Westward the Moon

I spent ten years climbing from the bottom with my boyfriend—from a nobody to an unchallenged boss ruling both sides of the border. But then he handed me a wedding plan and told me to follow it, arranging a grand ceremony for him and his white moonlight. In that moment, I finally understood: all those times he used me as a prop to intimidate his subordinates—he was simply sick of me. And when he let his white moonlight torment me however she pleased, it wasn't weakness—it was because he didn't want to stoop to forcing me out himself. So on the day of their wedding, I boarded a cruise ship heading home. After everything, I swore I would never give that cold, heartless man another chance to hurt me.