I’m Not Your Problem Anymore Novel by Bev Wong _ Novel




I’m Not Your Problem Anymore Chapter 01

Adrian Waverly—the heir to one of New York’s oldest fortunes—blew up our engagement in public over some young model.
My dad was furious. He pulled strings and got her blacklisted across the industry.
On my birthday, my car was tampered with. I ended up stranded in a sketchy red-light district.
I barely remember what happened after that.
Just flashes—guys dragging me into an alley… forcing something down my throat… taking photos… videos.
The next day, Adrian used it as his excuse to officially call off the wedding.
Then he moved that model straight into the Waverly mansion—made sure everyone knew.
Malcolm Ashbury, my childhood friend and heir to the Ashbury family, said the scandal didn’t matter.
He offered to marry me.
Said it would protect my reputation.
The day we were supposed to sign the papers, I was waiting outside the lounge when I overheard two secretaries talking.
“Ms. Remington’s life is basically over,” one said. “Her reputation’s ruined. Now she has to depend on Mr. Ashbury to clean up her mess.”
“You don’t even know the half of it,” the other replied. “Mr. Waverly set the whole thing up. He had her ruined on purpose so he could marry that influencer—Eleanor Bradford. He even sent the guys who did it to Mexico so no one could trace it back.”
“And Mr. Ashbury doesn’t even love her,” she added. “He’s just scared she’ll go after Eleanor with her family’s money. Marrying her is the easiest way to keep her under control.”
That’s when it hit me.
Both of them… were in love with Eleanor.
I couldn’t breathe.
Still wearing the white couture dress I’d picked for my wedding, I turned and ran.
I got in my car and drove straight downtown—to the Doctors Without Borders office.
I walked in, put my application on the director’s desk.
My eyes were red from crying, but my voice was steady.
“I want to join the medical team in Libya,” I said. “I’ll sign whatever waiver you need. If I die out there, I understand my body might never come back.”
The director skimmed my resume.
His expression shifted—from concern to shock… then to hope.
“Dr. Remington,” he said, “Libya is in the middle of an armed conflict and a major disease outbreak. Conditions are extremely dangerous. Most doctors can’t handle it.”
He paused.
“The militia groups out there are violent. If you go, there’s a real chance you won’t make it back.”
I closed my eyes for a second.
Fear washed over me—but I didn’t let it show.
“I’ll take the spot of the colleague who had to step down,” I said. “I’m not changing my mind. I just want to treat patients. That’s my job.”
He glanced at my dress and sighed.
“I thought you were getting married today,” he said. “What changed?”
Tears slipped down my face.
I wiped them away quickly.
“I’m fine,” I said.
He didn’t push.
He approved my application on the spot.
The organization clearly needed surgeons willing to go into a warzone.
“We have a flight leaving tomorrow morning,” he said. “If you make it back, we’ll nominate you for the highest medical honors. Your father’s hospital will also receive international funding.”
I nodded.
Then I walked out, feeling completely numb.
The white supercar I’d parked outside was gone.
I was about to call a cab when Adrian pulled up in it.
He revved the engine before stopping right in front of me.
The window rolled down.
His eyes were cold. A cigarette burned between his fingers.
“Ellie likes this car,” he said. “I was going to have someone pick it up anyway. Might as well take it now.”
My chest tightened as I looked at his hands on the wheel.
He bought me that car for my birthday.
Ten million dollars. A one-of-a-kind model.
The license plate even had my birthday on it.
Five years ago, he taught me how to drive it.
Told me I was the only one in the world who deserved it.
Now he was taking it back.
For her.
I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
Then I turned and walked away.
The engine roared behind me.
“What are you doing out here?” he called. “It’s your wedding day.”
“Get in. I’ll take you back. Malcolm’s waiting to sign the papers. What, you’re not worried he’ll call it off if you’re late?”
I shook my head.
“I’m not marrying him.”
Adrian exhaled a stream of smoke.
“Look, I know you’re still upset,” he said. “You’re not over me. You don’t actually want to marry Malcolm.”
He gave a short laugh.
“You just came out here to get my attention.”
His voice turned colder.
“But after what happened to you… there’s no way I’d take you back.”
“Don’t worry,” he added. “I dealt with the guys who attacked you. You got your justice.”
He flicked ash out the window.
“Malcolm’s willing to marry you anyway. You should be grateful.”
I looked at him.
Still handsome.
Still the same face I used to love.
But completely rotten underneath.
This wasn’t luck.
It was a setup.
Eleanor worked nights entertaining clients at a club.
And yet, to him, she was perfect.
I had so much I wanted to say.
But nothing came out.
Just one word.
“Leave.”
That set him off.
He slammed the door open, stormed over, and grabbed my wrist, trying to shove me into the car.
“Clarissa, we’re done,” he snapped. “Stop acting crazy and move on.”
“Malcolm’s a good guy. Don’t ruin this for yourself.”
He drove like a maniac all the way back to the Remington mansion.
The second we got there, he shoved me out and sped off.
My dad was pacing at the front door.
The moment he saw me, his face darkened.
“Where have you been?” he snapped. “The Ashburys are waiting. You weren’t answering your phone—I was worried sick!”
I took a deep breath.
Then I told him everything.
About Libya.
About the application.
---
He staggered slightly, like the ground had shifted under him.
“No,” he said firmly. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
“You’d be putting your life in danger.”
“I won’t allow it.”

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