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My Fiancé Chose His Mistress Over Ninety-Nine Proposals Novel Cover

My Fiancé Chose His Mistress Over Ninety-Nine Proposals

After ninety-nine sincere marriage proposals, my billionaire fiancé ultimately chose his mistress over our future together. Heartbroken but resolute, I realized that my devotion meant nothing to a man blinded by a fleeting affair. Instead of dwelling on the betrayal, I decided to reclaim my dignity and walk away from the life we built. This is a story of heartbreak and empowerment as I navigate the high-stakes world of elite society to find my own path.
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Chapter 1

The tenth time I attempted to have our wedding, Jaxson once again didn't show up. I called him to ask why, forgetting my phone was still connected to the banquet hall's sound system. Everyone heard the scandalous sounds that made my cheeks burn.

"Lilah, today the team at work organized a hike. We're about to reach the summit, so let's talk about the engagement party another time. Gotta go."

A wave of disappointment swept through the crowd, and even the waitstaff looked at me with pity. After ninety-nine proposals, Jaxson had only begrudgingly agreed to our engagement, yet he never actually attended any of our celebrations.

I quietly removed my veil and dropped the engagement ring into the fountain. After seven years of trying to make it work, my constant humility and concessions only led to his increasingly blatant betrayals. Humiliated by the tenth failed attempt, I resolved to let go. He would be permanently erased from my future plans...

---

With Jaxson absent, the engagement party awkwardly came to an end. As I was returning the guests' gifts, my Aunt Camilla dismissed me with a worried look.

"Keep this ten grand. Don’t bother sending me a wedding invitation anymore."

"I'm just going to pretend you’re not my niece. Don’t call me your aunt in front of anyone because I can't take that kind of embarrassment anymore!"

Ever since my parents died in a car accident six years ago, Aunt Camilla became one of my few remaining relatives. But after so many failed attempts, even her patience had run dry. And mine too, apparently.

After cleaning up the mess, a waiter approached with a black garbage bag.

"Miss Gardner, I couldn’t find a better bag to fit these, so I had to use a trash bag. Would you like to take these love letters with you or leave them here for the next engagement party?"

I stubbed out my cigarette, feeling drained as I looked at the bulging garbage bag. Inside were the ninety-nine love letters I had written to Jaxson during our courtship. The idea was to have them cascade down from balloons above the stage for a romantic touch.

"Since they're in a trash bag, you might as well throw them away with the trash," I said, shaking my head without further comment.

They say third time’s a charm, but Jaxson stood me up ten times in a row when it came to our engagement celebrations. While I frantically called to find out where he was, he had forgotten the wedding date altogether. He even concocted absurd excuses like claiming he was on a hike.

The call connected, and scandalous sounds echoed throughout the room. I could clearly hear a woman's breathless moans, while Jaxson blandly insisted he was hiking. He couldn’t have imagined how mortified I felt standing on the stage with every eye in the room on me.

It was him who agreed to marry me, him who planned the invitations. Yet the scorn and ridicule were mine alone to bear. As I left the hotel, I overheard waitstaff mocking me:

"Do you think she's got mental issues? Maybe no one actually wants to marry her. Otherwise, why keep paying the breach-of-contract fee to our hotel ten times?"

"Watch your words. Isn’t her fiancé too busy hiking to show up? Makes you wonder what kind of mountain he's climbing. Sounds like a good time."

The laughter faded as the sound of heavy rain took over. My wedding dress was soaked, the once pristine hem now caked with mud, my makeup completely ruined. Bystanders cast curious, pitiful glances my way.

Right then, my phone rang. The wedding was already over, but the absentee groom was calling.

"Lilah, the team event is over. I'm on my way now. Just wait for another half-hour and I'll be there."

Jaxson was three hours late and continued to lie. It was pouring rain, yet there was complete silence on his end. I wiped the rain from my cheeks and laughed dryly:

"Are you on your way here or just in a hotel bed?"

Jaxson paused, speechless, seemingly caught out by my words.

"The wedding is over. Stay with that little fox in your bed. I'm not interested in your excuses anymore."

I had no delusions left about him and prepared to end the call. But just then, Jaxson began shouting:

"I told you, the company organized an unexpected team-building event, so I forgot about the wedding! Stop being unreasonable, okay? Just tell me, are we still getting married or not?"

His vehement reaction told me I struck a nerve. Without hesitating, I said bluntly:

"I'm not marrying you. Do whatever you like."

Hearing that, Jaxson lowered his voice to a growl:

"Lilah Gardner, you said it yourself this time. Don’t go pleading like you used to."

I didn’t bother listening anymore and hung up with a snap. Shortly after, a notification popped up on my screen. It was from Ariyah Gutierrez. I opened it to find a picture of a king-sized bed in a love hotel.

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