After I Stopped Being His Perfect Wife, My Ex-Fiancé Lost His Mind

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To marry Vincent Vance, I volunteered for the Vance family's 'Perfect Wife' selection.

Round after round I survived, until I was the last one standing.

Just when I thought the dust had settled, a servant led me into a pitch-black room.

The lights snapped on. Two bodies tangled together filled my vision.

The man's voice was familiar, teasing

You made it. Care to join us?

Vincent's hands never stopped moving over her, but his eyes were locked on me.

I stood frozen, every drop of color draining from my face.

Whatis this?

My helplessness clearly pleased him. He rose, crossed the room, and patted my cheek.

Oh, I forgot to mention. This is the real final test.

Every man in our circle keeps mistresses. If you want to be Mrs. Vance, the most important thing is learning to live with that.

You didn't throw a fit. Not bad.

He pulled open the nightstand drawer, rummaged past a stack of condom boxes, and fished out a ring. He slid it onto my finger like an afterthought.

The wedding's still next week, right on schedule. I'll make you the most beautiful bride this city has ever seen.

I forced the corners of my mouth upward. My other hand tightened around the check in my pocket.

Vincent Vance, I don't think there's a future for us anymore.

The woman on the bed couldn't wait. She sat up, clutching the sheets around her, and a familiar face emerged.

Bonnie Fox. The daughter of the Fox family, eliminated in the very first round.

The first time we met during the selection, she'd held her hand under her nose and fanned the air right in front of me.

You think Mrs. Vance is some bargain-bin clearance item? That just anyone can have it?

I'd gripped my faded jeans until my knuckles ached, my face burning red.

When she was eliminated, her composure shattered. She lunged at me.

How can I be the one leaving? That broke nobody should've been thrown out of the Vance house first!

I thought that was the last I'd ever see of her.

Yet here she was, half-dressed, draped over Vincent right in front of me, her gaze brimming with triumph and pity.

The ring hung loose on my finger, sliding toward the knuckle. I curled my hand just enough to keep it from falling off.

Last night before bed, I'd still been daydreaming.

Knowing Vincent's romantic streak, I'd imagined a flower-covered lawn, surrounded by friends and family, a perfect proposal.

Reality hit me like a fist this morning.

My eyes stung. I blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall.

Rule number one in the 'Perfect Wife' handbook: never lose composure in front of others.

Days of drilling had turned that rule into reflex.

Vincent released my hand, turned back to the warmth waiting behind him, and waved at the servants without looking at me.

Take Miss Simmons back to her room.

I stayed where I was, feet rooted to the floor. For the first time, I didn't obey.

I stared into his eyes, trying to understand how someone could become a stranger overnight.

Vincent pulled away from the bed long enough to light a cigarette, flicking ash carelessly to one side, amusement carved across his face.

Staying for the show?

Might as well. You'll be seeing a lot of this from now on.

He tilted Bonnie's chin up and kissed her, slow and deep, making sure every wet sound carried across the room.

My legs buckled. I stumbled backward, shoved through the door, and ran.

My back hit the hallway wall and I slid to the floor as my phone buzzed and buzzed in my pocket.

I wiped away the tears I hadn't realized were covering my face and pressed answer.

Dad was propped against the hospital bed, an oxygen mask still strapped over his face.

Laura, is everything going well at the Vance house?

I couldn't speak. I just nodded, hard.

That's good

On the other end of the line, he drew several labored breaths.

That boy Vincent has done so much for our family, and he's clearly crazy about you. You have to be good to him, do what he says.

The Vances are old money. They'll have plenty of rules. Keep them in mind and don't offend anyone.

The evening breeze swept over me, raising a sharp chill across my skin.

I fought to keep the tremor out of my voice.

I know, Dad.

The call ended. I shoved my phone back into my pocket.

As I did, the check I'd been clutching slipped out, crumpled beyond recognition.

I bent down to pick it up, and my mind drifted back to the conversation that morning.

Marlene Vance sat in the living room, adjusting the shawl draped over her shoulders. When she noticed me, a flicker of mockery passed through her eyes.

She lifted her chin toward the seat across from her.

I pressed my lips together and walked over, stiff and cautious, before sitting down.

There was no small talk. She cut straight to the point.

I hear Vincent put together some sort of 'Perfect Wife' selection?

She didn't wait for my answer before continuing.

That little stunt holds no weight with this family.

My half-formed nod froze in place.

That wasn't what Vincent had told me. He said the selection was a tradition passed down through generations of Vances, that it was my only chance to marry him.

He had taken both my hands and pressed them against his chest, his eyes brimming with light.

Laura, trust me. I'll make sure you win. You're the only woman I'll ever marry.

Marlene took a measured sip of her tea, her elegant brows drawn tight.

He wasn't happy with the match the family arranged, so he cooked up this little scheme as a form of protest.

But a game that tacky doesn't belong in public. It's the kind of thing you play behind closed doors.

Her gaze settled on me, heavy with authority, as she slid a blank check across the table.

Write whatever number you want. As long as you walk away from Vincent.

My hands tightened on my knees, then loosened, then tightened again. I shook my head, over and over.

Marlene watched me and let out a quiet laugh, its meaning impossible to read.

I looked up at her, lost.

Do you know what the consolation prize was for the girls who got eliminated?

She held my gaze, and the smile on her face turned cruel.

A night in bed with Vincent.

The words fell from her lips so casually, but they hit me like a sledgehammer to the skull.

I shot to my feet, convinced this was just another tactic the Vances were using to force me out.

That's impossible! I don't believe you!

Then tell me, how well do you really know Vincent Vance?

My mouth opened, but no rebuttal came out.

I had known Vincent for a year.

The day we first met, the rain was coming down hard.

He ducked into the convenience store where I worked part-time to get out of the downpour. When his eyes met mine, something in them lit up.

After that, Vincent became a regular.

He asked for my number, memorized my shift schedule, showed up just to help me haul boxes of inventory.

He planned surprises for my birthday and walked me home every time it rained.

Somewhere along the way, without either of us noticing, feelings took root.

Just when I thought everything was slowly falling into place, the hospital called.

My father had collapsed. He was in the operating room.

I rushed to the hospital in a daze. The doctor only shook his head.

The patient's heart is in critical condition. You need to prepare yourself.

Recovery meant finding a matching donor heart, and the cost of the treatment that would follow was an astronomical sum, more than enough to crush me.

Just as I was on the verge of breaking down, Vincent wrapped a steady arm around my shoulders.

Don't worry. I've got you.

He took care of everything. The surgery was a complete success.

But outside the operating room, I stepped back, pulling away from the hand he reached toward me.

That was when I learned the truth. He was the eldest son of the Vance family in Kingsport. Heir to one of the most powerful families in the country.

The kind of person someone like me could only admire from a distance, never touch.

Between us lay a chasm nothing could bridge.

I kept my head down, unable to meet his eyes.

I'll pay back the surgery costs in installments.

That single sentence turned Vincent's eyes red. He pulled me into his arms, pressing me against his chest, his warm breath grazing the side of my neck.

I don't want your money. I want you.

Laura, I want you to repay this debt with a lifetime of happiness.

The tenderness in his eyes nearly drowned me. I believed every word and nodded, convinced that the girl from nowhere had finally found her prince.

But aside from the identity he'd volunteered, I had no idea what else he might have kept hidden.

The air in the living room grew more suffocating by the second.

I couldn't stay a moment longer. Without so much as a goodbye, I turned and fled.

A servant caught up to me and pressed the check into my hand.

Mrs. Vance wants you to keep it. When you've come to your senses, you'll find a use for it.

My thoughts snapped back to the present. I closed my eyes.

Slowly, carefully, I smoothed out every crease on the surface of the check.

When I returned to my room, the wedding gown had already been delivered on Vincent's orders.

It hung in the center of the room, the overhead light catching every bead and thread until it glowed like something out of a fairy tale.

I reached out and touched it. The fabric was as soft as I'd imagined.

Why not try it on?

Vincent stood behind me. I didn't know when he'd come in. Fresh scratch marks trailed down his neck in ragged lines.

I lowered my gaze, avoiding his.

I'm a little tired. Can we talk about it tomorrow?

He leaned in and wrapped his arms around me. That familiar, cloying perfume clung to his clothes.

Come with me to a banquet tomorrow evening. I'll have the driver pick you up in the afternoon.

I had no reason to refuse.

The next day, we arrived.

The moment I stepped out of the car, countless eyes settled on me.

Provocative. Amused. Jealous.

A man looking for trouble sauntered up to me with a champagne flute in hand.

Well, well. If it isn't the star graduate of the Vance family's little wife program.

His gaze slid over me, slow and sticky, and every word out of his mouth carried a barb.

Must've been your talents in the bedroom that won young Mr. Vance's heart!

He reached for me, but the instant he spotted Vincent in the doorway, his hand jerked back as though he'd touched a live wire.

He stretched his lips into a grin and hurried over, all flattery.

Mr. Vance, I didn't mean anything by it

Vincent didn't spare him a glance. He walked right past the man as if he didn't exist.

Then, in full view of every guest in the room, he stopped in front of me and held out a sheet of paper.

I took it and unfolded it. A prenatal exam report.

His tone was even, calm, as though he were commenting on the weather.

I was too rough with her yesterday. She went to the hospital, and that's when they found out Bonnie's pregnant.

My fault, really.

My chest tightened. For a split second I thought he was blaming himself, but then his voice shifted.

I never planned on having a child before the wedding. The Vance family's firstborn was always supposed to come from you.

But now

Vincent reached up and traced his fingers along my cheek. The touch was gentle. The threat underneath it was not.

It's still a Vance. So I'll let you decide what to do with it.

My stomach lurched. My nails dug into my palms hard enough to draw blood.

I sucked in a sharp breath and forced a proper smile onto my face.

Fine. I'll handle it.

Only then did Vincent reach over and pat my head, satisfied.

The other guests at the gala gave me a wide berth, as if by silent agreement. When no one was watching, I slipped out to the balcony to breathe.

Vince, you're really gonna marry that hick?

I recognized the voice. One of Vincent's closest friends.

I turned my head and saw them clustered together around Vincent, deep in conversation.

Gotta hand it to you though, you've got her trained. She jumps when you say jump, like a damn dog!

Living up to the legend, man. Any tips for the rest of us?

Vincent swirled the liquor in his glass, his expression unreadable.

He let the anticipation build to its peak before he finally spoke.

Someone like Laura who's been scraping the bottom her whole life? Throw her a few crumbs and she'll worship the ground you walk on.

But if you want total control, you need leverage. Something to hold over her.

The donor heart I got for her father wasn't exactly healthy. Every time the old man has an episode and needs treatment, that's another chain tying Laura to her place.

Being Mrs. Vance comes with too much baggage. I didn't want Bonnie to go through all that.

Whatever they said after that, I couldn't hear anymore.

A high-pitched ringing flooded my ears. The glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the ground.

I bit down on my lip until it bled, pressed both hands over my face, and crouched down. Tears streamed through the gaps between my fingers without stopping.

The phone in my pocket buzzed again and again.

I answered it numbly.

Is this Ms. Simmons? Your father has gone into sudden shock. We suspect cardiac rejection. He's in the operating room now

At some point it had started pouring outside. I grabbed fistfuls of my skirt and ran straight into the rain.

By the time I reached the hospital, the light above the operating room had just gone dark.

The surgeon's face told me everything. My lips trembled, and my heart dropped like a stone.

Ms. Simmons, I'm sorry for your loss.

I stood frozen. Every sound in the world cut out at once.

They wheeled Dad out under a white sheet, the ruined heart still inside his chest. A heart that had never been his.

Even in death, he hadn't been left whole.

I collapsed over his body and wailed, my chest so full of hatred for Vincent Vance there was no room left for anything else.

I knelt there until my knees went numb. Then I took care of everything, and walked back to the Vance residence like a corpse that hadn't learned to stop moving.

The bedroom door was ajar. The wedding gown that had hung neatly on its rack was now on Bonnie Fox's body.

It looked like it had been through a war, crumpled into a rag.

Vincent's brow twisted the moment he saw the state of me.

Where the hell have you been? Why do you look like that?

I didn't answer his question. I turned to Bonnie and smiled.

Vincent said the baby in your belly is mine to deal with.

I've already booked you an abortion appointment for tomorrow. You're welcome.

Bonnie shrieked, clutching her stomach, and slapped me across the face.

Vincent's expression went black. His hand closed around my throat and he slammed me against the wall, pinning me there.

Laura Simmons, look at yourself. Is this how a Vance wife behaves?

Vicious and jealous. Everything in that 'Perfect Wife' handbook went in one ear and out the other, didn't it?

He flung me aside, turned, and bent down to gently console the sobbing Bonnie.

I lay on the floor coughing so hard I thought my lungs would come up. My face burned red from the thin trickle of air I could drag in, and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

The 'Perfect Wife' handbook on the nightstand had been knocked to the floor when I fell. Every single page was dog-eared from how many times I'd studied it.

I laughed bitterly, picked up the handbook, and hurled it out the window.

Vincent, I don't want to be your perfect wife anymore.

His hand stilled on Bonnie's back. The look he gave me was pure disgust.

What are you throwing a fit about now?

Without me, who's going to cover your father's follow-up treatments?

He was coaxing me. The way you'd coax a dog.

Be good. Stop making a scene. I need to see a graceful, well-mannered bride at the wedding.

I wiped the tears that had come from laughing, and said nothing more.

Three days later, the wedding went ahead as planned.

The Vance family had booked the largest hotel in the city. Every guest who walked through the doors was either rich or powerful.

Vincent straightened his bow tie in the mirror and felt, to his own surprise, a flicker of anticipation for the ceremony.

He thought of the girl whose whole world revolved around him, and in a moment of softness, decided that next time he'd arrange a better heart for her father.

The guests took their seats. Marlene smiled toward the grand doors where the bride would enter, her expression unreadable.

The doors swung open. The bride stepped into the room under every watching eye.

Vincent's smile froze on his face.