Chapter 6

Maya’s POV

The 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 maximum effect. Not a single tear had fallen yet, but the promise of them was there, poised, ready to spill the moment an audience arrived.

“She pushed me,” Selina whimpered, voice small and broken. “Mason, she pushed me…”

I didn’t bother defending myself. What was the point? They’d already written the script.

Mason loomed over me, veins standing out in his neck. “If anything happens to her, if anything happens to our baby, I will bury you, Maya.

 Do you hear me? I will sue you into the ground. Assault, attempted harm to an unborn child, emotional distress, every charge I can throw at you. You’ll lose everything, the little pinnut you have. Everything.”

His words hit like bullets, but they didn’t pierce. Not anymore.

I met his gaze without flinching. “You already took everything worth having.”

The door burst open before he could reply.

Two security officers and a company medic rushed in, someone must have hit the emergency button. The medic dropped to his knees beside Selina, speaking in calm, practiced tones while checking her pulse, asking questions. Selina played her part perfectly: soft sobs, trembling hands, whispered fears about the baby.

They lifted her onto a stretcher with exaggerated care. As they wheeled her past me, she lifted her head just enough to meet my eyes.

The look she gave me wasn’t pain.

It was triumph.

They disappeared down the corridor toward the private elevator that led straight to the executive ambulance bay.

Mason didn’t follow immediately. He stayed, staring at me like I was something dangerous he’d finally cornered.

“Get out of my office,” he said through clenched teeth. “And get out of my building. You’re done here.”

I didn’t argue.

I walked past him, past the desk where our wedding photo still sat in its silver frame like a cruel joke and out into the hallway.

The executive floor had turned into a stage.

Colleagues lingered near their desks, pretending to work while stealing glances. Whispers followed me like smoke.

“…..heard she pushed Selina right in front of Mason..…”

“…..poor Selina….four months along and that woman just attacked her..…”

“..…they look so good together, don’t they? Always did. She’s so much warmer than Maya ever was..…”

“..…he’s finally free of that ice queen..…”

I kept my head high, steps even. Let them talk. Let them rewrite history. I’d spent eight years being the perfect, invisible wife. One more afternoon of gossip wouldn’t break what was already shattered.

I reached my office, still technically mine for the next few minutes, and closed the door behind me.

Silence.

I moved quickly. Laptop into the leather tote. Personal files, nothing company-related into a small box. A framed photo of my parents on their thirtieth anniversary went in last. I left the company-issued everything exactly where it was.

On the desk, I placed a single cream envelope.

My resignation.

I’d typed it in the dark last night, after the hallway confrontation. Clean. Professional. Effective immediately.

I sealed it.

Then I walked back into the hallway.

Mason was there, waiting, arms crossed, expression carved from stone. A small crowd had gathered at a respectful distance, phones discreetly angled.

He spoke first. Loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Maya Mason, due to gross misconduct in the workplace, assault on a colleague….you are hereby terminated. Effective immediately. Security will escort you out.”

I stopped a few feet away.

Then I smiled.

Small. Calm. Final.

“No need to fire me, Mason.” I held up the envelope. “I quit.”

I extended my hand. He took the envelope automatically, brow furrowing.

Before he could speak, I lifted my left hand.

The diamond caught the overhead lights, one last flash of what used to mean forever.

I slid the wedding band and engagement ring off together. They came easily, as though they’d been waiting for this moment.

I let them fall.

They hit the marble floor with two sharp, musical pings, tiny sounds that somehow echoed louder than his threats.

The hallway went deathly quiet.

I looked straight into his eyes.

“I’ve been embarrassed long enough,” I said, voice clear and steady. “Eight years of giving everything, my loyalty, my body, my dreams, my dignity. And all I got in return was betrayal. Not just from you. From the woman I called my sister since we were children”

I took one step back.

“You wanted me gone? Congratulations. I’m gone.”

I turned.

I didn’t look back.

Not at Mason.

Not at the rings glinting on the floor like discarded coins.

Not at the colleagues who’d already chosen their side.

My heels clicked down the corridor, steady, unhurried.

The elevator doors opened the moment I pressed the button.

I stepped inside.

As the doors slid closed, I caught one final glimpse of Mason, still holding the envelope, staring at the place where the rings lay like evidence of a crime he’d committed without remorse.

The doors sealed.

The car began its descent.

And for the first time in eight years, the weight on my chest lifted.

Not because the pain was gone.

But because I’d finally stopped carrying theirs.

They thought they’d won.

They had no idea the real game was only just beginning.