Chapter 1The Ultimate Checkmate: Marrying My Ex's Billionaire Rival

Three years ago, he mocked me right in front of his friends: "She's too obsessed with love. I'm just playing around with her."

I was devastated. Walking home in a daze, I missed a step, tumbled down a flight of concrete stairs, and shattered my leg.

Years later, I handed out my wedding invitations at a college alumni dinner.

"I'm getting married," I said with a smile. "I'd love for you all to come."

When the invitation reached him, he casually brushed it aside with a cold sneer. "Who gave you the nerve to marry someone else?"

What he didn't know was that the groom on that invitation was sitting directly across from him.

Watching the entire scene with absolute, unnerving calm.

* * *

"I never expected Clara Hayes to be the first one of us to tie the knot."

"She was always so quiet and obedient. She got dumped pretty hard, so finding someone willing to marry her is good enough."

I clutched the gold-embossed invitations in my hands, completely ignoring the toxic whispers around the table.

"I'm getting married next month. You're all welcome to celebrate with us."

From start to finish, a dark, freezing gaze locked onto my face.

He didn't move an inch.

I knew he would be here.

Tristan Vance.

My first love.

And now, the ruthless rising star of the Manhattan elite.

I slid the heavy ivory envelope across the table toward him, summoning every ounce of courage to meet his eyes.

"Tristan, I hope you can make it."

Tristan sat in silence. He didn't utter a single word.

The entire table held their breath, their eyes darting silently between the two of us.

After all, our breakup three years ago was a legendary disaster.

He had publicly mocked me for being a pathetic, desperate puppy dog. The humiliation left me in such a daze that I tripped down a flight of stairs on my way home, shattering my knee.

I had to leave the state just to get multiple surgeries and intensive physical therapy.

Sitting next to him, Lindsey Cole broke the silence with a sweet, piercing smile:

"Chloe, is your leg all better now?"

I hesitated for a second, downplaying the trauma: "It still aches when it rains..."

In reality, it was much worse.

The joint damage was permanent.

Lindsey possessively hooked her arm through Tristan's, smiling apologetically.

"I'm so sorry. I want to apologize on Tristan's behalf."

"On... his behalf?"

My grip on the stack of invitations tightened.

"Did no one tell you? Tristan and I are getting married," Lindsey said, covering her mouth with a delicate giggle. "I guess I'm just lucky."

I stood there holding my invitations, completely stunned.

Lindsey. She was my best friend.

Back in college, no one was closer to me than her.

How could she...

"Alright, alright... that's all in the past! Come on Clara, hand out the rest of the invites!"

Someone desperately tried to smooth things over.

Suddenly, Tristan raised his hand, slapped the invitation away, and let out a harsh, mocking laugh.

"Who gave you the nerve to marry someone else?"

The moment those words left his mouth, the room fell dead silent.

Even Lindsey's smug smile vanished.

My mind went completely blank. "Why shouldn't I get married?"

For three years, I had carried the weight of his humiliation and the mockery of our peers.

Wasn't that enough?

Tristan offered a dark, twisted smile. "Even a dog I throw away isn't allowed to find a new master. You think you can?"

"Tristan."

A faint, chilling voice echoed from the head of the table.

In the dead silence of the room, it was exceptionally clear.

Sebastian Sterling slowly lifted his gaze, his tone as light as a passing breeze. "That's enough."

Two words.

Absolute finality.

No one dared to breathe, let alone contradict him.

After all, this man was in a league far beyond Tristan Vance.

Back in university, he was the untouchable, ice-cold god of the campus.

In the years since graduation, he had become a phantom billionaire, only seen on the covers of Forbes and Wall Street Journal.

Tristan, who had a decent business relationship with Sebastian, didn't push it.

Instead, he snatched my invitation off the table and ripped it open. He glanced at the elegant cursive inside and let out a highly amused laugh.

"Sebastian, what a coincidence. Her fiancé's last name is Sterling, too. I'd love to meet this guy. What kind of saint is he?"

The groom's name on the invitation read: Bastian Sterling.

"Is that so?"

Sebastian took a slow sip of his red wine, a faint, unreadable smile playing on his lips. "That is, indeed, quite a coincidence."