I'm Done With Him

The courtyard gravel crunched beneath the tires of Adrian’s black sedan as he pulled up to the curb. When he pushed the driver’s door open and stepped out, Audrey was already walking down the stone pathway toward him.

Adrian froze in place, his hand lingering on the metal door frame.

It was the first time he had ever seen her dressed like this. She wore a sleeveless, royal purple bodycon dress that fell just below her knees. The rich fabric clung to every line of her waist and hips, moving with an effortless grace that was foreign to him. Her soft, wavy hair was gathered loosely at the nape of her neck with a slim white ribbon, leaving the pale expanse of her throat and collarbones bare. Her skin looked luminous under the courtyard lights, and her features held a crisp, cool distance that commanded attention.

For three years, she had dressed in modest neutrals, soft sweaters, and muted blouses, quietly blending into the background of his life. Seeing her now, striking and sharp, made the air catch in his throat.

Then his brows pulled together, his tone turning rigid. "Go back inside and change into another dress."

Audrey paused a few paces away and tilted her chin up. "Why should I?"

"This is Grandpa's eightieth birthday celebration. You can't show up dressed like that. You are drawing far too much attention to yourself." Adrian leaned against the door, his eyes scanning her figure with clear disapproval.

Audrey walked past him toward the passenger side of the car, her heels clicking against the stone with deliberate rhythm. She reached out, bypassed the front handle, and opened the rear door instead. "That is precisely my intention. Maybe when I attend your funeral, I will wear something modest and plain."

"Audrey," Adrian growled under his breath, stepping around the hood.

Audrey did not offer him a second glance. She smoothed the skirt of her dress with one hand and slid onto the rear leather seat.

Adrian yanked open the driver’s door, dropped inside, and glared into the rearview mirror. "Get in the front. I am your fiancé, not your chauffeur."

Audrey cast a calm glance down at the front passenger seat. Nestled against the leather crease sat a pair of dainty pearl earrings, dropped carelessly beside the console. Her gaze turned icy.

"I prefer the back," Audrey said evenly, folding her hands in her lap. "The front smells stale, and it looks cluttered. I have no desire to ruin my dress before the party even begins."

Adrian gripped the steering wheel, his jaw tightening. He tried to calculate whether she was in the middle of a mood swing, or if she was picking a fight over nothing. Usually, her cycle came near the end of the month, but she was acting like a total stranger tonight. The dashboard clock blinked, warning him that time was slipping away. As the eldest grandson of the Hawthorne family, showing up late to Alistair's banquet was out of the question. He pressed the ignition, shifted into gear, and accelerated out of the estate without another word.

***

The driveway of the Hawthorne manor was lined with luxury cars, valet attendants, and reporters kept behind velvet ropes. Adrian guided the sedan into the reserved family bay, killed the engine, and stepped out. He rounded the car, opened Audrey's door, and extended his arm for her to take.

Audrey stepped out into the cool evening air. She looked at his offered arm with quiet disdain. For a second, she considered walking straight past him. But this was Alistair’s milestone birthday. Over the past three years, the old patriarch was the only member of the Hawthorne clan who had treated her with genuine warmth, consistently defending her position as the future bride. She had taken three hundred thousand dollars of Adrian’s money for this public appearance, and she refused to give anyone an excuse to criticize the old man on his special night.

Instead of reaching out with her bare fingers, Audrey reached into her clutch, pulled out a small silk scarf, and wound it neatly around her right palm. Once the fabric created a solid barrier over her skin, she rested her covered hand over the sleeve of his dark suit jacket.

"Alright," Audrey said, looking up with a neutral smile. "We can go inside now."

A vein pulsed visibly at Adrian’s right temple. He stared down at her wrapped hand, his pride stinging as if she had slapped him across the mouth.

"Audrey, do not push your luck tonight," Adrian muttered, his voice dropping into a harsh register. "Are you really so disgusted by the thought of touching me?"

Audrey shrugged one slender shoulder, keeping her voice light. "Is it really that obvious? I will try to look less nauseated once we reach the ballroom."

***

The crystal chandeliers of the grand ballroom cast a warm glow across hundreds of elite guests. As soon as the double doors swung open, the murmurs died down, and heads turned in their direction.

Adrian was undeniably handsome. His tall frame, chiseled jawline, and commanding presence naturally drew people in, cementing his status as the heir to the most influential family in the city. Wealthy heirs and corporate executives were already angling for an opportunity to pull him into conversation.

Adrian lowered his head, patting Audrey's silk-wrapped hand with formal courtesy. "I need to greet an important client near the terrace. Mingle for a while and enjoy yourself."

Audrey gave him a cool nod and slid her hand away from his arm the second he stopped walking. The fabric had grown warm against her skin, and she immediately tucked the silk square back into her purse.

Adrian saw the swiftness of her withdrawal. A flicker of irritation crossed his eyes, but with half the room watching, he forced a polite smile, turned on his heel, and walked toward the lounge.

The moment he was out of earshot, three young women in glittering evening gowns drifted over, circling Audrey like sharks smelling blood.

"Well, look who finally showed up," the woman in the emerald gown sneered, twirling a flute of champagne between her manicured fingers. "Adrian's clingy little shadow. Didn't someone make a public scene a few days ago, bragging that she was done chasing after him?"

Audrey turned her gaze toward the woman, her eyes dark and unimpressed. "Why the sudden concern? Has Adrian lost his ability to perform?"

The woman's smug smile cracked. She had come over to humiliate Audrey, not to slander the Hawthorne heir in his grandfather's house. "What kind of filthy nonsense are you talking about?"

"You brought it up," Audrey replied, her tone dry and mocking. "I did say I was done with him. But if he is suddenly broken goods, that changes things, doesn't it? If you are so desperate to verify whether he can still get it up, why don't you offer your services and test him yourself?"

"You—!" The woman choked on her breath, her face turning crimson with rage.

The two socialites flanking her stared at Audrey with wide eyes, completely speechless. In all the years they had mocked Audrey Mercer for being a docile doormat who followed Adrian around like a puppy, she had never spoken with such crude, venomous confidence.

"Go ahead and act smug," the woman spat, trying to salvage her bruised dignity. "Giselle is back tonight. Once she walks into this hall, everyone will remember where you actually rank."

Audrey’s heart pinched faintly at the name, but her expression did not waver. Giselle Hawthorne, the family's beloved adopted daughter, had returned from abroad. Adrian’s cherished little princess was finally home.

Before the woman could say more, a familiar, petulant voice cut through the air. "Audrey! Mom and I have been calling you for three days straight. Why have you been ignoring our calls?"

Audrey turned to see Sienna Mercer stomping across the polished marble, her face twisted in annoyance. Standing right beside her was Helena Mercer, Audrey's stepmother, draped in tasteful diamonds and a tailored maroon gown.

Helena placed a comforting hand on Sienna’s shoulder, offering Audrey a sweet, patronizing smile. "Drey, dear, didn't you mention you and Adrian were going to register your marriage on Valentine's Day? I checked the family group chat all afternoon, but I didn't see you share a single picture of your marriage certificate."

Audrey reached into her evening bag, pulled out her phone, and tapped the screen without glancing up. "My finger must have slipped when I left the family chat this morning. You, Dad, and Sienna seem to manage family matters wonderfully without me. My presence in that group was always redundant anyway."

Ever since her mother passed away when she was three, and her father married Helena just three months later, Audrey had ceased having a real home.

Sienna puffed up with indignant rage. "Audrey, how dare you speak to my mother with that tone? Can't you show some basic respect?"

Before Audrey could answer, Sienna’s gaze darted past her shoulder, and her eyes lit up with excitement. "Giselle is here! Mom, look, she's over by the entrance. I'm going to say hello!"

Helena patted her daughter's arm gently. "Go on, sweetheart. Walk slowly, don't trip in those heels."

As Sienna scurried off, Helena turned back toward Audrey, smoothing the front of her gown. "Don't mind Sienna, Drey. She has always been excitable. She and Giselle have been best friends since childhood, and it has been five long years since Giselle went overseas. You can understand why she is so thrilled. By the way, did Adrian mention that Giselle was flying in today?"

The entire social circuit knew how deeply Adrian favored his adopted sister. Before Giselle left the country, Adrian had practically spoiled her to the point where outsiders wondered if she was meant to be his bride instead of his sibling. It took an iron decree from Alistair himself to silence the gossip and establish that Giselle was strictly a daughter of the Hawthorne household.

Audrey kept her mouth shut, refusing to give Helena the reaction she was fishing for.

Helena noticed Audrey’s silence and took it as a sign of weakness. Her eyes flicked across the room, spotting a tall, broad-shouldered figure striding toward their corner. Her smile widened, laced with venomous triumph.

"Time really flies, Drey," Helena murmured softly. "Even after five years apart, Adrian still treats his little sister like the most precious treasure in the world."

Audrey looked directly into her stepmother’s eyes, her voice smooth and razor-sharp. "He certainly does. But Helena, tell me something. Does Adrian know that Giselle's dearest best friend spends every waking hour pining after him, too?"

Helena’s smile vanished instantly, her pale face draining of color. "Audrey, that is an absurd accusation. Sienna is a decent girl. She would never dream of coveting her sister's fiancé."

Audrey offered a careless, amused laugh. "She can have him if she wants him. I am done with him anyway."

Helena froze, her gaze darting frantically from Audrey’s face to the shadow looming directly behind her.

"Audrey, who exactly are you done with?" Adrian's voice cut through the air.