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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.
Mason's POV I watched it reach him. It started in his hands, which had been lax on the steel and now went flat, the fingers spreading as though to hold the table down. Then his shoulders. Then his breath, which stopped, and held, and did not come back for a long time. He believes. Belief is the first crack. The rest is just pressure and time. I had learned that sentence from my father. I had not known it would taste like this. "They are here," I said. "Alive. For now." Reeves stared at the photograph He said nothing at all. I watched a vein stand out in his temple and the pulse beat in it, and I counted eleven of those beats before he lifted his head and looked at me. In his eyes was no pleading, which I had expected. I saw a man memorizing my face. "I have one question," I said. "I'd like a plain answer." The overhead light hummed. "Someone is feeding Maya and her husband detailed material on the Association. Ranks. Structure. Names that never
Mason's POV I could have said no. In the window behind me the delivery truck pulled away, and in the gap it left I understood that my father was watching to see whether I would. Yes, Father. Two words. I said them clearly, the way a man signs a thing he has already read. By sundown it was done. Eleven men, four vehicles, one window of nine minutes. Reeves was lifted from the task-force garage with a hood over his head and a needle in his neck, and half an hour later a van left a quiet street in a good suburb with a woman and two children in the back. I took the reports on the burner in my father's study and made no sound. I stood in front of the cold fireplace and listened to a man's voice say package received three times. I told the team lead one thing. I did not know why I said it until the words were out. "No bruises. Not on the children. Feed them. Give them blankets." He paused. "Understood." "One of the men has a split knuckle," he added. "The wife
Mason's POV The report reached me at six in the morning, on a phone I'd been told to keep face-up on my father's desk where he could see it. "Alder Street," the voice said. "City police and Voss's private team went in yesterday afternoon. Forensics worked until night. The kitchen was still warm when they walked in." I stood at the window with the curtain held back an inch. A gray dawn lay over the rooftops, and a delivery truck idled at the corner with its engine running. "Direction?" North. A pause. "Every road north ends at one of three crossings. By tonight she's across, or she's caught." I ended the call. My father sat behind the desk in yesterday's shirt. The collar had gone soft, and a gray stubble shadowed his jaw. The glass of water on its coaster was empty. He had not asked for a refill, and I had never known him to let a glass stand empty. "She's slipping the net again," I said. "And she has the child." Michael. The name arrived uninvited. I had never
Maya's POV We took three cars. The medic in the back kept two fingers on my wrist and said nothing, which was how I knew my pulse was bad. Rain came and went. Town gave way to fields, and fields to a stretch of road where the mile markers counted down toward nothing. I counted with them. I counted until the numbers stopped meaning anything, and then I counted the seconds Alex's jaw stayed locked. Alder Street was one block long. A yellow house sat on the left with a hedge between it and a second house, low and gray, with a dead lawn and a feed-store calendar in the window next door. The rental had a single story and a flat roof. No upstairs. Dana had been right about everything.... Marcus's men went in through the front and the back at once, with two city officers behind them. The radio said "clear." Then it said "clear" again, in a different voice, and nothing after. Alex's hand closed on mine in the back seat. "Two minutes," he said. "Please.
Maya's POV "Not fussing. I know fussing. The first day it was quiet and thin. By the second evening he was screaming and it didn't stop. I lay awake listening through a wall like paper...." Under the table, my nails found my palm. "So I took over a crumble. It was nearly ten. I'm not proud of why. I wanted to see who was in there." "And?" "A woman. Brown hair to the jaw, a gray cardigan, worn to the bone. She kept the chain on the door. She had him in a sling against her chest, red as a beet. She said he was five days old." Dana's eyes didn't leave mine. "She said his name was Michael." The room went very small. Alex's hand settled on the back of my chair. I felt it more than I saw it.... "She said a cousin was helping, asleep upstairs," Dana said. "That house has no upstairs. I lived in the neighborhood for four years when I was first married." "Why lie about that?" Reeves asked. "Because someone was standing in the dark behind her. Two men. I never
Maya's POV "I will make up for all of it," Richard said, low. "Whatever it takes." I said nothing. There was nothing in me for him to take. A hand closed, on my elbow. "Maya...." Alex stood at my shoulder. I hadn't heard himm come in. He took in the nurse's face, Catherine's frozen hand, his father's hollowed look, and he read the temperature of the room the way he read everything, in one sweep. "Mother," he said quietly. "Give us a minute." He steered me through the adjoining door into the bedroom and closed it behind us. I stood in the middle of the carpet with my hands shaking. I was not afraid. My body simply had nowhere to put what it was holding. "Breathe," Alex said. "Don't." "You were close to falling over." "I was close to something...." He didn't touch me. He stood a careful arm's length away, which was worse than if he had. "You need to calm down," he said. "Not for him. For you." "Alex...." "This rage will eat you alive if you keep feeding
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 lo
Maya’s POVThe coordination suite felt smaller with just the two of us in it. The harbor glittered beyond the glass like it was mocking us both, endless, indifferent, moving on without caring who drowned.Selina didn’t bother with the soft, apologetic mask anymore. The moment Lila’s footsteps faded
Maya’s POVThe alarm screamed at 6:00 a.m. sharp, a shrill, unforgiving sound that drilled straight into my skull“Damn it,” I hissed, slapping the phone silent before it could cycle into its second round. My head throbbed part hangover from too much crying, part exhaustion from staring at the ceil
Maya’s POVI stayed until the last possible minute.Not because there was work left. Because I needed time to rebuild the mask.By the time I stepped into the executive hallway leading to the private parking garage, my heels clicked with deliberate calm. My makeup was fresh, concealer over the red







