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Maya’s POV
“She is two months pregnant.”
“I can’t believe it,” Mason’s voice carried through the cracked boardroom door, low and reverent, the way he used to speak to me only in our earliest days before the miscarriages, before the silence grew between us like frost on glass.
“Two months?”
My fingers tightened on the door handle until my knuckles bleached white. I’d come to drop off the revised merger documents myself instead of sending my assistant. A small gesture. A wife’s gesture. Now I couldn’t move
Dr. Hargrove answered, calm and clinical as always. “Yes, Mr. Mason. The hCG levels and ultrasound are conclusive. She’s eight weeks pregnant.”
A soft exhale, almost a laugh slipped from Selina.
My Selina. My best friend since college, the one who’d held my hair back while I vomited through fertility drugs, who’d brought lavender candles to the hospital after each D&C, who’d whispered “next time” like a prayer every time my body failed me again.
Silence stretched, thick and intimate
Then the unmistakable sound: lips against skin. Slow. Tender. Celebratory.
My knees nearly buckled.
I slid sideways, pressing my back to the marble wall beside the double doors, hidden by the tall fiddle-leaf fig that Mason insisted on keeping in every executive space because “it looks expensive.” My silk blouse stuck to my spine with sudden sweat.
“How do you feel, love?” Mason asked her, his voice dropping to that velvet register he reserved for boardroom victories and bedroom promises he no longer kept with me.
“Terrified,” Selina admitted, a tremor beneath her usual confidence. “But happy. So happy. We’ve waited so long for this”
Waited….
The word sliced clean through me.
Mason My husband has been having an affair with my bestfriend….
Mason chuckled softly, indulgent, the sound I hadn’t heard directed at me in years. “Every time she lost one, I told myself maybe we weren’t meant to have children together. But you…” His voice lowered further, almost worshipful. “You were always the one”
I clamped my hand over my mouth so hard my teeth bit into my palm.
Almost Eight years.
Eight years of basal body thermometers at 5 a.m., of scheduled sex that felt like clinical appointments, of negative pregnancy tests that landed like verdicts. Eight years of watching his jaw tighten with every doctor’s “I’m sorry.” Eight years of believing, if I just tried harder, sacrificed more, loved deeper…. he would finally look at me the way he once promised he would
And through every loss, Selina had been my rock
She’d sat with me on cold bathroom tiles at 3 a.m., rubbing my back while I sobbed that my body hated me. She’d fielded calls from nosy relatives so I wouldn’t have to explain another failure. She’d told me Mason adored me, that men just didn’t know how to show it when they were hurting too…
Lies.
All of it
I remembered the night I introduced them, my twenty-third birthday, rooftop bar overlooking the harbor. Selina had arrived in a crimson dress that clung like sin, hair tumbling loose, skin glowing under the string lights. Mason’s gaze had snagged on her and stayed. I’d laughed, looped my arm through hers, said, “Isn’t she stunning?” like a fool proud of her beautiful friend.
He’d never denied it
Not once.
Our marriage had never been about romance. Our fathers…. best friends since boarding school, had engineered it when both family empires teetered on collapse. Mason’s shipping conglomerate needed my father’s logistics network and capital. My father needed Mason’s ruthless expansion strategy to survive. Together they became untouchable
I became the bride in white lace who smiled for the cameras and signed the prenup without complaint.
I told myself convenience could grow into love. That if I poured enough of myself into the company, learning the routes, memorizing the ledgers, charming the Chinese investors at 2 a.m. conference calls…..he would see my devotion and choose me anyway.
He never did.
He looked at me with polite tolerance at best, quiet disdain at worst.
And all the while, he looked at her.
Then thr boardroom door opened
I shrank deeper into the shadow of the plant, heart slamming against my ribs.
“I’ll walk you down,” Mason said. “We have to be discreet. No one can know yet.”
“Of course.” Selina’s voice was soft, conspiratorial.
The word landed like a guillotine.
Their footsteps approached, his measured, commanding; hers lighter, confident. They passed within arm’s reach. I smelled her jasmine perfume tangled with his cedar-and-bergamot cologne, the same scent that used to cling to his shirts when he came home after “late meetings.”
They didn’t glance my way….
Why would they? I’d spent years making myself small enough to disappear.
As their voices faded toward the private elevator, I stayed frozen, breath shallow.
My phone vibrated, my assistant, probably wondering why I hadn’t appeared for the branding presentation. I ignored it.
Tears burned tracks down my cheeks, but I didn’t sob. Not here. Not where someone might hear or see me.
I waited until the corridor was silent, then slipped away, tiptoeing like a thief in my own husband’s empire.
The service elevator carried me to the underground garage. No one used it except the maintenance staff. No cameras. No witnesses.
In the dim fluorescent light, I leaned against the cold concrete wall and finally let the sobs come out ugly, wrenching, soundless gasps that shook my whole body.
Almost eight years of loyalty to a marriage not built on love but hope.
Ten years of friendship to Selina.
Both of them thrown away like yesterday’s financials.
I thought of the pale-yellow nursery I’d painted in secret after our second pregnancy, the crib still boxed in storage because I’d been too afraid to assemble it after the third loss.
I thought of every time Selina hugged me and promised, “You’ll have your miracle”
She’d been planning her own, to snatch my husband…
The elevator dinged at the garage level. I stepped out, heels echoing in the empty space.
I needed silence. I needed air. I needed to think.
Because this wasn’t the end of my story.
This was the moment their fairy tale cracked open.
Maya's POVThe candlestick was heavy.Good. I wanted heavy. I wanted something solid in my hands that would make a satisfying sound against a skull if it came to that Mason's, a lawyer's, a journalist's, whoever was standing on the other side of that door at whatever time this was in the afternoon.I crossed the sitting room in my socks, stepped over the legal pad on the floor, and pressed my eye to the peephole.Then I stopped breathing entirely....Ten years will change a person. Fill them out. Settle something behind the eyes that wasn't there before. Add a few lines to the jaw, a little more certainty to the way they hold their shoulders.But grey-green eyes are grey-green eyes. I would have known them through frosted glass at fifty paces.Alexander Voss.Standing in the third-floor corridor of my dead parents apartment building in a tailored navy coat that probably cost more than the entire annual maintenance fee of the b
Maya's POVI started at seven. Coffee first, strong, no milk, the way my father had always made it, the way I'd only ever allowed myself at weekends because Mason preferred the penthouse machine set to something weaker and more palatable for entertaining. Small rebellions I hadn't even recognized as rebellions until now.I carried the mug to the study, sat in his chair, and opened the folder.The trust was elegant. I say that with the full appreciation of someone who'd spent eight years reading corporate structures for a living, whoever my father had hired to build it knew exactly what they were doing.The foundation: a blind trust vehicle, registered in a jurisdiction with strong beneficiary privacy protections, established four years ago under a holding name with no visible connection to either family. The shares, forty-nine percent of Mason Empire's total issued stock had been transferred into the trust via a private instrument that
Mason's POVThe hallway emptied fast.People are good at that sensing when a man wants to be left alone, or more precisely, sensing when a man might do something unpredictable if they stay. My staff had developed a particular talent for it over the years. Within ninety seconds of the elevator doors closing on Maya, the executive floor had quietly rearranged itself back into the performance of a normal afternoon. Keyboards. Phone calls. The deliberate sound of people working very hard at not looking at me.I stood exactly where I was….Her rings were still on the floor.Two small things. Platinum and diamond, custom-designed, obscenely expensive. I'd handed them to her in a church full of people who were really there to celebrate a merger and called it a wedding. She'd worn them every day for eight years without complaint.She hadn't thrown them. Hadn't pressed them into my hand with shaking fingers or hurled them at my head, which, frankly, I'd half expe
Maya's POVThe city didn't care.That was the first thing I noticed as I pulled out of the Mason Empire underground garage for the last time, the traffic moved, the lights changed, a food delivery cyclist nearly clipped my front bumper and swore at me through the windscreen. The world had not paused. No one on the pavement looked up to mark the moment a woman drove away from eight years with nothing but a leather tote and a cardboard box sliding around in the back seat.I turned left at the first intersection. Away from the penthouse. Away from the harbor views and the silent, perfect rooms that had never once felt like mine.I drove without deciding where I was going until I realized I already knew.The old quarter hadn't changed much. Narrower streets, older buildings, window boxes with half-dead geraniums that somehow kept surviving. My mother's apartment building had a new intercom panel, but the same cracked tile in the lobby that I'd avoided stepping on since I was seven. Some s
Maya’s POVThe air in Mason’s office thickened the second I turned back toward the door. Selina moved first quick, theatrical reaching out as if to grab my arm in some mockery of concern.“Maya, wait……”Her fingers brushed my sleeve.I reacted on instinct. A small, sharp push just enough to create space. My palm connected with her shoulder, nothing violent, nothing that should have mattered.But Selina staggered backward like I’d shoved her with both hands. Her heel caught on the edge of the rug. She went down hard, arms windmilling, a dramatic gasp tearing from her throat as she landed on her side, one hand flying protectively to her stomach.The performance was flawless.Mason was out of his chair in an instant, face contorted with fury.“What the hell is wrong with you?” he roared, rounding the desk so fast the chair spun behind him. “You just assaulted a pregnant woman!”I stared down at Selina. She was already curling into herself, eyes wide and glistening, lips trembling for max
Maya's POV I lifted my chin, Selina is there beside Mason, in a romantic posture. “How do you sleep at night, Selina, with all that evil sitting on your chest like a stone?”She laughed soft, delighted. “Easily. Because I finally stopped pretending to be the good girl who waits for her turn”I looked past her to Mason. He hadn’t moved from behind the desk. He watched us like a spectator at a mildly interesting tennis match.“I know,” I said quietly, addressing them both. “I know about the affair. I know she’s two months pregnant, like the doctor told you in the boardroom when you thought no one was listening. I heard the kiss. I heard the promises. I heard everything…..”Selina’s smile faltered for half a heartbeat.Mason’s expression didn’t change at all.“Today,” I continued, forcing each word past the knot in my throat, “was supposed to be our eighth anniversary. Eight years of trying. Eight years of hoping you’d wake up one morning and choose me anyway. But you’re right, this is







