Ex Wife to The Billionaire, Mother to His Twins Heir

AVA POV

The wine glass shook in my hand as I hid behind the wooden drink cart. My fancy shoes pressed into the soft rug. The pregnancy test felt hot against my palm, its plastic edges sharp on my skin. Three years. Three years of believing in fairy tales while living in hell.

"Marcus Moretti, seriously—when are you finally getting rid of Ava?" The voice cut through the soft jazz music coming from the other room. It was Derek, Marcus's friend from college. His voice was thick with whiskey and meanness.

"Did she really think someone like you would want someone like her?" This voice belonged to Jake, Marcus's best friend since they were kids. The same Jake who had tripped me in the hallway last week while Marcus just watched.

My throat felt tight. The night air suddenly felt too thin, too sharp in my chest. Marcus opened his mouth, and for one crazy moment, I thought he might stand up for me. Might tell them to stop.

My breath stopped. The Richard Mille watch I'd bought him for our anniversary suddenly felt worthless in my other hand.

"She'd probably pass out if she knew what we're really celebrating tonight," someone else laughed. "Poor thing thinks you're just having drinks with the boys."

"Sophia's plane gets in tomorrow." Marcus's voice sounded different now—lighter, almost excited. "One year in Milan was good for her. She's ready to start up where we left off."

Sophia. My sister. The perfect child who i had walked into their mixed family when I was five. She took everything I'd ever wanted without even trying—including, it seemed, my husband.

"But what about your little wife?" Derek asked with fake worry that made my stomach turn.

Marcus's laugh was sharp like broken glass. "Ava's useful. She handles the charity work, keeps me looking good to the public, and never asks hard questions. She's like having a perfectly trained helper who happens to sleep in my bed."

"She actually believes I love her," he laughed. "It's almost sweet how innocent she is. Like training a dog—a few nice words, some flowers, and she'll do anything I ask."

The words hit me like punches. My free hand pressed against my still-flat belly, protecting the life growing there from the ugly words spilling from the man I'd loved.

"She actually thinks you love her," another voice added. "It's almost sad."

"Desperate people believe what they need to survive," Marcus said, ice clinking in his glass. "Ava's been starving for love since her parents left her. I just... gave her enough to keep her hungry."

A sob escaped before I could stop it, echoing in the sudden quiet.

"What was that?"

Footsteps came closer. I pressed deeper into the shadows, my heart pounding against my ribs as expensive shoes clicked across the hard floor. When the sounds moved toward the balcony, I forced myself to move.

Standing up took everything I had. My legs felt like they weren't connected to my body as I dropped the watch and test into my purse. They felt light compared to the truth crushing my chest.

The fancy apartment we'd shared for two years felt like a tomb as I walked through it one last time. Wedding photos smiled mockingly from every surface—my happy face next to his perfectly fake expressions. Had I ever really known him at all?

I found myself on the building's rooftop garden. The city spread out below like scattered diamonds. The wind whipped my hair across my tear-wet cheeks as I stared into the darkness, feeling empty and weightless.

A small flutter in my belly stopped me cold.

"I can't," I whispered to the night sky, my hand protective over my womb. "I won't let his poison touch you."

I ran down the stairs, out of the mansion.

I found myself at the edge of the bridge near my home. The concrete felt cold under my bare feet. One more step and it would all be over.

I gripped the bridge railing until my knuckles went white, staring down at the black water that promised to swallow all my pain. The streetlights blurred through my tears—everything hurt. My chest. My heart. My soul.

"Mommy was such a fool," I whispered to the wind. "My poor, poor babies deserved so much better."

This was it. No more pretending I could fix what was already broken beyond repair.

I swung one leg over the railing. Then the other. The metal bit into my thighs as I sat on the edge of forever, my whole body shaking—not from the cold, but from the weight of giving up. The water called to me, dark and final and—

A hand shot out from nowhere, fingers wrapping around my wrist like a lifeline I didn't know I needed.

"Don't." The voice was rough, desperate. "Please don't."

Before I could understand what was happening, strong arms pulled me backward, away from the edge, away from the choice I couldn't take back. I fell against a solid chest, my legs giving out completely as sobs tore through me like breaking glass.

"I can't... I can't do this anymore," I choked out between gasps. "It hurts too much."

"I know." The voice was gentler now, holding me steady as the world spun. "But this isn't the answer. Trust me."

When my breathing finally slowed, when the shaking stopped long enough for me to think, I tried to turn around. To see the face of whoever had just saved my life. But the shadows were too thick, and he was already stepping back, already leaving.

"Wait!" My voice cracked. "Who are you?"

He paused at the edge of the streetlight's glow. For a heartbeat, I thought I caught a glimpse of his face—strong jaw, worried eyes—but then he melted back into the darkness.

"I'm No one," he called softly. "My name is No one."

And then he was gone. Like he'd never been there at all.

I stood alone on that bridge, my hand pressed against my stomach where tiny feet had started kicking—frantic, insistent, alive. The babies. God, the babies. What had I almost done?

The flutter under my palm felt different now. Not like a burden I couldn't bear, but like a promise I wasn't allowed to break. Dominic had pulled me back from the edge, but it was this—this fierce little heartbeat against my ribs—that would keep me from ever going there again.

Some strangers save your life in a single moment. Others leave you with questions that change everything.

Whoever he was, he had given me a second chance.

When I returned to our bedroom hours later, Marcus was waiting, his face carefully arranged to look like a worried husband.

"There you are! I was getting worried." He stood up from the chair, still wearing his celebration clothes. "How was book club?"

Book club. The lie I'd told to give him privacy for his "boys' night." How perfectly it fit his story.

"Eye-opening," I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.

His eyes narrowed slightly at my tone, but his smile never changed. "Sophia called. She wants to have lunch tomorrow—just you two. Isn't that sweet? She's really trying to fix things between you."

I studied his face, searching for any crack in the act. Finding none was somehow worse than discovering his betrayal.

"Of course she is," I said quietly.

He moved closer, hands reaching for my shoulders. I didn't pull away—couldn't afford to, not yet. His touch felt like ice water on my skin.

"I know she hurt you when we were younger, but people change, Ava. She's family now. We're all family."

Family. The word tasted bitter in my mouth.

"Yes," I agreed, meeting his eyes with new understanding. "We are."

Something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe, at my sudden agreement. But it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

As he pulled me into his arms that night, I lay stiff against his chest, planning. My children deserved better than a father who saw love as weakness and a mother as a tool.

They deserved truth. And I would give it to them, even if it meant tearing down everything I'd built on lies.