Prescription for Mistress Trouble
I had been in a relationship with Zachary Dawson for seven years and engaged for three when, out of the blue, Ruby White, the daughter of his mentor, moved into our home.
Sitting casually on the bed that Zachary and I shared, Ruby lounged with an air of nonchalance, her voice playful and teasing. "Zachary, the dental god, sure has a nice bed," she remarked with a smirk. "I can only imagine what it would be like to spend the night with him in this bed."
I captured the scene on my phone and sent the video to our family group chat with a brief message: Looks like Zachary might have a new girlfriend
Zachary rushed home, wrapping his arms protectively around a tearful Ruby. He pointed at me, his voice seething with anger. "My mentor's dying wish was for me to take care of Ruby! If you can't accept that, then move out!"
Honestly, my brows furrowed deeper than the wrinkles on the bedsheets Ruby had sat on.
Fine.
I didn't need the bed, and I didn't need a fiancé anymore.
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