Called Off the Wedding, Left Him Bankrupt novel Chapter 7

Cynthia held back the urge to scream at him, biting down her fury as she turned and walked inside.

For the past three days, Benedict had kept himself busy, and so had she.

Photo after photo had arrived on her phone—Benedict and Giselle Channing coming and going from the same apartment, as if flaunting their intimacy.

On the eve of their wedding, he'd moved in with another woman, treating it like some last wild celebration before stepping into the so-called grave of marriage.

Benedict followed her in, retrieving a first-aid kit from the cabinet. He took out iodine and cotton swabs, then walked over to her without a word, his jaw set.

Without asking, he grabbed her hand, tending to the fresh cut himself.

"You're always so careful with your hands," he muttered, his voice tense. "Don't take your anger out on yourself."

A bitter smile flickered at Cynthia's lips. "Isn't it you who's hurting me?"

She didn't linger on the topic. Instead, she pulled a document from the side table and held it out to him.

"Read through the terms. If you're fine with them, sign."

Benedict took the folder, frowning as he skimmed the contents.

"A property division agreement?"

She simply nodded. "Yes."

He let out a short, incredulous laugh. "We're about to get married and you want me to sign this? What's the point?"

To him, her threat from the other day had been nothing but empty words.

After seven years together, he couldn't imagine she'd ever leave.

Cynthia lifted her gaze to meet his, her voice steady. "That's exactly why we need this—because we're getting married. Everything we had before the wedding stays separate."

She knew that only by truly walking away would Benedict realize she hadn't been bluffing.

His eyes grew colder, a mocking smile curling at the edge of his mouth. Still, he didn't hesitate. "Fine."

She passed him a pen.

Benedict looked at her, irritation flashing across his face, but he signed his name and handed the document back.

"Happy now?" he asked, reaching to pull her into his arms.

Cynthia stepped away, slipping the papers into a folder. "I'll have the agreement notarized. When the time comes, I'll need you to cooperate."

His expression darkened instantly. "You really don't trust me at all, do you?"

She didn't answer—her actions spoke for themselves, tucking the contract carefully into a sealed envelope.

Benedict stared down at her, lips twisted in a cold, almost imperceptible sneer. "You know, Cynthia, you're getting awfully materialistic. Shallow, even."

She met his gaze, unbothered by the accusation. "This isn't the age where love alone can keep you fed. Power and money are what actually keep you standing."

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