Chapter 3Last Place in My Own Love Story

Shannon's POV

When I arrived at Ian's and my new home, I couldn't unlock the door with my fingerprints no matter what I tried.

After knocking on the door for a while, it was Rebecca who finally answered the door.

She held my hands with concern written all over her face. "Shannon, why did you run off without a word? Do you know how worried I was?"

I retorted, "Were you? It clearly wasn't enough to keep you from redoing your makeup and getting your hair curled, though."

She didn't expect me to expose her lie so directly and turned pale.

I pushed past her and walked inside, only to discover that the house I'd only moved into the day before my wedding was already filled with traces of a third person.

The bedsheets were all in Rebecca's favorite pink shades, and her mini hair ties filled the nightstand drawer. Besides, a couple's set of mouthwash cups was arranged neatly on the bathroom sink.

Ian had stuck a sticky note for Rebecca on the refrigerator that read, "Your period's due in three days. No cold treats allowed."

I suddenly found the situation ridiculous.

Shannon Langley, you really were a dim-witted fool.

Just then, Ian walked out carrying my favorite pastries.

"Shannon, you're back. Guess what I bought? It was my fault for neglecting you today, but everyone was doing it for your own good and didn't have ill intentions. If they said anything to upset you, I apologize on their behalf."

Instead of replying, I asked, "Why can't I unlock the door with my fingerprints anymore?"

He looked away guiltily. "I lost a bet with Rebecca, and my punishment was to delete your fingerprints from the system."

Afraid that I would get angry, Rebecca put on an aggrieved expression and grabbed my hand.

"Shannon, you're not angry, are you? It's my fault. Please don't get into a fight because of me," she said pitifully.

I irritably shook her off, feeling utterly disgusted.

I barely used any strength, but Rebecca fell backward with an exclamation.

Ian quickly steadied her before glaring furiously at me.

He yelled, "Shannon, don't go overboard! What did Rebecca ever do to be on the receiving end of your tantrums every time? She's your best friend, not your punching bag!"

Seeing how single-mindedly he was defending Rebecca, I no longer wanted to be involved with them.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked out. Neither of them chased after me.

It was raining cats and dogs outside, and I was soaked to the bone.

When I finally managed to hail a taxi, my debit card was rejected due to insufficient funds.

The card was linked to a joint account Ian and I had opened together.

Back then, Ian promised me that he would marry me once we saved up a million dollars, because he didn't want me to settle for any less than I deserved.

I scrimped and saved for three years, to the point that I even limited the amount of toilet paper I used.

But now, there were only 23.80 dollars remaining in the account.

The final transaction was listed clearly in the records.

The money hadn't been spent on our wedding or marital home but on a custom-made Yiggarian piano worth 900,000 dollars.

Feeling dazed, I called Ian to question him about the transaction.

"You bought the piano for Rebecca, didn't you?"

Ian admitted openly, "Yes, but I'm only lending it to her. 900,000 dollars out of that one million belongs to me. We aren't legally married yet, so don't be so possessive over my money."

I felt chilled from head to toe.

Ian and Rebecca were music majors, while I was tone-deaf.

I suggested that Ian and I sign up for an adult hobby class so that we could share some common ground, but he chided me for wasting money.

"Music requires talent. It can't simply be learned."

According to him, it was a waste of money to try following in his footsteps.

He was willing to spend on Rebecca, but I wasn't allowed to be too possessive over his money.