Chapter 1The Mind Reader's Choice

Everyone knows I am Weston Montgomery's exclusively devoted, pathetic doormat of a girlfriend.

If he told me to jump into a river, I jumped. If he told me to kneel in the rain all night, I knelt.

I was so obedient that even when he kept a mistress on the side, I voluntarily delivered condoms to their hotel room.

People in our circle praised him for raising such a good "dog," and mocked me for doing whatever it took to marry into wealth.

But when he took the initiative to propose to me at a family dinner, I shook my head and refused:

"I've done everything I could."

"But there is no need for a wedding."

* * *

The atmosphere instantly became incredibly awkward. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery exchanged nervous glances, tactfully keeping their mouths shut.

Weston, who had been half-drunk and smiling, stiffened. He suddenly stood up, knocking over the dining table, and glared at me in disbelief:

"You're refusing to marry me? Harper, what kind of high-and-mighty act are you putting on now?"

"Haven't you been chasing after me all these years just to marry into my family? Now you're playing hard to get?"

I lazily lifted my eyelids to look at the furious Weston, then turned to his parents. I stood up, nodded at them, and said:

"I'm done eating. I'll be heading back now."

His parents quickly stood up, grabbing Weston by both arms to stop him from doing anything drastic. They offered me an apologetic smile.

"Thank you for everything, Harper. Weston must have forgotten to take his meds. Don't take it to heart."

"Of course, if you are willing to marry him, we would be more than happy to—"

"Mom! Dad! What are you talking about?! Harper is the one begging to marry me! Why are you walking on eggshells around her?"

"Let me tell you, Harper, if you don't want to marry me, there's a long line of women who do! If you weren't such a good little lapdog, do you think I would have ever given you a second look?"

His words were as piercing as ever, but over the past three years, I seemed to have gotten used to them.

From initial disbelief to calm acceptance, and now, to complete indifference.

It took me three years to accept the fact that Weston had completely forgotten me and that his personality had drastically changed.

Now, we had reached the end of the line.

I gave Weston one last, deep look, grabbed my coat, and walked out.

The sound of things crashing and shattering echoed behind me, but I didn't look back.

Walking up to the car, I tried the door handle a few times, but it wouldn't open.

The chauffeur walked up to me with a sour expression, shoved me hard, and sneered:

"This is Mr. Montgomery's car, and I am Mr. Montgomery's driver. Do you really think you're someone important? Mr. Montgomery isn't going out, so why do you think you can sit in his car?"

"Get lost. Don't be an eyesore."

The bodyguards standing nearby all looked at me with mocking eyes; a few even failed to hold back their laughter.

I stood quietly in place. Looking at these people—who had obeyed my every command back when Weston and I were doing well—I only felt a deep sense of irony.

When you lose your status, people show their true colors.

I didn't say another word, turned around, and walked out.