DEAR CHEATED GIRLFRIEND, I AM TRILLIONAIRE HEIR

CHAPTER 2 THIEF

The elevator doors slid shut with a quiet hum. Karvel leaned against the cool metal wall, exhaling slowly as the tension from the confrontation began to settle.

He opened his palm, revealing the small velvet box—the only heirloom left to him by his unknown family. The ring inside was his sole connection to a past he barely remembered, a fragment of something bigger, something once noble. His fingers trembled slightly as he flicked the box open.

The diamond gleamed under the harsh elevator lights, its brilliance untainted despite the ridicule it had just endured. A ring from the former royal family—something Mariya and her mother had deemed worthless.

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. They thought they were tossing away a stray dog, but they never stopped to consider—what if that dog was actually a wolf?

The elevator dinged, snapping Karvel out of his thoughts. As he stepped out, a familiar voice rang through the air.

“Well, well, look who it is—the discarded mutt finally crawling out of his master’s house.”

Karvel’s eyes flickered toward the source of the voice. A tall man in a tailored navy suit leaned lazily against a marble column, smirking as he twirled a glass of expensive whiskey.

Vincent Langford.

The arrogant son of a hedge fund mogul. One of Mariya’s relentless suitors.

Karvel sighed, already regretting stepping into this mess. He had no patience for clowns tonight.

“Not in the mood, Vincent,” Karvel muttered, tucking the ring box back into his pocket.

Vincent pushed himself off the column and sauntered forward, a sneer plastered across his face. “Not in the mood? You should be grateful I’m even talking to you. After all, a kept man like you doesn’t usually get the luxury of an audience with the elite.”

Karvel ignored him and walked past, but Vincent’s arm shot out, blocking his path.

“Leaving so soon? You’ve got nowhere to be, right? No fiancée, no home—hell, you don’t even have your dignity anymore.”

Karvel clenched his jaw but refused to take the bait.

Vincent, amused by the lack of response, glanced down at Karvel’s hand. His gaze landed on the velvet box peeking out of his pocket.

“Oh? What’s this?” Vincent reached out and, before Karvel could react, knocked the box from his grasp.

The small box tumbled to the floor, popping open upon impact. The diamond ring rolled across the marble surface, catching the light in a way that made it impossible to ignore.

The chatter in the lobby quieted as curious onlookers turned to see the source of the commotion.

Vincent let out a short laugh, stepping forward to pick up the ring. “Really, Karvel? You were going to propose to Mariya with this cheap trinket?” He held it up between his fingers, eyes filled with mockery. “No wonder she threw you away. You were trying to impress her with scraps.”

A few of the employees standing nearby chuckled, whispering amongst themselves.

Karvel crossed his arms, his expression impassive.

“Give it back.” His voice was cold, dangerously calm.

Vincent smirked but took another look at the ring, and something in his face shifted. The way the diamond reflected the light, the cut, the craftsmanship—it was… impeccable.

No, beyond that. It was exquisite.

His expression faltered, confusion flickering across his face.

“Where the hell did you get this?” His voice lost its earlier amusement, replaced by something sharper.

Karvel remained silent.

Vincent’s grip on the ring tightened. “You couldn’t have bought this. A stray dog like you doesn’t have the means. So tell me—did you steal it?”

A hushed murmur rippled through the bystanders.

Karvel exhaled slowly. Here we go.

He took a step forward, his gaze steady. “And what if I did?” he said, voice laced with amusement. “What are you going to do about it?”

Vincent’s lips curled in disgust. “I should have known. First, you mooch off Mariya, now you’re resorting to theft? No wonder she got rid of you. A useless mongrel like you doesn’t belong in our world.”

Karvel chuckled, his sharp gaze dropping to Vincent’s wrist. A shiny Rolex sat snugly around it.

“Huh,” Karvel mused, tilting his head. “Speaking of fakes…”

Vincent’s smirk faltered.

“That Rolex you’re so proud of?” Karvel continued, gesturing lazily. “It’s made of counterfeit steel. A cheap knockoff. You probably bought it at a flea market, thinking no one would notice.”

The employees stifled their laughter, eyes darting to Vincent’s wrist.

Vincent’s face twisted in rage. “You—”

“Funny, isn’t it?” Karvel cut him off, voice dripping with mockery. “You strut around pretending to be a wolf, when in reality, you’re just a house cat wearing fake gold.”

Laughter broke out around them.

Vincent’s face turned a furious shade of red.

“You bastard,” he seethed. “You think you can humiliate me and just walk away?” He snapped his fingers, and two burly bodyguards stepped forward. “Teach this stray his place.”

Karvel sighed.

When will these rich boys learn?

The first bodyguard lunged, but Karvel sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it with brutal efficiency. A sickening crack echoed through the lobby, followed by a pained grunt as the guard crumpled to his knees.

The second guard hesitated, then swung, but Karvel ducked, driving his elbow into the man’s gut before kicking his legs out from under him.

Both guards were down in seconds.

The onlookers stood frozen, staring in shock.

Vincent took a stumbling step back, his earlier arrogance replaced with visible fear.

Karvel dusted off his sleeves and shot him a cold smile. “Here’s a lesson for you, Vincent.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. “When a wolf is cornered, it doesn’t whimper—it bites.”

Vincent swallowed hard, fists clenched, but he didn’t dare move.

Karvel turned, scooping up his ring from the floor, and pocketed it. Without another word, he strode out of the building, leaving silence in his wake.

 Employees exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of what had just happened. The scent of tension still lingered as whispers filled the space.

Then, the sharp click of high heels against marble announced the arrival of two figures—Mariya Carter and her mother, Isabelle.

“Where is he?” Isabelle demanded, her voice laced with urgency as she scanned the room, searching for any sign of Karvel.

Vincent Langford, still adjusting his ruffled suit, turned with a smirk. His face bore the faintest trace of humiliation, but he masked it well under a layer of condescension.

“That stray finally ran off with his tail between his legs,” he sneered.

Mariya's brows furrowed. “What happened?”

Before Vincent could answer, Isabelle stepped forward, her demeanor shifting instantly. She no longer carried the arrogance from earlier but instead exuded faux concern, her voice syrupy sweet.

“Oh, Vincent dear, you must have been so frightened,” she cooed. “Did that dog try to attack you? I can’t imagine the audacity after Mariya so graciously let him go.”

Vincent exhaled dramatically, clutching his wrist as if it had been broken. “He didn’t just attack me—he stole from me!”

Mariya’s eyes widened slightly, though her face remained unreadable. “Karvel… stole from you?”

Vincent nodded with exaggerated concern. “That expensive diamond ring in his possession? No way in hell could someone like him afford something like that. It’s obvious he stole it. I tried to confront him about it, and in response, he assaulted me.”

A gasp rippled through the employees. Isabelle’s lips curled in satisfaction before turning to Mariya, feigning sorrow.

“Oh, Mariya,” she sighed, “I told you keeping that stray around was a mistake. A mongrel with no pedigree can never truly be trusted.”

Mariya, however, remained still, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Did anyone here see him steal from Vincent?”

The employees hesitated. Then, as if on cue, one of them stepped forward. “Yes, Miss Carter. He definitely took the ring. We all saw it.”

Mariya’s jaw tightened. “All of you?”

A chorus of murmured confirmations followed.

Her fingers clenched at her sides. She knew Karvel—he wasn’t a thief. But standing here, facing the supposed testimony of multiple people, doubt began to claw at her rationality.

Isabelle placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “See? He was nothing but a filthy street rat pretending to be worthy of you.”

Vincent, emboldened by the moment, chuckled. “It’s pathetic, really. A mutt pretending to be a wolf, thinking he could blend in with the elite. But the moment the leash was off, he showed his true colors—nothing more than a desperate thief.”

Mariya felt something tighten in her chest. An inexplicable irritation burned at her temples.

Reaching into her bag, she swiftly pulled out her phone and dialed Karvel’s number. The line rang for a few moments before clicking.

“Karvel,” she said, her voice eerily calm. “Where are you?”