Dear Ex-wife Marry Me

She didn't have the energy to reply now, but she was worried the message might be from a business

partner.

[Yes.]

[I'm Wendy. Mia told me you've been hounding Fitch.]

Zoey didn't know who Wendy was, but from what Fitch had said that night, she surmised this had to be

the woman destined to unite with him in matrimony.

Her fingers quivered, overwhelmed by an intimidating surge of feelings.

[I don't care what's happened between you and Fitch, but I'm the one who will be marrying into the

Haskins family. Our parents are already discussing our wedding. If you have any shame, I hope you'll

stay away from him. You two are from different worlds.]

Ever since meeting Fitch, she had been continuously reminded that they hailed from different worlds.

Reluctant to accept this truth, the reality of confronting his official partner now submerged her in

shame.

She didn't dare to respond and instead, opened Wendy's Facebook.

Wendy's Facebook mirrored that of typical high-society girls: a collection of study abroad photos,

peppered with images of lavish hotels, designer bags, and other unmistakably luxurious snaps.

Perhaps it wasn’t a deliberate showboating; this might simply be her everyday reality.

There were even photos and videos of Wendy at Harvard, participating in competitions with

international classmates.

Zoey scrolled through the feed as if she was addicted, careful not to leave any trace of her visit.

After losing herself in half an hour of compulsive scrolling, she paused on a specific post.

She remembered that day clearly—it was when she had fallen out with Murray.

At that time, the house she bought had just failed catastrophically, and Murray was demanding his

money returned. She was frantic, scrambling to gather funds.

But Wendy's post was about gratitude: Thank you for giving me the confidence to live in a castle.

It was a castle abroad, spanning thousands of square meters. The displayed opulence in the video

likely captured merely a fraction of its true grandeur.

Zoey felt akin to a sewer rat masochistically peering into someone else's sunlit, blissful life.

Wiping her face, she couldn't help but attempt a laugh, which came out more like a grimace.

She restarted her car, avoiding Wendy's profile picture.

In that moment, Zoey was painfully aware.

Unless Fitch was blind, how could he ever choose her over Wendy?

She wasn't even worthy of carrying Wendy's shoes.

Always feeling inferior in matters of the heart, she realized this only pushed her further into despair.

Back at her place, she wearily sank into the bathtub.

Carol called at that moment, checking on her.

"Ms. Miller, I'm fine. I've made it home. You rest early too."

Carol couldn't say much, just reminding her to keep her distance from Fitch.

Zoey looked at the ceiling, forcing a smile.

"Don't worry, I will."

Meanwhile.

When Fitch returned to the lounge, Tyler was still waiting for him, glancing behind him.

"What did you do to Zoey?"

Disinclined to engage, Fitch retrieved a glass of whiskey, downing the majority in one swift motion.

"Marrying anyone makes no difference to me." Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

After saying that, Fitch stared into his glass, lost in thought.

Tyler didn't try to persuade him. Among their circle, who really knew what genuine feelings were?

Cutting his losses now was for the best.

This wasn't secret information, but Fitch had been unaware. Content of Draмąոovels.com

All he remembered was Zoey's heartbreak over a past lover, someone she almost married.

He had assumed she was just after a cheap fling when she was so eager to get him in bed.

His gaze followed Tyler's pointer, and a frown creased his brow.

Murray was average at best, indistinguishable among the guests at the party.

Zoey had poor taste, to waste seven years on such an unremarkable man.

He scoffed and let it go.