Dumped by My Fiancé, Claimed by the Billionaire

The restaurant's lighting was dimmed low.

I sat in a corner of the restaurant, staring at the steak that had long gone cold in front of me.

I read through the breakup text Theodore had sent me over and over again on my phone.

"Sorry Vivian, I love you very much, but I still yearn for freedom more. I don't want to enter into marriage too early—it would make me feel suffocated. I think we both need to separate for a while and calm down."

In my ears, the pianist played Moonlight Sonata, the melody gentle and calm, but my heart felt like it was sinking into an endless deep sea, unable to catch my breath.

We had dated for eight years. During that time, Theodore had been nothing short of the perfect partner in my mind.

We came from similar backgrounds, shared common interests, and from the time he pursued me in college, we had been inseparable.

He was attentive, remembered all my preferences, and would magically produce flowers to cheer me up when I was down.

We had even spent an unforgettable night together just two days ago.

The feeling of his rough, dry palm caressing my skin, my body trembling involuntarily...

But that man who had once proposed to me actually said marrying me would suffocate him.

Tears splashed onto the screen, startling me.

I was crying?

How could I cry over a man who didn't deserve me?

Since Theodore wanted to break up, fine then.

But he would have to pay the price for it. Adults always have to pay for their actions.

I wouldn't allow myself to call him.

I took a deep breath, gently wiped the corner of my eye, politely called the waiter to pay the bill, and left the restaurant with my head held high.

As I left, I noticed the waiter kept looking at me, her lips pressed tightly together.

Her gaze held a hint of sympathy, and she asked gently if I needed help calling a cab.

Perhaps I looked quite pathetic at this moment—wearing a haute couture gown but sitting alone in the restaurant for nearly two hours.

Well, everyone knew I'd been stood up.

But at least she didn't know this situation was much worse than being stood up.

I smiled and declined her kindness, then waited by the street in my designer heels for my car.

"Miss Vivian, are we heading home now?"

Home? That home that had been occupied by someone else? That disgusting place couldn't be called home.

"To a nearby bar!"

Right now I just wanted to stop thinking about Theodore, stop thinking about those annoying things at home.

The bar's music pounded against my eardrums as I drank glass after glass.

My throat felt like it had a thorn stuck in it—couldn't swallow it down, couldn't spit it out.

"Miss, do I have the honor of drinking with you?"

A voice that tried to sound proper but was full of teasing reached me. I just glanced at him and didn't want to respond.

I continued drinking on my own.

That scrawny man didn't give up. He snatched the glass from my hand and invited me again.

Perfect! Two disgusting men in one day!

Did he really think I had no temper?!

The next second, I planned to grab back my glass and kick hard at that greasy man who looked like a telephone pole.

Then warn him viciously, "Get the hell away from me!"

My mental rehearsal was great, and I was about to do just that.

But before I could stand up, the man seemed to realize something and suddenly placed the glass on the table very respectfully and left awkwardly.

"What a freak!"

I ignored him and continued drinking.

Tonight I was going to get drunk, then go home and sleep hard, then think about how to get revenge. Revenge?

Revenge on who again?

A familiar yet irrepressible feeling suddenly surged through my body.

So hot, my heart was racing!

Was the alcohol this strong?

No, something was wrong with this drink!

My eyelids began to grow heavy, my mind and body both felt so thirsty and hot!

My mind kept replaying intimate nights with Theodore. Damn it, stop thinking about that bastard! My brain and body were like two extremes—my brain wanted to tear apart the son of a bitch who drugged me, but my body was extremely sensitive.

I struggled to stay conscious, avoiding the men and women dancing in the dance floor, stumbling toward the exit.

The car was parked outside. I just needed to get to it.

"Beauty, are you drunk? Come, let me help you!"

The scrawny man from before came over again. His smile was sleazy, his tone provocative, reaching out to put his arm around my waist and pull me toward him.

"Bang!"

"Ow, who the fuck are you!"

The man's pained cry cleared my head for a moment. I looked up to see the scrawny man's hand firmly twisted behind his back and pressed against a nearby bar table. The scrawny man kept cursing, trying to struggle but held down firmly.

The person restraining him wore a well-tailored suit, had deep and defined features, and carried the natural aura of someone in power.

"Maxwell?"

I recognized this person. He often appeared in major financial headlines, and calling him City C's richest man wouldn't be an exaggeration.

"Miss Vivian, are you alright? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

His voice was calm, but his eyes revealed a kind of concern, and... anticipation?

Strange, I was feeling so terrible that things should be blurry, so why could I see even his micro-expressions so clearly?

Was I starting to hallucinate?

Maxwell threw the man to the bodyguard behind him. "Make him hand over the antidote, then send him to the police station!"

The scrawny man wailed that he hadn't done anything, but no one paid attention. The bodyguard's massive fist slammed into his stomach, then dragged him away like a rag.

The surrounding crowd had already moved away from us. My legs gave out and I fell forward.

"Careful!"

I fell into a solid chest.

"I'll take you to the hospital."

"No!"

If I were sent to the hospital, tomorrow the scandal of the Haomeng Group heir being drugged would be everywhere.

My body was burning hot now, my eyes unfocused. After meeting Maxwell's deep blue, profound gaze, I made a bold decision.

"Please, please take me to a private room."

Maxwell stared at me steadily, then the next second picked me up. My head rested weakly against his solid arm. His woody cologne wrapped around me completely, and I felt my throat go dry.

I knew every bar had private rooms specially reserved for distinguished guests, and thinking that Maxwell was here, he must have one too.

Sure enough, before long, we entered a quiet, secluded private room. I was placed on the sofa and heard Maxwell say, "Send the antidote over as soon as he confesses."

Then came the sound of the door closing.

My breathing was labored, and I kept tearing at my top, trying to make myself more comfortable.

Maxwell stopped my further movements. "Hang in there a bit longer, the antidote will be here soon."

I didn't listen. All I knew was that my head was about to explode, and I needed release.

And the person before me was my best antidote.