My Fiancé Woke Up Obsessed With My Best Friend

Chapter 2

Lorenzo looked me up and down with thinly veiled contempt.

"You should be grateful Vanessa even lets you lay eyes on me," he sneered. "Go on—get on your knees and thank her for her generosity."

The small-time businessmen standing nearby burst into sycophantic laughter.

"Oh, Mr. Nichols and his wife are being so kind, letting you stay by their side," one of them said mockingly.

"Better to serve Mr. Nichols as a personal assistant than end up selling yourself to some old man."

"Mr. Nichols, maybe get her checked first. Who knows what kind of diseases she's carrying?"

I met Lorenzo's smug gaze with a cold, steady stare.

We were once engaged—an alliance between two powerful families. We may not have been head-over-heels, but we were childhood sweethearts. We knew each other like the backs of our hands.

At eighteen, he got down on one knee with a bouquet of white roses and promised to grow old with me.

I had believed in him. I had dreamed of walking down the aisle, wearing his ring.

Then, he fell for Vanessa—the scholarship student I had sponsored.

"She's been through so much," he once told me. "She has no one. She needs someone to take care of her."

He even threw himself off a three-meter wedding stage, faking amnesia just to get out of marrying me.

And like a fool, I believed him. From overseas, I sent letters every day, hired world-renowned doctors, begged them to help him.

Then one day, I received a voice memo from Vanessa.

"Loren, you really hit your head just to trick Danna? If I'd known, I'd have told you to just go ahead and marry her."

"Babe, I'd do more than that for you. I'd die under you if that's what you wanted. You're sweet, you're soft... Danna's like a dead fish. She's not even good enough to make your bed."

"You should see the pathetic letters she sends me. Groveling. Begging. Once we get married, I'll pretend my memory's back and convince her to be our surrogate. That way, you don't have to carry the baby."

"Loren, you're so bad!"

"What can I say? If you're pregnant, I can't touch you for ten months. That'd kill me. Might as well use her. She's obsessed with me anyway."

Then came the sound of moaning.

Utterly shameless.

My heart cracked in half. So this was the truth behind our twenty years of friendship? Years of growing up together, wiped out by a few nights of lust.

Now, surrounded by flattery and ridicule, Lorenzo's eyes sparkled with satisfaction.

I lifted my chin, my voice ice-cold. "Find yourself another assistant, Lorenzo. I'm already married—and I have twin sons."

The crowd went still. All eyes shifted to the two chubby little boys standing nearby, their matching green eyes wide with curiosity.

Lorenzo's brow furrowed, his voice sharp with disbelief. "You actually had kids? With who? Some street rat?"

"Let me guess—you dragged out someone else's children just to make yourself look important? I still have those forty-eight love letters you sent me while you were abroad. You expect me to believe you had the heart to marry someone else and have his kids?"

He scoffed. "You think I'd actually be jealous?"

I held his gaze for a beat, then calmly reached into my purse and pulled out a ring—an heirloom from the royal Charles family. A thick gold band with an emerald centerpiece, flanked by a delicately engraved iris and royal crest.

"My husband is Prince Charles of France. Not a thug. Not a rich playboy. The younger brother of King Charles VIII himself," I said evenly.

Everyone froze.

Even those with a shred of international awareness knew: Prince Charles was the king's most trusted brother, holding vast power over foreign commerce and trade.

We had been married for four years. Charles adored me—but for my safety, my identity had never been made public.

Vanessa snatched the ring from my hand, inspecting it with a sneer.

"There is an iris and a crest," she muttered. Then she laughed. "So what? You think this proves you're some kind of princess?"

She held the ring up mockingly. "I could get ten of these made tomorrow and call myself Queen of France."