Jonathan cheated.

Elaine stood just outside the fitting room at the bridal shop and saw her fiancé in a very compromising moment with another woman.

“Jon… so, does this wedding dress look better on me or on your fiancée?”

“You, of course. I’m literally obsessed with you—what more proof do you need?”

The woman giggled, clearly satisfied with the answer.

“I want you to remember me forever—even on your wedding day, on your anniversaries—you’ll always think of today, and me.”

Elaine felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over her head.

Right before the wedding, the ever-so-family-oriented Jonathan had been constantly “on business trips.” Now she knew why—he had someone else.

Trying not to puke, Elaine turned away and walked to her car.

They’d been together seven years. Built a company, shared life’s struggles, turned “Yuanbo” into the success it was today.

Her sister had warned her that Jonathan wasn’t a good guy. She even texted her about it.

[Our family won’t be attending your wedding with Jonathan. Think for yourself.]

Elaine’s eyes were red as she replied:

[I’m calling it off too.]

There was a long pause before her sister replied.

[Come back to the capital in a month. If you do, I’ll believe you. Otherwise, we’re done as sisters.]

Elaine sent a simple [Okay] and put her phone away.

She started the car and drove off. Just as she pulled away, Jonathan stepped out of the bridal shop with the other woman on his arm. He froze when he recognized her license plate.

But it was too late. Her car had already disappeared down the street.

He gently brushed the woman’s hand off his arm and straightened his shirt, snapping right back into his usual “polished gentleman” look.

“I’ll have my assistant take you home,” he said coolly.

The woman pouted, “No fair, you promised to go shopping with me.”

Jonathan gave her hair a gentle ruffle, his gaze chilling despite the smile. “Be good.”

She didn’t dare push further, reluctantly stepping back and leaving with his assistant.

Once she was gone, Jonathan walked over to his own car. His reflection in the polished surface stared back—clean-cut, flawless, like nothing ever happened.

Back home, he spotted Elaine’s car in the garage. She was still sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at her phone.

“Heading out?” he asked casually, opening the door and tossing his suit jacket onto her passenger seat before leaning in close.

His black shirt was unbuttoned casually, revealing a glimpse of toned muscle underneath—flawless, like he hadn’t just been fooling around elsewhere.

She didn’t respond, so he leaned in, about to kiss her.

Elaine quickly turned off her phone and blocked him with her hand, her tone cold.

“Why? Scared I’d actually leave?”

He paused. “Of course not. You can go wherever you want. I just don’t want you getting bored by yourself.”

He pulled her closer by the waist, voice soft and coaxing.

“Come on, tell your hubby—who upset my girl, hmm?”

Elaine didn’t respond, just stared at his annoyingly perfect face with dead-cold eyes.

Like always, he could instantly tell when something was off. He’d coax her, find the root of any problem, and swoop in with emotional support.

Elaine shook her head faintly, looked away, and said quietly, “Jonathan, you’ve been... pretty busy lately. I think we can skip the wedding. Don’t want to distract you while you’re multitasking.”Jonathan Thompson clearly thought Elaine Woods was being unreasonable. I mean, he’s a public figure now, right?

“Say that again?” His voice was laced with anger.

Elaine didn’t flinch, just stared straight at him.

“There’s no need for the wedding anymore. You’re obviously too busy juggling things,” she said, and turned to leave.

But Jonathan grabbed her arm, his temper rising, frustration flashing in his eyes.

“I’m working my ass off for the company—for us! You want our kid to start life already behind the curve?

I just got back from a business trip, and instead of showing some care, you act like this? Since when did you turn into someone so difficult?”

Elaine looked at him hard, taking in his accusations. It was almost laughable.

The man standing before her felt like a total stranger. Full of lies, like most scumbags—cheating and still blaming her, like she pushed him into another woman’s bed with a knife to his throat.

There were still two months before the wedding, but her sister gave her one month to sort things out here. After that... Jonathan Thompson would be nothing but a memory.

Without another word, she went upstairs, walked into their bedroom, and stepped into the bathroom to start washing up.

Jonathan followed, wrapping his arms around her from behind, his tone softening instantly.

“It’s all on me, baby. I’ve been swamped and didn’t notice how you were feeling. I’ll push off everything for the next few days—no social stuff, just me and you, okay?”

Elaine looked up into the mirror. His face leaned close, all sweet talk and fake concern. She smiled, cold and sharp.

“No need for that. I—”

She didn’t finish. His phone rang, cutting her off. The ringtone? Some sappy love song that’s been trending lately.

Funny. Jonathan had always used generic beeps before. Back when they were madly in love and just starting the company, she once suggested matching ringtones, something cheesy and romantic. He said no—claimed it wasn’t professional when dealing with clients.

Turns out, it wasn’t about professionalism. Just that she wasn’t worth the trouble.

Jonathan glanced at the caller ID and immediately hung up. “Spam call.”

Elaine pressed her lips into a thin line. She’d seen it—caller name was “181 seconds.” She just hmm’d lightly and let it slide.

Phone rang again. He silenced it. And again. The third time, he turned away to answer.

“There’re some major projects lined up lately. I’ve been really tied up. Try to understand, alright? I’ll sleep at the office tonight, but I’ll be back early tomorrow to go try on the wedding dress with you. Don’t wait up, get some rest.”

Elaine didn’t even glance at him. Just kept brushing her teeth. In the mirror, she caught his back as he left, pulling the door shut behind him.

Once he was gone, she pulled out her phone and searched what “181 seconds” meant.

Among all the results, one reply stood out clear as day:

“Most people lose interest after three minutes. But you, you’re my extra second—my 181st.”

The ache in her chest was sharp and sudden. Ignoring it, she opened the real estate app and listed their villa for sale.

In one month, she’d be out of Yuncheng and back in the capital. She didn’t need anything from this place anymore.

Nothing. Not even Jonathan Thompson.