I Was Never His First Choice—But I Won Novel by Luna Ashcroft _ Novel





I Was Never His First Choice—But I Won Chapter 01

Clementine Stanhope knows she’s not the one Damian Pattison really wants. He’s using her to make his crush jealous. But Clementine has a plan of her own. She’s poor, ambitious, and ready to climb her way to the top—even if it means playing the sweet, innocent girlfriend.
Damian is rich, handsome, and used to getting everything he wants. But he never expected the quiet girl from the convenience store to be so clever, so captivating… so dangerous. What starts as a fake relationship soon becomes a battle of wits and wills.
In a world of luxury, betrayal, and hidden agendas, Clementine will prove that she’s not just a pawn—she’s the queen. And everyone knows: queens don’t just play the game. They win it.
Chapter 1
Damian Pattison was locked in a petty feud with Callista Whitlock, his so-called romantic interest.
And to prove a point, he asked me, the underprivileged student, to be his girlfriend.
I said yes.
Callista looked at me with pity and advised, “If you’re smart, make hay while the sun shines. Get him to buy you a few bags as compensation.”
I didn’t care.
Whether he loved me or not didn’t matter.
What mattered was that Damian was rich and handsome. So, at the end of the day, I was the one who truly won.
Later, Callista crashed our wedding, dressed in a wedding gown.
With tears in her eyes, she begged Damian to come with her.
“I was selfish before and didn’t appreciate what I had. But there’s still time to make things right.”
On the altar, Damian remained unfazed as he instructed the guards to throw her out.
Then, he turned to me and apologized, “I’m sorry. I had no idea she would try to ruin our big day. I promise it won’t happen again.”
See? Even the fiercest beast could be tamed.
***
I knew all along that Damian asked me out to get back at Callista.
That night, I was on a temporary night shift at the convenience store near my school.
At this hour, the streets were empty, with only flickering streetlamps and fluttering moths for company.
Suddenly, a heated argument cut through the stillness of the night, echoing all the way into the store.
Gone was my drowsiness, and out of sheer boredom, I pricked up my ears to listen.
The mention of my name caught me quite off guard.
Lifting my head, I saw an attractive pair standing at the door.
They looked strangely familiar. Then it hit me.
They were Damian and Callista, the school’s golden couple, featured constantly on the school tabloid.
Damian’s handsome face twisted with anger, his hypnotizing eyes shadowed by sadness and disappointment.
“So, you want me to be with someone else?”
Callista crossed her arms, her pretty face unreadable.
“Clementine Stanhope is the star at the University of Chicago, the top-three student in her major. She’s beautiful, smart, and ambitious. What, would being with her be such a loss for you?”
I stroked my chin, agreeing with the first half of her compliment. After all, she was talking about me.
Damian teared up, his voice quivering. “Callista, you know very well that—”
Callista shut her eyes and covered her ears, refusing to hear his explanation.
I figured out what he was trying to say: he really liked her. After growing up together, it made perfect sense that Damian had fallen for Callista.
Damian couldn’t hide his dismay. “Fine. Then I’ll do exactly what you want.”
Callista left, and Damian stood there, lonely and dejected.
Moments later, he walked into the store, strolling aimlessly.
I was glad that I had a mask on. He couldn’t see my face, or it would be so awkward.
In the end, Damian picked a can of beer and a sandwich and sat quietly by the window.
While pretending to restock shelves, I stole glances at him.
Long lashes trembling. Nose slightly red. His side profile looked like it might shatter at any second.
I muttered in my head, “I, the innocent bystander, hadn’t even commented. What exactly were you breaking down for?”
Knowing a confession was about to come my way, I narrowed my eyes and started calculating.
Damian was dressed head to toe in luxury brands, his style impeccable.
Standing there, he looked like the very definition of a cold, refined heir—eye-catching without even trying.
Back in freshman year, I’d already heard the rumors.
A rich second-generation heir. Low-key. Well-mannered. Good grades. Active in clubs.
Even now, his posture was straight, his emotions controlled. No shouting. No smashing things. No swearing.
Just quiet restraint.
A privileged background, good upbringing, good looks.
All things considered—
He wasn’t a bad deal.
So I tapped my fingers lightly against the calculator.
Being invited into this game?
No matter how I looked at it—
I was the one coming out ahead.

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