Golden Boy Blew Our 13 Years? Joke's On Him, I Bagged A Tycoon!

Chapter 1

After college started, I dumped my childhood sweetheart Marcus Blackthorne.

He just smirked. "What, just because I picked HER up for orientation instead of you?"

"Yep."

He laughed again, all patronizing and smug.

"Okay babe, so how many days are we 'broken up' this time?"

Before I could answer, his precious little scholarship princess called.

"Don't worry, I'm coming."

Watching him sprint off like a lovesick puppy, I choked back the words burning in my throat: "FOREVER."

Ten years of chasing this asshole. But I was DONE playing his game.

Time for some people to get what they deserved!

---

I went back to my dorm alone, staring at the major transfer form on my desk.

Thinking back to orientation day two days ago.

Marcus had promised to pick me up at the train station.

I waited for hours at that unfamiliar station, missing bus after bus to campus, until I finally got his text:

[Joy, something came up. Can't make it. Just take a cab to campus for orientation.]

I instinctively made excuses for him—maybe he really was busy.

But when I finally dragged my luggage and the gifts I'd bought him to the dorm building, sweating like crazy...

I saw him helping another girl move her stuff. She was on her tiptoes, wiping sweat from his forehead with a smile.

"Marcus, you're such a sweetheart~ Picking me up, helping with orientation, carrying my bags... I don't know how to thank you."

I laughed bitterly. "Why don't you just marry him?"

The girl's face turned red as she hid behind Marcus.

Marcus looked thrilled and headed straight for me.

"Joy! You made it!"

"Look at my brave girl, handling orientation all by herself."

He reached out to pinch my cheek with that adoring expression.

I slapped his hand away. "So you didn't pick me up because you were busy with HER stuff?"

He tapped my nose, looking exasperated. "Jealous again?"

With that "what am I gonna do with you" look, he pulled me over to the girl:

"This is Chelsea Morrison, the scholarship student I mentioned. She doesn't know anyone here, so I'm helping her out. Come on, say hi."

Chelsea said timidly, "You must be Joy! Hi, Marcus told me about you."

I knew who she was.

Marcus brought her up every time we talked on the phone.

We'd fought about her countless times.

All my hurt turned to rage:

"We're not friends, so don't act like we are! Stop being so fake." I said coldly.

Chelsea's eyes instantly filled with tears as she bit her lip.

Marcus immediately grabbed my wrist, his voice stern.

"Joy! What the hell? Apologize. NOW."

I yanked my hand free with a cold laugh. "Apologize? Not happening!"

I ran toward the dorm building.

But the tears I'd been holding back fell as soon as I started unpacking, dropping onto the gifts I'd bought for him.

My roommates were chatting on the balcony, not noticing my breakdown.

"Damn, this freshman works fast—already hooked up with an upperclassman!"

"And look how far they've gotten already—they're practically all over each other!"

I froze, wiping my tears quickly before running to the balcony.

Seeing them hugging downstairs, I suddenly felt exhausted by this whole relationship.

Maybe it was time to end it.

During orientation, I asked my advisor about switching majors.

She gave me a transfer form—due in three days.

I waited stubbornly for Marcus to come apologize. If he did, I'd forgive him.

But he never came.

He was too busy taking care of Chelsea, treating her roommates to dinner, getting her ready for orientation week.

The campus forum was flooded with photos of them together—so perfect, so matched.

I suddenly remembered when we were kids and he'd hold my hand playing house, with passing neighbors teasing that I was his little bride.

Marcus would seriously correct them: "She's not my little bride—Joy's my WIFE!"

Everyone always said we were the perfect couple, meant to be.

Thirteen years of feelings made my chest ache for three whole days.

I could feel them slowly peeling away from my heart—from excruciating pain to numbness.

By the time I told Marcus we were breaking up, only a dull ache remained.

He was certain I was just throwing another tantrum.

Certain I could never leave him.

Because I'd compromised and second-guessed myself countless times to keep this relationship alive.

I'd even studied day and night, ignoring my parents' objections to major in pre-med, just because he'd said "I'll be waiting for you at Jefferson Medical School."

Looking at the campus forum photo of Marcus running with Chelsea in his arms, I firmly wrote "Request transfer to Business Management" on the form.

Chapter 2

That night, I went to dinner with my roommates.

They asked what I wanted to eat.

I had no appetite. "No peanuts. Everything else is fine."

Right after we ordered, I heard a guy's voice from the private room next door:

"Marcus, getting so close to that freshman—won't your childhood sweetheart get jealous again?"

I paused mid-sip, thinking maybe it was someone else with the same name.

Then I heard Marcus's casual laugh. "She's already jealous. Threatened to break up with me again."

"Dude, how many times is that now?"

Someone laughed mockingly. "What's it matter? His little childhood sweetheart's just a drama queen and a simp. She's always the one threatening to break up, and she's always the one begging to get back together. Only Marcus has the patience for that level of crazy."

"Then why not just dump her for real? I think Chelsea's sweet. Like a little bunny."

Marcus sounded resigned. "I'd love to, but it's a family arrangement. Gotta deal with it."

Those words hit me like a sledgehammer, waves of pain crashing over me.

He was lying.

Marcus's parents were busy doctors who'd asked my parents to look after him since elementary school.

We grew up together and were close, but my parents never wanted us to be together.

They thought Marcus would be too busy as a doctor to take care of me or our future family.

The idea of their precious daughter handling everything alone made them furious.

Coming back to reality amid my roommates' chatter, I caught them mouthing "scumbag."

They were quietly mocking how pathetic and stupid the "childhood sweetheart" was.

I lowered my eyes to hide the confusion and tears.

"Excuse me, here's your food."

Chelsea appeared in a server's uniform, freezing when she saw me.

I pretended not to notice, forcing a smile. "Food's here! Let's eat."

When I didn't acknowledge her, she bit her lip and left.

The dishes kept coming. Lost in thought, I mindlessly ate what was in front of me.

Until a roommate shouted, "Wait, something's wrong! This dish has peanuts in it—who ordered this?"

My throat muscles suddenly contracted and swelled. The suffocating sensation hit me as I gasped for air.

My roommates noticed my symptoms and panicked.

"What's wrong?!"

I managed to rasp out, "Aller...gic...pea...nuts...hos...pital..."

They frantically tried to help me to the hospital.

Chelsea suddenly burst in, blocking our way. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I brought the wrong dish!"

"GET OUT OF THE WAY! We need to get to the hospital!"

Chelsea bit her lip, looking conflicted. "You can't leave—you ate that dish and haven't paid yet."

My roommate snapped back, "YOU brought the wrong dish and made our friend sick, and you want US to pay? Dream on!"

Chelsea's eyes immediately filled with tears. "I'm just a broke scholarship student working part-time. You guys obviously have money to eat out—you can afford this bill. Please don't make this hard for me."

"If you skip out, they'll dock my pay."

Hearing this made me even more breathless with rage.

I tugged my roommate's sleeve, trying to get her to take me away, but couldn't speak.

Chelsea kept blocking us for money, but the second Marcus appeared from next door, her tears started flowing.

"Marcus..."

Marcus pulled her behind him protectively. "It's okay, I've got this."

I looked up at him, my swollen throat only managing a whisper: "Mar..."

Marcus immediately noticed something was wrong and moved toward me, but Chelsea grabbed his arm.

"Marcus, Joy's still mad at me. I mixed up the order and now she's faking an allergic reaction to make me pay."

She sobbed quietly. "I know I messed up, but I'm already out of money for this month."

Marcus glanced at the dishes in our room—no peanuts visible—and immediately believed Chelsea.

He sighed in frustration. "Joy, you're the one who wanted to break up. Why are you taking it out on Chelsea now? Just pay the bill."

My roommates suddenly realized I was the "pathetic scumbag's childhood sweetheart" they'd been mocking.

Embarrassed, they let go of me.

They started doubting whether I was faking the allergy for attention.

Everyone turned against me.

I tried to explain but only made choking sounds.

Trembling, I pulled cash from my pocket, threw it on the floor, and stumbled toward the exit.

Someone behind me asked, "She actually looks really sick..."

"Just embarrassed about getting caught lying," Marcus said angrily. "Time she learned a lesson."

My heart filled with sharp, stabbing pain. I bit my lip hard to keep from crying.

With my oxygen-deprived brain, I remembered my first allergic reaction—

None of the adults were home that day. Marcus was over playing and gave me a peanut candy.

I had an instant reaction. He cried while carrying me to the hospital on his back—I still remember how warm and safe that felt.

After that, he was always so careful.

He'd ask about peanuts in everything I ate.

He even followed his parents' wishes and went pre-med, hoping to protect me better.

But everything changed after he started sponsoring Chelsea.

Darkness swept over me, taking away the chest pain.

The last thing I remembered was falling into arms that smelled like winter pine.

Chapter 3

I spent a day in the hospital, then checked out to prepare for the welcome party performance.

But when I got back to the dorm, my roommates were cold and sarcastic, convinced I'd faked the allergy to cause trouble.

I slapped my hospital records down in front of them.

When they saw "severe anaphylactic shock," their eyes went wide and they couldn't say a word.

I ignored them after that.

The professor said after the welcome party, I'd transfer to the business campus and get a new dorm.

Word was the business dean would attend, and making a good impression might get me into the honors program.

So I spent my days doing orientation activities and my nights practicing piano in the music room.

Marcus kept texting me, but I blocked him without reading them.

The day before the welcome party, I went to pick up a package and ran into him again.

He was holding my delivery.

I held out my hand. "Give it."

He held the package up high with that cocky grin.

"Still mad, huh? Want it? Add me back on Instagram and I'll give it to you."

The package was the performance dress Dad had sent.

I stared at Marcus's smirk. He clearly had no idea I'd nearly died a few days ago.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled out my phone to call his dad.

He immediately grabbed my phone away.

I tried to get it back.

But he held my phone up high, tapped on it a few times, and said:

"Baby, don't be mad. My advisor wants me to help in the lab over break—I'll be gone for over two weeks."

"Two weeks without talking... I can't handle that. Can you?"

I snapped, "Go wherever you want! It's none of my business—we're BROKEN UP!"

Marcus gave me that exasperated smile and pulled me into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

"Silly girl, how many times do I have to say I love you before you believe me?"

His sweet words made me sick.

How could he juggle two girls, constantly choose her over me, and still claim to love me?

I broke free and ran off, forgetting about the dress.

I texted him later:

[That package has my performance dress. Bring it to me NOW—I need it for the welcome party!]

He took forever to reply:

[Too late today. I'll bring it tomorrow. Good night, baby girl.]

When I kept texting, he went silent.

I was frustrated but figured I'd wait until tomorrow.

But the next day when I asked again:

[Joy, I'm swamped today. I'll bring it to you at the party tonight.]

I tried to breathe through my irritation.

"Marcus, tonight's performance is really important to me! You HAVE to bring the dress early!"

As showtime approached, I called him over and over backstage.

Then I heard the announcer: "Please welcome freshman Chelsea Morrison and senior Marcus Blackthorne for their piano duet of 'Unheard Melodies.'"

"Hello, the number you have dialed is not available..."

I pushed aside the curtain and saw Chelsea wearing the dress my mother had made me, sitting under the stage lights with Marcus, playing together.

I heard people saying, "That freshman's dress is gorgeous—they look so perfect together!"

"Right? Did you see that look they shared? OMG, so sweet!"

"I heard the senior agreed to perform just to support her."

My hands clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms.

"Unheard Melodies" was Marcus's favorite anime theme song, and the first piece we'd ever played together.

He used to say, "You're my leading lady, Joy. I'll never lose my leading lady!"

But his leading lady was done with him.