Page 2 of My Ex's Billionaire Brothers

Calvin’s family built a billion-dollar empire on old money from oil, steel, and timber ventures, going back to the 1800s. The Carver name is a staple in American industry—and the philanthropic world, if you believe all the charity dinners. The family has already weathered scandals, according to Calvin. He’s not sure if they can take another.

I have to cheer him up. “Well…speaking of big plans, we haven’t talked about wedding stuff in a while, but I’ve got it all under control. Nothing for you to worry about. The caterer is booked and so are the flowers. There’s this gorgeous place by the waterfront?—”

“Yeah,” he cuts in, setting his fork down. “Actually, about that…” His tone worries me.

“Do you want input on the flowers? You said I should pick everything myself.”

“We should talk about the wedding,” he says flatly, “because there won’t be one.”

“You mean…like, you’d prefer a more private ceremony? You want to elope, or do something intimate?” I ask, voice timid. “We could do a destination beach wedding, or skip all the fuss and just?—”

“No.” His tone is sharper. “I mean, it’s not happening at all. My political consultant said it’s…inadvisable for me to marry you right now. Or at all, if I want to pursue a real future in politics.”

At first, I just stare. My chest tightens, and my throat feels like I’m swallowing glass. “Brenna…shetold you we can’t get married? You’re not serious. You—you’re just stressed out or?—”

He glances away. “I’m sorry. I know this is sudden. But she laid it all out. She said, and I’m quoting here, ‘Anya is sweet and smart and fun, but you don’t marry the fatty if you want the White House.’”

I’m sure I didn’t hear that right. “What did you just say?”

He avoids my eyes. “Her words, not mine. You know how blunt she can be.”

I can’t even speak. Tears burn at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Something goes still inside of me.

My heart.

The words stick in my throat until I force them out. “Yourconsultantthinks I’m too…too fat to be your wife?”

Calvin rubs a hand over his face. “She said the optics wouldn’t be ideal. And, well, since my mother was a socialite with her own scandals, and my father had his own failed political ambitions, the entire family has always been under scrutiny. I need a wife who is perfect.”

I slowly push my chair back from the table. My appetite is gone. I doubt I’ll ever be hungry again. “You don’t even have the decency to say you disagree with her?”

He grimaces but doesn’t speak. That silence is worse than if he’d shouted.

I stand, legs shaking. “You proposed. You told me you loved me.”

“Anya,” he begins, but his voice wavers. “It’s not that I don’t care about you. It’s just…my priorities have changed. I need to think about my career.”

“I quit my job, Calvin. For you, remember? You said I didn’t need to work, that you wanted me free for your schedule, your events.” I press a palm to my forehead. “I have no savings left. I used it all to pay for wedding deposits that you dragged your feet on. And now you’re telling me to just…what? Leave?”

“I’ll give you some money, Anya. I’m not heartless. But you need to be out by the end of the month. That’s…that’s what we have to do.”

Tears blur my vision. I spin on my heel and leave the dining room. I can’t look at him, can’t speak. I climb the staircase, each footstep echoing like the hollow beat of my life falling apart, and lock myself in my bedroom—no,hisguest bedroom that he converted into a bedroom for me so I had a place to sleep on his late nights. That way, he wouldn’t disturb me when he crawled into bed after midnight.

Was this room just a way to keep me at a distance?

I collapse onto the bed, tears soaking into the baby-pink comforter. My chest heaves as I try to regulate my breathing, but heartbreak scrapes through every cell of my body. He used to call me “beautiful,” used to brag about how he loved my curves.

Lies. Every time he said it.

I cry for I don’t know how long, but my head aches. If the wedding’s off, if he’s throwing me away like a piece of trash, then maybe I should just bail on him first.

And go where?

Go back to working as an office manager in some random firm? I was good at my job, but I hated it. There’s only so much sexual harassment a woman can take.

Move back to Castle Beach, and let my parents see how I failed so spectacularly in Boston? I just can’t. It’s one of those little towns everyone complains about their whole lives but never leaves. If you don’t do everything you can to escape it, you get sucked back in. I can’t let that be me.

Calvin was supposed to come down south with me for the Fourth of July. We were going to have a big family meet and greet.I’ve met his relatives—I send cards to them on their birthdays, I handle family weekend plans…