I was only three minutes late for the train when I discovered my fiancé had given my reserved window seat to his new intern, covered her with his blazer, and told me to sit farther back. I stepped off before the train departed and immediately called off our wedding.
I dragged my suitcase onto the crowded train, exhausted and looking forward to finally sinking into the window seat I had reserved.
But the moment I reached my row, I stopped cold.
Camellia, the intern our company had hired only recently, was sitting in my seat.
That alone would have irritated me.
But it wasn’t what made my stomach twist.
My fiancé of five years, Luke, was standing beside her.
His charcoal wool blazer was draped across Camellia’s lap, and one of his hands rested against the seat while the other gently stroked her hair.
“It’s going to be okay,” Luke murmured to her, barely noticing the chaos of passengers boarding around them. “Clover isn’t petty. Looking after you is part of my job.”
Camellia glanced up at him with watery eyes.
“But Luke, this is Clover’s seat. What if she gets upset?”
“She’ll understand.”
That was when Luke finally noticed me standing in the aisle.
Instead of looking embarrassed, he looked annoyed.
“What took you so long?” he asked. “Camellia isn’t feeling well. Just take her seat farther back.”
I followed his gesture.
Her assigned seat was a cramped aisle seat beside a crying toddler.
I looked back at him.
“This is my reserved seat, isn’t it?”
Luke stiffened.
“Clover, don’t turn this into a scene. You’re a Senior Director. You’re also my fiancée. Can’t you show a little generosity?”
I stared at the man I had planned to marry in eight weeks.
For five years, I had supported him financially, professionally, and emotionally.
I had helped build his career almost as carefully as I had built my own.
And apparently my reward was being pushed into the worst seat on the train so he could comfort his intern.
I didn’t argue.
I didn’t shout.
I simply looked at my watch.
One minute until departure.
Then I turned my suitcase around and walked toward the exit.
“Clover, where the hell are you going?” Luke shouted behind me.
For the first time, panic entered his voice.
I stepped onto the platform seconds before the doors closed.
Luke and Camellia disappeared behind the glass as the train began pulling away.
My phone buzzed almost immediately.
Luke.
**What is this supposed to mean?**
I laughed once, although there was nothing funny about it.
Then I typed:
**It means we’re done.**
After sending it, I contacted our wedding coordinator.
“Freeze every vendor contract,” I said. “The wedding is canceled.”
Then I slipped off my engagement ring.
The diamond had looked impressive when Luke proposed.
What no one knew was that I had quietly covered the difference when his budget came up short.
I dropped it into my bag.
Then I walked toward the ticket counter.
Luke probably thought I had just abandoned the trip.
He was wrong.
We were traveling to Boston for one of the biggest corporate negotiations our firm had handled all year.
A fourteen-million-dollar acquisition.
And Luke seemed to have forgotten one important detail.
It wasn’t his project.
It was mine.
By the time the next business-class train delivered me to Boston, the evening sky had turned dark.
At the hotel, the receptionist smiled as she handed me my key.
“Mr. Scott’s team checked in about three hours ago, Miss Clover.”
“Thank you.”
I went upstairs.
I had barely put down my suitcase when my phone rang.
Luke’s mother.
Daniel.
I answered.
“Clover!” she barked. “Camellia called me hysterical. She says the wedding is canceled. You were supposed to be on a romantic work trip with my son. What did Luke do?”
Five years earlier, Daniel had treated me like the daughter she never had.
Eventually, I realized her affection depended heavily on how useful I was to her family.
“The wedding is canceled,” I said. “That part is correct.”
Silence.
Then she raised her voice.
