Blurb：
When privileged heiress Olivia Cruz abandons Tristan and his mother on their wedding day to run back to childhood sweetheart Brad McCoy, tragedy strikes. Olivia’s cold rejection causes Tristan’s mother to die from cardiac arrest, while she mocks their “performance.” As Tristan mourns, Olivia flaunts her intimacy with Brad online, dismissing his pain. After six years of sacrifice—working multiple jobs for designer bags, enduring illness to care for her, and even funding Brad’s startup behind his back—Tristan realizes the truth: Olivia never valued him. Now, with his mother gone and his heart shattered, Tristan sends the final text: “I’m done, Olivia. We’re over.” But as Olivia and her friends ridicule him online, Tristan’s rage simmers. Will he seek revenge against Olivia Cruz and Brad McCoy? Dive into this emotional saga of betrayal, heartbreak, and redemption.
Content：
On the day the privileged heiress, Olivia Cruz, and I register our marriage, she leaves me and Mom stranded on a deserted road before running off to her childhood sweetheart, Brad McCoy.
Rage triggers Mom’s cardiac arrest, so I call Olivia in anxiety, begging her to come back and save Mom.
But she just says a cold line before ending the call, “Not this again. Every time I have to step away, your mom suddenly has heart pain. Your family sure knows how to put on a show, huh?”
With that, Mom misses her chance at rescue and dies.
That night, a mutual friend posts online. “Growing up together is a whole different kind of bond!”
The post shows Olivia perched on Brad’s lap with his hand resting on her waist. It’s the perfect picture of intimacy that leaves little to the imagination.
I expressionlessly tap on the like button before typing my comment. “Is this what you meant by ‘something important’?”
The friend sneers. “Relax, it’s just a game of Truth or Dare. I can’t believe you’re taking it so seriously.”
Olivia doesn’t even bother to explain, but when I walk away without a word, she finally panics.
Chapter 1
“I’m done, Olivia. We’re over.”
I sent Olivia Cruz the text without a flicker of emotion, right after boxing up the last of Mom’s belongings.
She believed I was sulking. A minute later, she took a screenshot of our chat and posted it online. “Guess some people never outgrow being petty.”
Her friends, eager to watch the show, piped up in the comments.
“Like mother, like son. Probably learned it from that hick woman.”
“He’s just a lapdog. Who told him he mattered?”
“Don’t you dare forgive him this time, Olivia. Put him in his place!”
Smiling, Olivia replied, “Of course.”
I slammed my fist into the photo frame. As the glass shattered, blood seeped through my knuckles.
I had stood by her for six years, cared for her, and obeyed her every word.
She grew up with money, but I came from an average, modest family. If she wanted a designer bag, I had to work two, sometimes three, jobs and save for months until I could place it in her hands. It was all just to see her smile. My palms blistered and my nails split, but I never complained.
She occupied the biggest place in my heart. When she caught the flu and couldn’t find the medicine at home, I dragged myself through my own fever just to bring it to her doorstep.
And yet, she burned through the money I bled for. Worse, she funneled it behind my back, time and again, into the startup of her childhood sweetheart, Brad McCoy.
After hearing what Olivia had offhandedly said, Mom emptied her savings just so she wouldn’t feel shortchanged and could have the grand wedding she deserved.
But on the day we were supposed to register our marriage, Olivia answered Brad’s call and left us stranded on a deserted road.
I tried to grab her wrist. “We haven’t signed the papers yet”
But she pulled away, slid into her car, and started the engine. “Brad just came back. His startup is struggling, so he needs me. Listen to me Stay here, and I’ll be right back.”
My eyes were bloodshot as I screamed, “If you leave, don’t bother coming back, Olivia! We’re not getting married anymore!”
She looked at me with absolute certainty. “You can never leave me, Tristan.”
And with those words, I was nailed to the spot.
Seeing Olivia leave us for another man, anger and shame hit Mom so hard that she collapsed right on the spot, clutching her chest.
No one was around. Panicking, I called Olivia and begged her to come back to save my mom. But she coldly ended the call on me.
“Again? Every time I have to leave for something, your mom pretends to have heart pain. You and your family sure know how to put on a show.”
I watched the life drain from Mom’s face and held her, screaming and breaking down in despair.
When I first started dating Olivia, Mom emptied her life savings into my hands. She had said, “Tristan, it’s been just you and me all this time, and my failing heart has held you back long enough. Let me help you this once.”
Now, she lay in my arms, barely breathing. Her face was pale as she whispered, “I still want to see you in a suit on your wedding day”
But she never got the chance. All that was left of the poor old lady was an urn of ashes.
Mom hated crowds, so I refused a big funeral. Throughout the whole time, friends dropped by with flowers, which I left outside.
I downed bottle after bottle of alcohol while clutching Mom’s urn. I broke down in grief in the bedroom. Through the door, I heard sharp, piercing laughter.
“What’s with all these white flowers, Olivia? Is he planning to take off to heaven?”
“He’s pathetic, just like his mom. Only a loser is capable of doing this.”
“Olivia, he’s cursing you to an early death with these wreaths. It’s just a dare with Brad, isn’t it? He’s too dramatic”
I had heard such insults a thousand times, but Olivia had always stayed silent, and she had never once defended me.
She had once sworn that this house was our secret refuge, and no one except us would ever set foot inside. But now, she had broken her promise and brought her whole lot of friends in, including Brad, who stood beside her.
To her, Brad was the first love she could never move on from. Her eyes had been on him ever since he returned.
When I first started my business, I asked Olivia for a loan of a few thousand dollars for an emergency. I wanted to be more than just her shadow and be a man with the ability to protect her, the woman I loved.
But she had shaken her head in disapproval. “You’re going to be my husband, and you don’t have to do that.”
Then, she turned around to drop a staggering six-figure sum on Brad’s birthday party.
When I found out about it and was bitter, she said, “It’s not what you think. He’s like family and won’t ever come between us.”
But he did. A single phone call from him was enough to summon her away from my side, while I lay in bed, burning with fever through the night. Her excuse was that she was too busy with work, but I knew the truth. It wasn’t just about being busy; she just didn’t love me anymore.
So, when Mom had a heart attack, she assumed we were faking it.
Now, seeing me hollowed out and shaking, she glared at me in disgust. “What are you scheming this time, Tristan?”
Brad’s eyes widened as he staggered back in shock. “Tristan? Even if you’ve misunderstood me and Olivia, you should at least make some effort to wash up, shouldn’t you?”
At that, her friends turned to scan me from head to toe with sharp, mocking looks in their eyes.
I hadn’t had proper sleep for days since Mom’s passing, so dark circles hung under my eyes like bruises.
“Putting on such a pathetic show just to win her back, huh?”
“Olivia told you she’d be coming over. Did you stage this whole sad, heartbroken act just to get her back?”
“Keep dreaming, lapdog.”
But Olivia had no idea I had blocked her days ago, so none of her texts could reach me.
While she drank and laughed with them at the bar, flaunting her life online, I clutched Mom’s urn and sobbed like a child.
Chapter 2
“Are you done?”
Olivia glanced at me, as unbothered as she always was whenever we fought. Then, she walked past me and dropped onto the couch like it was her rightful place.
“If you are, clean this place up. We’re having a party.”
A sharp, broken laugh escaped me.
“What the hell is so funny? You’re just a social climber. What gives you the right to laugh?”
But I continued laughing so hard that tears stung my eyes.
Olivia’s patience was wearing thin as she frowned and repeated, “Tristan, I said I’m hosting a party here.”
To her, Mom and I could never measure up to Brad. Mom had a heart attack, and she had dismissed it as theatrics.
The first time Olivia was supposed to meet Mom, she claimed she was too busy with work. Later, I found out she was at the airport picking up Brad.
Her actions almost felt like she was cutting me over and over, stabbing a knife into my heart and twisting it until it bled.
The day we were supposed to register for marriage, Brad called and said he was being forced to drink by a business partner. But in truth, he and his friends were playing a game of Truth or Dare. They wanted to see if Olivia would leave me for him.
Mom had held her hand, begging her to leave after our marriage registration. “Olivia, my son truly loves you. I have always seen you as my daughter-in-law”
I had reached for her too. “I need you, Olivia.”
But she had resolutely shoved Mom away. “You’ll be fine, Tristan, but Brad can’t make it without me.”
Her engines roared as she drove off. The next thing I knew, she was on his lap, blushing and flirting, while Mom died in my arms.
Now, I looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. “So what then? Are you planning to throw a party in front of my mom’s funeral portrait?”
The room froze for a moment before Brad let out an abrupt, unexpected snicker. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”
He had a way of sounding sincere even when he wasn’t. “Tristan, I know you’ve got the wrong idea about me and Olivia, but isn’t it too much to curse your mom like that?”
Then, ever so casually, he explained, “We were just playing a game of Truth or Dare that night. If I had known you and Olivia were getting married at the city hall, I wouldn’t have called her over.”
Olivia’s group of friends had formed a common alliance to side with Brad.
Right now, no one believed me, just like how Olivia hadn’t believed Mom’s heart was failing either. And if Brad hadn’t called Olivia away, Mom wouldn’t have gotten so agitated, which triggered a heart attack.
Noticing my clenched fists and bloodshot eyes, Brad edged back in fear while Olivia stepped in front of him protectively.
“Are you done? Your mom has always been perfectly healthy, so don’t you think you’re going too far to use her as some excuse to guilt-trip me?”
Throughout all this time, she had never once asked what happened to Mom afterward or shown concern.
Mom’s last wish was for me to be happy with Olivia, but the latter was here, throwing cold and accusing remarks.
“My patience is limited, Tristan.” Olivia expected me to apologize and soothe her temper like always, but she was wrong.
I grew up alone with Mom after Dad died in an accident when I was three. It had been more than 20 years with just the two of us.
For Olivia, I neglected Mom’s failing health and poured every ounce of myself into Olivia, who ultimately trampled on my heart till it was battered and blue.
“Enough? Get out, all of you.” I could feel my heart go cold as I pushed past the crowd and reached for the framed funeral portrait and urn.
Olivia grabbed my wrist. There was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes as her voice softened in helplessness and compromise. “Please don’t do this, Tristan. You used to be different.”
I guessed it was true when they said one would always yearn for what one couldn’t have.
There was a time I loved Olivia desperately, but she had barely glanced my way. And now that my heart had turned cold, she was trying to inch closer. How the tables had turned.
I pried her fingers away and took a step back. “Then tell me, what was I like? Your lapdog? Shameless boy toy? A social climber?”
After a pause, I added, “Or a loser?”
All color drained from her face. “Tristan”
Those were the names her so-called friends showered on me. Just because I stood by her side, I was labelled as her boy toy.
Olivia was a spoiled heiress. On the day we got together, she decided she wanted a cake from that famous pastry shop, The Cake Cottage.
Every outlet I reached out to was closed, but I didn’t want to disappoint her. So, I took the train, then a bike, and braced myself to walk miles across streets lined with sycamore trees. All that effort was to get her the cake she wanted, though I was severely allergic to sycamore pollen.
My face was flushed and swollen by the time I made it back and carefully handed her the cake.
She had nestled into my arms, held me tight, and kissed me sweetly. “Tristan, you’re the only one who’s ever treated me so well.”
And I had believed she was genuinely moved, so from then on, I willingly gave her every last piece of myself.
No matter how her friends mocked me, I didn’t care. I naively assumed that as long as I stayed by Olivia’s side, we’d be happy.
When she met Mom, the latter adored her and sent soup that had been simmering for hours to her office, for fear that she’d be too busy to eat at work. She had always reminded me to take care of Olivia and keep her happy and healthy.
She never knew that Olivia didn’t have a single sip of the soup. I had watched from around the corner as she poured every drop of the soup Mom had painstakingly made down the drain and coldly told her secretary, “Just do the same next time.”
Mom would say, “Olivia is a young heiress with refined tastes. I won’t send her more soup, then. I’ve saved up some money over the years, so take it and use it to bring her somewhere nice to eat. It’s my treat.”
That kind lady was the woman Olivia called a liar who faked an illness to trap her into marriage. The doctors said Mom would’ve survived if she had been brought in minutes earlier, but Olivia had stolen those precious minutes of survival.
Rage and grief crashed over me in waves, while her friends frowned and rolled their eyes at me in displeasure. “Watch your mouth, Tristan. Look at you. You should be grateful we even call you a boy toy”
“Shut up!” Olivia snapped, and her friends exchanged glances in dismay.
I finally understood that she could have stopped them from humiliating me all along, and all those times they had openly mocked me were because she let them. Perhaps deep down, she had always looked down on me.
Chapter 3
This time, Olivia actually lowered herself to explain. “Look, I should’ve handled things differently, but it was urgent. We could go back for the marriage registration another time, right? Tristan, we can still do it Next Monday, you’ll pick me up, and we’ll get it done at the city hall.”
Even in her apology, her voice carried that same heiress arrogance.
Once, I would’ve given in and pulled her into my arms. Burying my face in her neck, I would’ve murmured, “Don’t ever do it again.”
But now, my eyes were cold, and my tone carried a mocking edge as I said, “No need. The great Ms. Cruz doesn’t crawl back to her ex, does she?”
It was the first time I had ever addressed her in such a distant tone. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she drew in a sharp breath and gripped the edge of the table as if to steady herself.
Her voice was trembling as she asked, “Tristan, are you going to break up with me over something so trivial?”
Trivial? What trivial stuff was she referring to? Was Mom’s death a trivial thing too?
Rage surged through my chest, and the veins in my arms throbbed with fury. When I spoke, my voice came out low and sharp. “And what about you, Olivia? To this day, you’ve never asked about my mom.”
She froze slightly and avoided my eyes. “Your mom is strong and healthy. Maybe even two Brads might not compare to her. But fine, if this is what it’s about, I’ll send her some supplements.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her tone sounding almost condescending as if she were bestowing a kind favor.
Her friends chimed in, “Be grateful that Olivia’s being generous, Tristan. Those supplements cost a fortune. Your country-bumpkin mom could never dream of affording them.”
I felt my throat tighten, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. It was almost laughable that even now, Olivia still thought Mom was after her money and status.
I remembered bringing Olivia home to meet Mom and how she had shown up empty-handed. At the time, I told myself she was just unbothered, but later, I learned she looked down on me and distrusted Mom.
I later heard her friends mocking Mom behind my back. “She’s full of lies. If she did have heart problems, she wouldn’t have lived this long.”
“Tristan’s probably just pushing his mom to fake a heart illness so that he can guilt you into marrying him. Don’t fall for it, Olivia.”
And Olivia believed them.
When Mom was alive, she had given those supplements to the same bunch of friends. And now that Mom was gone, it was laughable that she was eagerly handing them over.
“No need,” I said flatly.
Suddenly, Brad screamed. Olivia instinctively rushed to his side, looking all worried and concerned. “What’s wrong?”
He pointed, wide-eyed, at my mother’s portrait and urn and asked in a trembling voice, “Why is there an urn here? Could your mom be”
“No way!” Olivia snapped as an ominous feeling crept up in her chest.
People would often believe whatever let them sleep at night. If she had ever stopped to think about why Mom often struggled to breathe around her and why heart medication was scattered all over our house, she would’ve known Mom had a failing heart.
One of her so-called friends just sneered, “I bet Tristan held the funeral for his mom just to win Olivia back. Pathetic.”
“That’s such a disgusting move! Watch out for karma, Tristan!”
They stared at me like I was filth, and even Olivia’s expression hardened. “I never thought you’d stoop this low. If your mom sees”
“She won’t,” I said, closing my eyes as my temples throbbed.
Noticing the solemn look on my face, she immediately softened. “Tristan”
But I was done and wanted nothing more to do with them. All I wanted was to take Mom’s urn out of here, so I picked it up and declared, “Since none of you will leave, I will.”
“Still putting on a show, huh?” Olivia sneered.
At her signal, her friends closed in, while Brad snatched the urn from me. Then, he leaned close and muttered, “You don’t have to go this far, Tristan. You could’ve saved those flowers outside for your mom, who spent her whole life pretending to be sick. Maybe they’ll come in handy when she dies one day.”
I hysterically fought back and tried to swing my fist at him, only to be held back by his friends. “I’ll kill you!”
“Oops!” Brad dropped the urn, which hit the floor with a dull crack and spilled white ashes across the floor. Then, he pressed his hands together in mock apology, though his words seemed to imply that I was putting on an act.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to knock over your milk powder. But it won’t go to waste. I’ll give it to Butter so that it can serve its actual purpose.”
Butter was his favorite pet Doberman.
Blood froze in my veins, and a scream tore from my throat. “What are you doing!”
Off to the side, Olivia coldly chimed in, “Sounds fine to me. Even if we have money, we cannot waste food carelessly.”
I turned to her and almost begged, “Please, Olivia, I’m begging you”
But she smirked and seemed unfazed. “Keep acting, Tristan. Let’s see how far you’ll take it.”
Something inside me snapped after hearing that. I could almost taste blood in my mouth as I yelled, “You’ll regret this, Olivia!”
“Look, he’s even doing the bitter act. Pretty convincing, huh?” Someone nearby snorted, which immediately shattered her hesitation.
I watched, frozen, as Brad poured warm water into the ash and stirred. Butter dipped its head and tentatively tasted the mixture.
“No!” My heart tightened as if seized by a pair of massive, invisible handsso much so that I could barely breathe.
Breaking free from the hands holding me, I slammed my fist into Brad’s face and screamed like a madman, “That’s my mom’s ashes! You monster! I’ll kill you!”
Tears streamed down my face as I slammed him to the ground and pummeled him with everything I had until hands dragged me off. Even then, my eyes burned red with hatred as they fixed on the couple.
“You’ve lost your damn mind, Tristan! How dare you hurt Brad over some milk powder?”
Shocked, Olivia checked Tristan’s body for injuries and never bothered to ask if I was hurt.
My eyes were bloodshot, and my voice sounded hoarse as I hissed, “I regret ever loving you, Olivia. If I had known it’d cost my mom, I’d rather have never met you.”
Halfway through dabbing at the blood on Brad’s lips, she froze before turning around to mock. “If you won’t stop with this act, I don’t mind marrying someone else.”
I cried until my tears turned into broken laughter, and my eyes fixed on Olivia with pure bitterness.
“I hate you, Olivia,” I growled in a raw, drained voice. “I hate you so much.”
Her patience snapped. “Enough! You can stop pretending now”
Before she could finish, one of her friendsDaniel Campbellstepped forward with a document. He hesitantly said, “Olivia, I found a death certificate. Tristan’s mom I think she’s really dead.”
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