The Framed Fiancé​

Summary

For the third time, the scent of another man’s cologne clung to my fiancée. A scent identical to the one her male assistant, Vincent, always wore.

The realization settled in my gut, cold and sharp. Isabelle was cheating on me.

I didn’t play games. I told her the engagement was off.

She wept, swearing she would cut all ties with Vincent, that she would only ever love me. And for the sake of our families’ long-standing alliance, I gave her one last chance.

Three days later, at the annual Thanksgiving Gala, Isabelle walked in, pushing Vincent in a wheelchair.