My Fiancé Dated His Secretary, I Found a New Groom

Prissie’s POV

Declan Mortimer came with me to choose a bridal gown, but really, he was dating his phone.

I asked, “How about this one?”

He answered lazily, “Looks nice.”

“And this?”

“It’s fine. It suits your skin tone.”

I set the gown down, my fingers brushing over its heavy folds. It looked more suited for a window than a wedding.

And so I didn’t ask again.

It wasn’t until a message popped up on his phone—an emoji of a tearful kitten sent by his secretary—that he suddenly stood up and briskly walked out without hesitation.

Only then did I open my lips to calmly remind him, “Come home early tonight. I have some really good news to tell you.”

——

It was four in the morning when Declan finally came home.

Stumbling and reeking of alcohol, he climbed on top of me, his hands burning hot, his voice dripping with false tenderness.

“Reigne…”

I switched on the bedside lamp.

And in a flash, the affection in his eyes vanished, replaced by a flicker of disgust.

After an awkward pause, he grabbed a pillow and pressed it over my face, seeming resigned as he prepared to kiss me.

But then I said, “I’m on my period.”

His shoulders instantly relaxed. With a sigh of relief, he got up and headed straight for the bathroom.

As soon as he left, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

It was a message from Reigne Kimberly.

[Dex, thanks for stepping in and shielding me from those awful guys and their drinks tonight. I promise, I won’t take side jobs at the bar anymore. From now on, I will be your one and only secretary forever!]

Ten years ago, when I confessed to him in front of everyone, Declan—fully aware of my alcohol allergy—pointed lazily to a full bottle of whiskey.

“If you can down that in one go,” he said nonchalantly, “I’ll consider accepting you.”

Now, as I gently touched the area where I’d lost half my stomach from that stunt, I reached behind the pillow and pulled out a wedding invitation I had prepared long ago.

I got up, sat on the couch, and waited quietly.

Less than ten minutes later, he stepped out of the shower.

The floral scent clinging to him was instantly familiar—it was the same one from the scented candle Reigne gave me last time.

Before I could even speak, he casually reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a gift box, and tossed it at me like he was throwing scraps to a homeless person.

Inside was a pair of dark, bloodred ruby earrings—clearly expensive.

But just one look and I could tell they were repurposed from the ruby necklace he had gifted Reigne last month.

Seeing me shut the box, Declan sneered and raised a brow.

“What? Not happy unless I put them on you myself?”

“Declan,” I said. “We’ve been childhood friends for fifteen years. You really don’t know I don’t have pierced ears?”

Maybe it was the softness of my tone that caught him off guard, because for once, instead of getting impatient, he tried to coax me while replying to Reigne on his phone.

He clicked his tongue. “What’s the big deal? I’ll take you to get them pierced tomorrow. Simple as that.”

There was a time when just hearing that would’ve made me leap into his arms without hesitation.

Even when he looked stonecold, even when his ears flushed red with embarrassment, I’d still smother him in kisses until I reached a hundred.

But now, I ignored the arms he instinctively opened and calmly handed him the invitation.

“Congratulations, Declan. The groom’s been changed. You don’t have to marry me anymore.”

“Huh? Congratulations for what?”

He was too busy flirting with Reigne to even register what I’d said.

It wasn’t until I told him to open the invitation and check the groom’s name that his phone rang again.

At this hour, there was no need to guess who it was.

Sure enough, it was Reigne. Her voice was soft and coy through the receiver.

“Dex… I just saw this super scary video… It really, really freaked me out…”

The second he heard her whimper, Declan tossed the invitation aside and rushed downstairs without another word.

Within seconds, I heard the roar of his sports car tearing out of the driveway.

Grabbing my phone, I thought for a second about calling him.

But all I got was a busy tone.

Right. I had almost forgotten.

On the day of our engagement, just so I wouldn’t interrupt him attending a class reunion with Reigne, he had already blocked me.

Prissie’s POV

Snapping out of my thoughts, I carried the trash bag into the study and began sorting through the things that no longer had a place in my life.

I tore up the hundreds of love letters I had written to Declan.

I smashed the starry sky telescope I gave him when we were kids.

And when I was about to throw away the childhood photo of us that had sat on display for the past ten years, my hand accidentally brushed against the mouse.

The computer screen lit up.

In the very next second, just as Reigne’s smiling face appeared, I was shoved hard.

My head slammed against the glass of the bookshelf behind me. The pain was instant, my face going pale.

Declan, having doubled back, didn’t even look at me. His eyes were on something else entirely. Once he confirmed that the ceramic pig Reigne gave him was completely intact, he shot me a sidelong glance.

“Prissie,” she said coldly, “from now on, you’re not allowed in the study.”

The pain in my skull left me speechless. I simply watched in silence as he opened the safe, took out the heirloom diamond ring, and left with excitement written all over his face.

Not long after, I received a video from one of Declan’s closest friends.

It was filmed at the top floor of Starlight Restaurant.

In front of a circle of close friends, Declan knelt on one knee, holding a bouquet and that diamond ring. He looked up at Reigne.

“Reigne, before I met you,” he said, “I never believed in true love. But from the moment you appeared, my world—dim and colorless for thirty years—was suddenly illuminated. Right here, right now, I humbly beg you… Please give me the chance to protect you for a lifetime.”

Beneath a sky bursting with dazzling fireworks, Reigne tearfully accepted the ring and threw herself into Declan’s arms, smiling through her tears.

I had barely finished watching the video when I received the location to a private club.

That was all I needed to know.

Declan and his socalled friends were at it again—placing bets, laughing at my expense.

They were gambling on how long it would take me to storm into the club and “catch them in the act.”

They were gambling on whether I’d lose it in public—cry, scream, or even threaten suicide.

Over the past ten years, every time Declan bet that I’d cry, he always won.

But this time, I sent back just one sentence.

[Tell Declan, congratulations on finally getting what he wants.]

Then, I put my phone on silent and went back to my room to sleep.

The next morning, when I woke up, I saw two missed calls.

Both were from Declan.

I didn’t call back; I had to rush to the bathroom to throw up.

The pain in the back of my head was getting worse. I had no choice but to drive myself to the hospital.

While waiting in the reception area for my name to be called, I saw Declan and Reigne.

They were standing on either side of a middleaged woman, supporting her like family—smiling, chatting, looking every bit the happy trio.

“Mom,” Reigne said sweetly, “see how caring President Mortimer is? Even with his busy schedule, he’s been coming with me every day to visit you.”

“Don’t say that, Reigne,” Declan replied with a gentle tone. “If it weren’t for you and Auntie Petula taking such good care of my mom back then, she wouldn’t have held on long enough for me to return to Connecticut. I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

Petula chuckled and was about to say something when her eyes met mine.

Instantly, her gaze dropped in guilt. She let out a fake cough and looked away.

Seeing Petula, the head nurse from back then, I finally understood why Declan fell in love with Reigne.

My throat itched, and I let out a soft, bitter laugh.

Declan, hearing it, turned at once. His brows furrowed as he walked over.

“Prissie,” he snapped, “where the hell were you fooling around last night?”

I pressed my lips into a thin line and replied calmly, “I was home the whole time.”

His expression twisted into something between a sneer and a scowl. “Home, and you still ignored my calls?”

Ever since we got together, I had never missed a single one of his calls.

Probably realizing that, he suddenly reached out and grabbed my jaw with one hand.

“You think I’m a threeyearold you can fool?”

His fingers paused. A strange look flickered in his eyes as he noticed the clammy sweat on my skin.

“Prissie… why are you sweating so much?”

Before I could answer, a soft, tearful voice cried out, “Dex!”

Reigne’s sobbing call immediately drew him back to her side.

At the same time, Petula clutched her chest and let out a pained groan. “Ah… It hurts!”

Prissie’s POV

Declan immediately accompanied Reigne and her mom back to the hospital room.

Not only that—he even called for a full hospitalwide consultation with all the doctors.

Two whole hours passed.

I had been waiting forever for a doctor to see me. Dizzy and vomiting, I eventually passed out and went into shock—only getting minimal treatment after a passing nurse happened to find me and rushed me to the emergency room.

When I dragged myself home in exhaustion, Declan was blowdrying Reigne’s hair.

They had just finished bathing. Both of them were dressed in the couple’s pajamas I had bought.

The neckline of the pajamas dipped low—too low to hide the trail of kiss marks scattered across Reigne’s skin.

“Prissie,” Reigne said in a syrupy voice, clutching her towel with a look of pretend innocence. “Please don’t misunderstand. Dex and I didn’t do anything shameful in the room…”

She trembled slightly, as if afraid of being misunderstood.

And Declan, catching that movement, shot me a look full of displeasure.

“Don’t you have any manners? Didn’t your parents teach you to knock before entering a room?” he snapped.

“Sorry,” I replied evenly. “They died young. Didn’t get the chance to teach me that.”

At my words, he actually went quiet for once.

I walked to the closet and pulled out a change of clothes. With a neutral tone, I offered, “I’ll stay in the guest room.”

He froze for a second, only to sneer with barely hidden disdain.

“Oh, come on, Prissie, stop pretending to be so high and mighty. Don’t make a scene. I just brought Reigne home for a meal. Nobody’s fighting you for that crappy bed of yours.”

Still running a low fever, I didn’t even bother to argue. I simply turned and went to the guest room, took my meds, and lay down to rest.

Reigne didn’t leave that night.

The next morning, the moment I stepped out of the room, I overheard the maids talking to each other in a hushed voice.

“I’ve worked in the Mortimers for years, but this is the first time I’ve seen Sir Declan treat a woman with this much care. Ma’am Reigne just casually mentioned she’d never been on a carousel, and he had the entire amusement park moved into the backyard. He actually had fun with her all night…”

“Right, and that’s not all. I just saw him in the kitchen making her breakfast himself, and he even tested the milk with his lips before he gave it to her!”

Through the floortoceiling window, I saw the flower garden I had spent years cultivating—my rarest, most beloved blooms—all completely destroyed.

Calmly, I picked up the phone and called finance.

“Sell the St. Mary’s Cathedral property in the west suburbs,” I said.

I had just hung up when a voice barked from behind me.

“Prissie! You’re selling the engagement gift I gave you? Why?!”

Declan stood at the end of the hallway, for some reason looking furious.

“Didn’t you insist on getting married there? Kicking up a fuss about it like it was the end of the world?”

“Well, I changed my mind,” I replied flatly.

Declan’s POV

‘Changed her fucking mind?’ I scoffed inwardly. ‘The damn wedding’s only ten days out!’

‘Switching venues now? Impossible… unless… unless she’s not planning on marrying me anymore?’ The suspicion crept in before I could stop it.

But the idea was so ridiculous, I actually laughed.

I was just about to ask what fairytale castle she thought she could magically switch to.

But then, out of nowhere, Reigne showed up barefoot.

She wrapped herself around my arm, same as always, then rose on her toes and brushed a kiss against my cheek.

Prissie’s POV

“Oh! Prissie! You’re awake already…”

Reigne acted as if she hadn’t seen me before kissing him, then bashfully ducked behind Declan’s shoulder like some innocent little girl.

“Um, Prissie,” she chirped sweetly, “Dex made so much delicious food this morning. I ate so much my tummy hurts, and I still couldn’t finish it all. Could you help me out and eat some too?”

Declan chuckled indulgently and pinched her nose.

“Silly girl. Don’t eat like that again. Take some digestive tablets—here, I’ll rub your tummy for you.”

I was starving, so I didn’t reject her offer.

But I had barely taken a few bites when she started giggling coquettishly.

“Dex, you’re so naughty! You promised to just rub my tummy… Hey! Bad hands! That part is offlimits, okay?”

Across the table, Declan leaned in to nibble playfully at her ear as he smiled and murmured an apology.

I caught him sneaking a glance in my direction—obviously deliberate, though he acted like it was unintentional.

Prissie’s POV

All it took was a single glance for the smile to vanish from his face.

Gritting his teeth, Declan demanded, “Hey, Prissie, where’s the bracelet on your wrist?”

It was the very first gift he had ever given me.

We’d grown up together for fifteen years, and he had never once seen me take it off.

I slowly bit a mouthful of toast, not even bothering to look up as I replied casually, “It was old. It broke.”

The second I said that, his jaw tightened. He let out a scoff, pressing his fingers against his temples as if trying to rein in his temper.

“And then?” he asked coldly.

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I said, “I’m done eating. You two can continue.”

Just as I stood up to leave, showing not the slightest bit of care, Declan suddenly slammed his palm against the table with a loud bang.

But before he could explode, Reigne pouted and beat him to it.

“Dex, I… I cut my finger with the table knife… I’m bleeding…” she said, her voice pitiful.

Upon hearing that, Declan took her hand, brought her fingertip to his mouth, and gently sucked the wound clean—without the slightest trace of disgust. Then, holding her in his arms, he rushed her to the hospital.

The moment they left, the moving company I had scheduled arrived.

I had all of my personal belongings moved into the new apartment that man had bought.

Once everything was settled, I placed the keys to the villa on the entryway table and walked out the front door without the slightest trace of sentimentality.

Two days later, I had just stepped out of my personal studio when Declan intercepted me and forcibly brought me to a seaside restaurant.

Candlelight. Ocean breeze. Fresh seafood.

Everything I used to whisper about—my little fantasies of the perfect date—he made them all come true that night.

Then, as if trying to seal the moment, he pulled out a flawless diamond bracelet, gently lifted my hand, and tried to slip it on for me.

But I quickly pulled my hand back and smiled politely, keeping my distance. “This bracelet is far too expensive. You should give it to Reigne instead.”

His expression shifted slightly.

“I was gone for just two days,” he said darkly, “and now you’re giving me this moody attitude? Prissie, do you seriously think you’re the lady of the Mortimers?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I said with a small shake of my head.

His eyes grew even colder.

“I’m warning you, Prissie—don’t push your luck. Don’t test my patience.”

I looked at him and gave a sincere smile.

“You can rest assured. From this moment on, I won’t have anything more to do with you because—”

Before I could finish my sentence, Declan’s phone rang.

It was a call from Reigne.

Her voice on the other end was trembling, barely holding back sobs.

“Dex, I know today is your tenth anniversary with Prissie. I shouldn’t be calling… but this time, I’m really leaving. Please believe me, no one forced me… everything… everything was my choice…”

She hung up right after, and no matter how many times Declan tried to call back, all he got was a busy tone.

Enraged, he smashed the diamond bracelet to pieces—completely ignoring the shards that flew across my face, slicing into my skin.

Then, losing all control, he grabbed me by the throat, his face dark with fury.

“What kind of underhanded trick are you playing this time, huh?” he growled.

I met his eyes without a hint of fear. “It has nothing to do with me.”

He let out a sharp laugh through gritted teeth.

“Prissie, watching you pretend to be innocent and jealous—it honestly makes me sick.”

Then, with eyes full of contempt, he threw me violently to the ground and stormed out without another word.

The moment he left, a message from Reigne popped up on my phone.

[So what if you’re a rich and powerful heiress? In the end, my three months still won over your ten years, Prissie.]

I replied with a single line. [Congratulations.]

Then I blocked her.

I had just reached the doorway, hand braced against the wall for support, when Declan’s bodyguards appeared. One of them clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me into the bathroom.

He forced me down into the dirty toilet water, again and again—relentless, merciless torture!

I was barely clinging to life, but that still wasn’t enough. In the end, they tore the clothes off my body and threw me into a freezing storage unit set to ninetynine degrees below zero!

As I hovered on the brink of death, I heard Declan’s voice echoing through the restaurant’s public announcement system.

“I told you to keep an eye on Prissie! What do you mean you don’t know where she is?!”

Declan’s POV

“Useless! Every last one of you! Out of my way!” I snapped, shoving past the idiots clogging the hallway. “I’ll find her myself!”

Thirty damn minutes later, after tearing through what felt like a hundred rooms in that goddamn restaurant, I finally found Prissie.

I yanked open the freezer door. She was inside—curled up and shaking, her skin blotched purple and blue from the cold.

Just then, one of my men burst in right then, panting like he’d just brought me gold.

“Sir! We found Ma’am Reigne! She rearended an Audi at the intersection—”

I didn’t need the rest.

I already spun around and dashed out without looking back.

Prissie’s POV

In a hospital room, I slowly opened my eyes and saw Declan standing beside the hospital bed, adjusting the IV drip.

When he noticed I was awake, he looked uncertain and asked carefully, “Are you having trouble breathing? The doctor said side effects are normal after a rib extraction.”

I stared at him in confusion. “Why would I have a rib removed?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, he spoke cautiously, as if choosing every word, “Reigne injured her nose in a car accident. She’s been crying nonstop, saying she’s disfigured…”

He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I had no choice but to use your rib to reconstruct her nasal bridge.”

I shut my eyes, a deep breath held back in my throat. Then, I said clearly, word by word, “Declan. We’re done. From this moment on, I never want to see you again.”

He let out a tired sigh, rubbing his brow as if trying to suppress a headache.

“Prissie, you’re thirty years old,” he shot back. “Can you stop throwing these childish tantrums already?”

He sighed again, softening his voice.

“Didn’t you always say you wanted a honeymoon with me? Fine. I promise, when things at work settle down, I’ll make time to take you. Happy now?”

Just as he finished, his phone vibrated.

It was a voice message from Reigne, her voice too sweet.

“Dex! My passport’s finally ready! You really meant it when you said you’d take me to Barcelona? I heard that’s where Prissie’s parents met and fell in love, isn’t it romantic?”

Declan replied without hesitation. “Of course. Pack your things—we’re leaving tonight.”

He walked out eagerly while replying to the voice message, tossing a final statement over his shoulder as if it were an unchangeable decree.

“I’ve got an urgent business trip, Prissie. The wedding next week will have to be postponed. We’ll discuss the new date once I’m back.”

He left me with no chance to argue with him or even attempt to stop him.

As his figure disappeared down the hallway, I silently loosened the grip of my bleeding fingers, the halfmoon crescents my nails had left in my palm beginning to sting.

Late at night in the Bradley International Airport, standing alone in the waiting area, I received a message from him.

[There’s a cold front coming in the next couple of days. I bought you the latest scarf collection. My driver will drop it off at your place tomorrow.]

I thought of the photo Reigne had posted half an hour ago, flaunting her new designer wardrobe.

The only thing it was missing… was a scarf.

I stared at the screen for a moment, then locked my phone without replying.

Just then, a pair of familiar arms wrapped gently around me from behind.

“Prissie! I’m back!”

I turned, ready to say something. But my eyes caught a familiar scene across the terminal.

Declan and Reigne were walking hand in hand, fingers interlocked. They were heading toward the VIP lounge.

I shifted my gaze and didn’t look again. Instead, I welcomed the kiss my new fiancé pressed to my forehead, let him take my hand, and quietly walked out of the airport with him.

‘Declan,’ I wished mentally, ‘I wish you a safe journey, and may your love story find its perfect ending. As for me? May my wedding be filled with joy, and my marriage last a lifetime.’

Declan’s POV

In Barcelona, stretched out in a presidential suite, Reigne turned to me and asked, “Dex, are you still feeling dizzy? Maybe we should go to the hospital?”

The worry in her voice was real—sweet, even.

I caught her hand, gave her palm a light squeeze, and offered a smile that told her exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m fine. I just haven’t had enough rest lately. But don’t worry—wherever you want to go these next few days, I’m right there with you.”

Her eyes lit up with joy, though she pouted slightly.

“Then I’m going to sing you a lullaby so you can sleep fast and get some rest.”

A lullaby.

That word triggered something.

Some old tune started to stir in the back of my head—something from my childhood.

What was it again?

I couldn’t remember anymore.

Declan’s POV

The only thing I could clearly remember was that girl’s wide, trusting eyes—right before I lulled her to sleep.

And the second that memory came back, the pounding of my head and the tension in my chest that had followed me all day spiked.

Yeah, deep down, I knew exactly what set the discomfort off—that glimpse at the airport; that shape of a woman.

If some tall asshole hadn’t had his hands all over her… I would’ve sworn it was Prissie.

Later that night, while Reigne was in the shower, I opened iMessage.

Still, there was no reply from Prissie about the damn scarf.

What the hell was this supposed to mean?

Giving me the silent treatment?

I let out a short laugh, cold and unimpressed, and tossed the phone on the bed. Then I walked into the bathroom and slid into the warm tub beside Reigne.

The next three days, I shut everything else down—calls, work, even my assistant. I focused all my attention on Reigne. I took her to the best spots around half the city.

On the fourth night in Barcelona, Reigne curled up in my lap with a stack of postcards. She wrote gushing letters to her friends in Connecticut.

She fell asleep like that.

I stayed there for a while, doing nothing, then reached for one of the blank postcards.

Before I could stop myself, the pen in my hand moved.

[Prissie]

The name sat there on the page.

I stared at it for a beat, then crumpled the card and tossed it into the trash.

On the fifth day of our trip, Reigne stood before me wearing only lacy lingerie, her face flushed like a pink rose.

“Dex,” she murmured, “I know you’ve been holding back all this time because you’re afraid of hurting me… but I really want to be your woman.”

Her eyes shimmered with sincerity.

As usual, I responded with a gentle kiss, showering her with hours of tender affection.

But even so, I never crossed that final line—an invisible boundary I myself didn’t fully understand, nor for whom exactly I was guarding it.

In the end, Reigne fell asleep with tears silently soaking her pillow.

Early morning, day six, I called one of the guys back at the office.

I kept my tone nonchalant when I asked, “Has Prissie been doing her usual thing? Crying at the office, begging to see me?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before the reply came, hesitant and vague.

“SSir, Ma’am Prissie hasn’t come by at all recently.”

Huh.

I clenched the phone tightly. “Is that so? Well, good for her.” I sneered. “I guess she’s finally figured out how to behave.”

After hanging up, I dove straight into the villa’s infinity pool, swimming until exhaustion finally forced me to return to the room.

On the seventh day, he strolled hand in hand with Reigne through charming streets in the foreign city.

We laughed. Touched. Took photos. Everything about us screamed honeymoon.

Street vendors even smiled and congratulated us, mistaking them for newlyweds.

That illusion shattered the moment a woman appeared across the street in a flowing apricotcolored dress.

I narrowed my eyes and scoffed under my breath.

“Look who’s here. So this is why you’ve been so quiet lately? You actually flew out here to follow me?”

With disgust written all over his face, I stormed across the street, grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her around—and froze.

Damn it. Wrong woman.

She didn’t even look close to Prissie.

It was just that the woman happened to be wearing the same style of dress Prissie used to love—one I’d always hated.

Out of my head, I charged through traffic like a reflex.

By the time the woman disappeared, I stood frozen for a long moment, my mind spinning.

That’s when I felt the buzzing in my pocket.

I pulled my phone to check—my Facebook Messenger group chat with my guys was blowing up.

Damn punks. I tapped in, fully intending to leave the group.

But one glance stopped me cold.