The Doormat Fiancé Has Left the Building

My name is Logan. In our social circle, I’m known as the ultimate doormat. For five years, I held the empty title of Chloe Montgomery’s fiancé.

I never pushed for marriage, never demanded we sign papers, and never restricted her freedom. All I asked was that Chloe donate her bone marrow to save my mother.

When she cheated on me with an Oscarwinning actor, I was the one who cleared her name to the press.

When she was caught kissing a teenage pop idol, I bought the rights to the footage to keep it offline.

When she drove a rising influencer’s pregnant fiancée to a miscarriage, I even stepped in to clean up the mess.

The wealthy socialites in Chloe's circle openly mocked me with pity and disgust. "Logan, you’re literally living like her lapdog." I ignored them all.

But on the very night my mother passed away, the Montgomery Group faced a sudden, massive financial crisis.

I sold my dad’s only legacy—his vintage Rolex—to help Chloe's company survive. In return, Chloe finally decided to grant me some official status.

She casually tossed a velvet ring box at my feet. "Find some time. Let's get married.

Consider it my way of saying thank you." I looked at the ring on the floor but didn’t pick it up. "No need. It was just to pay off my debt to you.

Chloe, let's break up." Hearing my words, Chloe actually looked up from her paperwork.

She looked at me directly, a rare occurrence. "The doctor told me your mother’s condition has finally stabilized. She can get the bone marrow transplant soon.

If you break up with me now, are you saying you don't want to save your mother's life?" I didn't answer. I only squeezed the paper in my hand a little tighter.

Under the bright red official seal was my mother’s death certificate. "Did you tell Tristan which hospital room my mom was in?" I asked.

Chloe let out a soft, knowing laugh. "And here I was wondering why you were throwing a tantrum about breaking up. So it's about that." "Yes.

Tristan heard your mom was sick and wanted to pay his respects." "Looking at your reaction, he probably said something stupid. He’s young and spoiled.

Tell you what—I’ll personally go apologize to your mother in a couple of days.

You—" Before she could finish, I threw a tabloid magazine onto her desk. 【Montgomery CEO’s New Toy Dumps Pregnant Fiancée; CastOff Lover Degrades Himself to Act as Nanny!】 The attached photo showed me helping Tristan’s exfiancée out of the hospital.

The tabloid gossip was brutal.

It claimed that Tristan’s ex had a miscarriage, and that I—Chloe’s official boyfriend—had degraded myself to serve Tristan’s ex like a dog just to keep the peace so Chloe and Tristan could openly enjoy their romance.

Tristan had taken that exact magazine straight to my mother’s hospital bed. My mother had been a high school literature teacher her entire life.

She lived and breathed on her dignity. And I had completely crushed that dignity. She refused to continue her treatments. She simply lost the will to live.

The red light of the emergency room flashed all night. When they finally rolled her out, a white sheet was pulled over her head.

I pushed the death certificate closer to Chloe. "Chloe, I need an explanation." Chloe lost her patience. She didn't even look at the paper.

She frowned, looking irritated by what she clearly saw as my ungratefulness. "An explanation? Logan, have you forgotten your place?" "We aren't even married yet.

And even if we were, you don't get to control my life. But since you helped me out with the company, I'll be nice. Pick up the ring.

Once things settle down at the office, I'll go with you to explain everything to your mother." "As for Tristan, I'll handle him.

I'm very busy right now, so please go home." With that, Chloe lowered her head and went back to her files. Her coldness was suffocating.

My hand, still holding the death certificate, trembled in midair. I let out a bitter laugh, remembering my mother's final words. She had been furious.

With the last of her strength, she had slapped me across the face. Crying and raging, she had gasped, "Our family doesn't have a spineless son like you!

I’d rather die!" "I'd rather die than watch you act like a clown for people to laugh at!" "Logan, do you have no shame?!" Yeah. Logan, do you have no shame?

I pulled the death certificate back, turned around, and walked toward the door. "The ring," Chloe reminded me, not even looking up. I turned back to look at her.

She was bent over her desk, looking incredibly focused. I remembered when we first started dating. Chloe had looked at me with that same intense focus and said: “Your mom is my mom.

It’s just a million dollars a year in medical bills—I can easily afford it!” “We’ll do the transplant! To save our mom, I'd give my own bone marrow.

I'd give anything!” “Logan, I'm going to marry you. We’re going to be together forever.” ... Back then, her vows of eternal love were endless.

But in the end, love always turns out the same way. I withdrew my gaze, looked down at my feet, and saw the velvet box lying open.

The massive diamond caught the light, sparkling painfully bright. Kick. With a sharp flick of my shoe, I kicked the ring box aside and walked out without looking back.

I booked a oneway flight to London for three days later. After paying off the pawnshop, I still had a decent amount of money left from my dad's Rolex.

After buying a nice burial plot for my mother, it would be more than enough to start over abroad.

My studyabroad plans, which had been gathering dust for five years, were pulled out of my drawer. I brushed off the dust. On the cover was my mother's neat handwriting.

When my dad passed away, my mother used to comfort me by saying, “Life always moves forward, sweetheart.” Now that she was gone, I had to learn to comfort myself the way she did.

I didn't sleep at all that night. I didn't dare to. I was afraid of dreaming of my mother and seeing her angry with me.

But I was also afraid of not dreaming of her at all, which would mean she was still too disappointed to see me. So, I stayed up all night, packing up my life.

Around nine the next morning, the ground floor of the villa was incredibly noisy. I didn't want to get involved.

After all, this was Chloe's mansion, and I had an appointment with a cemetery coordinator at ten.

I finished packing and was about to wheel my suitcase downstairs when a clear, youthful male voice called out from behind me. "Oh, Logan! You packed so fast!" I turned around.

It was Tristan. His left hand was raised, and a familiar sparkle caught the light on his ring finger. His pretty face was smug as he showed it off. "Sorry about this.

Chloe proposed to me last night." "She said she wants to get married as soon as possible, so I rushed over to move in.

Some people couldn't even get into the Montgomery estate after five years of being a fiancé. But Chloe let me move in after only a few months.

I really need to cherish this!" "So, thanks for vacating the spot, Logan." I glanced at him, then looked away. I didn't say a word.

I genuinely despised Tristan, to the point where I didn't even want to offer him basic politeness. I silently grabbed my suitcase handle and started to walk past him.

But young boys are always impatient. My indifferent reaction didn't satisfy his vanity.

He stepped right in front of me, blocking my path. "Logan, is this ring pretty?" "It cost three million dollars!" "Even when Chloe's company was facing that massive financial crisis, she didn't sell it.

I really didn't expect her to love me this much." "When we get married, you absolutely have to come! I’ll put you at the VIP table!" I glanced at the ring on Tristan’s finger.

How ironic. It was the exact same ring I had kicked across the floor last night.

Honestly, I wanted to tell him that Chloe hadn't kept the ring because of "love." She hadn't sold it simply because large diamonds are incredibly hard to liquidate quickly.

To a woman like Chloe, love didn't actually matter. She said she loved me, but she only ever gave me the title of boyfriend.

She said she needed excitement, so she slept with influencers like Tristan. The only person Chloe ever truly loved was herself. "Sure.

Send me an invite when the time comes," I said coldly. My absolute indifference made Tristan look like a fool. He practically stomped his foot in frustration.

He reached out and grabbed my suitcase handle. "Wait! You think you can just walk out of here? How do I know you didn't steal Chloe's valuables? I'm going to be a Montgomery soon.

If you stole something, I’d be the one losing out!" "Open the suitcase. I need to check it!" I had no patience for his tantrum. I brushed his hand off and tried to walk away.

During our struggle, the front door opened. Chloe had actually come home. I was surprised. She was supposed to be in a board meeting at this hour.

Seeing us struggling, she instinctively stepped in front of Tristan, shielding him, and glared at me. "Are you picking a fight with Tristan?" Looking at her suspicious, defensive eyes, I felt utterly exhausted. "He wants to search my suitcase." Tristan tugged at Chloe’s sleeve, putting on a victim act. "Chloe, I just wanted to make sure Logan didn't steal any spare keys.

This is going to be our home soon.

I don't want some unwanted stranger showing up in the middle of the night." "Is my request really that unreasonable, Chloe?" His voice was dripping with sugary innocence.

Chloe couldn't resist his puppy eyes.

She turned her sharp gaze back to me. "Logan, open the suitcase." I frowned, letting out a humorless laugh. "Chloe, the mansion uses a biometric lock. You never even gave me a key.

I know you want to protect your little fiancé, but try to use some common sense." "Consider this the last bit of dignity you can leave me after our breakup." I didn't know which word triggered Chloe, but her face instantly darkened.

She called over the housekeeper and security, speaking in a tone that was halfwarning, halfthreat. "Just cooperate. I'm just trying to make Tristan happy.

How much is your dignity worth in front of me anyway?" "Open it yourself, or I'll have them do it for you."

I stared at her for a long moment. I didn't even feel angry anymore; I was just tired. I knelt down and unzipped my suitcase. There wasn't much inside.

Despite following Chloe around for five whole years, I was only leaving with a few changes of clothes. Tristan was determined to humiliate me. He didn't even bother to bend down.

He simply used the toe of his designer sneaker to kick my clothes around, scattering them all over the floor and stepping on them.

Only when my clothes were thoroughly ruined and dirtied did he look satisfied.

He wrapped his arm around Chloe’s waist, looking at me with pure disdain. "Alright, looks like there’s nothing. Now get out.

You're an eyesore." "Chloe didn't sleep at all last night because of the company. We need to rest!" I looked at the mess on the floor.

Most of my clothes were torn or covered in dirt, completely unwearable. My suitcase was ruined too. There was no point in packing them again. I looked at the housekeeper, Mrs.

Gable. "I won't be needing these anymore. Could you please have someone throw them out?" She looked at me with deep sympathy and nodded.

Just as I reached the front door, Chloe suddenly called out. "Logan!" I paused, but I didn't turn around. "Apologize to me for kicking the ring, and I'll make Tristan move out." "Otherwise, if you walk out that door today, I swear I'll cut off your mother's hospital funds tomorrow.

And the bone marrow? I won't donate it!" My mother's death certificate was sitting in my jacket pocket. Chloe's threats sounded like a sick joke. I turned around to face her.

She was leaning over the secondfloor railing, her face flushed with anger. I didn't understand why she was so angry.

She looked like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum because even though she got exactly what she wanted, she still wanted to hurt me. "You're disgusting," I whispered.

Chloe’s eyes widened. She looked as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard, and even more shocked by the absolute disgust in my eyes.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as a wave of panic washed over her. Beside her, Tristan was still trying to soothe her. "Logan is way too much!

How could he talk to you like that? Chloe, you look so pale. Are you okay? Let me help you back to the bedroom..." An intense, inexplicable irritation flared up inside Chloe.

Looking at Tristan's pretty, eager face, she let him lead her into the master bedroom.

But right before their lips met, Chloe closed her eyes, only to see the image of my straight, unyielding back walking out of her house without a single regret.

And the look of absolute disgust on my face when I called her disgusting.

Chloe snapped her eyes open and pushed Tristan away. "Go rest by yourself," she said coldly. "I have things to do." She took two steps, then turned back to look at Tristan, whose face was full of confusion. "Actually, pack your things and leave." "This house doesn't suit you." She rushed downstairs.

She didn't care that Tristan was screaming and smashing things in the master bedroom. She grabbed her car keys and headed straight for the garage.

As she passed the foyer, she saw Mrs. Gable holding the bag of ruined clothes, about to throw them out. Chloe stopped in her tracks. "Keep them," she ordered. Mrs.

Gable nodded, her face blank. Chloe hesitated, then asked, "I've brought people home before. Logan has a good temper. He should be fine in a couple of days, right?" Mrs.

Gable looked up, the confusion in her eyes genuine. Chloe looked away, not waiting for an answer, and slammed her foot on the gas.

She spoke aloud, as if trying to convince herself: "I'm just mad that he wanted to break up.

I know he loves me." "His mother is still in the hospital, and his dad's watch is still at the pawnshop. He can't just abandon everything." "I just need to coax him a little.

He'll come back..."

It was hard to get an Uber in the wealthy gated community. I walked slowly. The nearest bus stop was a thirtyminute walk away.

Fortunately, the cemetery coordinator drove down to pick me up. By the time Chloe drove along the road looking for me, I was already gone.

I sat in the cemetery office, flipping through the catalog. There were only a few premium plots left, so it wasn't a hard choice.

My mother had never been able to let go of my dad, so she had kept his urn at home all these years. Now, I could finally bury them together. I was afraid my mom was still mad at me.

But my dad had a great temper; whenever I made a mistake as a kid, he would always smile and plead with my mom for me.

I pressed my cheek against the cold ceramic urn, whispering to my dad: "You always spoiled me the most. Please visit me in my dreams.

And help me convince Mom not to be mad at me anymore." "Just let me see her in a dream.

I miss her so much." In that small grave lay the two people who used to bring me soup when I was sick. In the past, my parents would talk endlessly on the phone while I listened.

Now, I was the one talking outside the headstone while they slept in the cold earth. I shoveled the dirt in myself.

When the soil finally covered the urns, the emotional wall I had built up completely shattered. I collapsed onto my knees.

There was no warmth left to touch, only the freezing stone of the monument. I shivered from the cold. My tears fell like a sudden summer storm, pouring down as my heart broke.

My agonizing sobs echoed through the empty cemetery. It was dark by the time I staggered out of the gates. I didn't want to go home. Because I didn't have a home anymore.

With an early flight ahead of me, I went straight to the airport. Meanwhile, outside my old family apartment, Chloe was leaning against her car.

She watched the orange tip of her cigarette glow and fade in the dark. She had lost count of how many she had smoked. Since leaving the villa, I had vanished.

My phone was off, and my Snapchats went unread. She realized, with a sudden pang of dread, that I didn't really have any friends.

The only mutual contacts we shared on Instagram were the editors and PR managers who helped her cover up her scandals. It was deeply ironic.

Anxiety clawed at her chest, and she kept smoking to dull the pain. Chloe was slowly beginning to realize she had made a mistake.

She shouldn't have let Tristan take the ring off the floor. Even before that, she shouldn't have tossed the ring at my feet so casually. A proposal shouldn't have been like that.

It should have had flowers, fireworks, a bent knee, and a promise of forever.

With my reserved personality, I probably would have blushed, held out my hand, let her slide the ring on, and closed my eyes to kiss her. Chloe laughed softly at the thought.

A secret hope bloomed in her chest. She thought of my mother, Sarah, in the hospital. I was stubborn, but I was a devoted son. I would never abandon my mother.

Especially with the transplant coming up. I couldn't possibly disappear now.

Chloe stubbed out her cigarette, opened her car door, and drove toward the hospital as the morning sun began to rise.

At the airport, the PA system crackled to life: 【Attention all passengers, Flight BA226 to London is now boarding at Gate 2.】 Under the blue sky, the plane took off.

I sat in my seat and closed my eyes, ready to face a brandnew life. At the hospital, Chloe pushed open the door to the VIP suite, her smile freezing instantly.

The room was completely empty. There was no sign of life. Panic instantly gripped her. She rushed to the bed. The sheets were clean and freshly changed. The bathroom was empty.

The glass vase where I put fresh flowers every day was gone. Even the patient information card at the foot of the bed had been removed. Chloe felt dizzy with fear.

Forgetting all her pride, she ran down the hospital corridor, grabbing a passing nurse by the arm. "Where is the patient from VIP Room 3?

Was she transferred?" "Where did she go?!" The nurse looked at Chloe, thoroughly confused. "Ms. Montgomery, didn't Logan tell you?" "The patient passed away.

It happened two days ago."