His Mistake

Chapter 1

Shay's POV

The silk of my dress felt like a lie against my skin.

It was a cheap, off-the-rack piece I’d found at a thrift store and tailored myself. I had worn it with the hopes that tonight would be the night everything changed.

For three years, I had been the ghost in the machine of Falcone Enterprises. I had skipped meals so Massimo could afford the high-end suits for his pitches. I had stayed up until 4:00 AM correcting his spreadsheets, my eyes blurring until the numbers looked like ants.

I didn't mind the sacrifices. I loved him. And tonight, as I looked at the shimmering gold-and-black banner that read FALCONE ENTERPRISES: THE BILLION-DOLLAR ASCENSION, I felt like we had both won.

I pressed my hand against my stomach, a secret smile tugging at my lips. I hadn’t told him yet. I wanted to wait for the perfect moment, after the champagne, after the cheers to tell him that he wasn't just a billionaire now; he was going to be a father.

"And now," Massimo’s voice boomed, vibrating through the floorboards and into my very bones. He looked like a god under the spotlights, with a sharp jawline, eyes like molten obsidian, and a smile that had always been my only sanctuary.

"I want to bring up the woman who has been the true heart of this journey. The woman who deserves to share this throne with me."

My heart hammered against my ribs. This is it, I thought. The public acknowledgment I never asked for, but secretly craved.

I stepped out from the wings of the stage, my heels clicking on the polished marble. I caught his eye, and for a split second, I expected to see the warmth he used to show me in our tiny studio apartment. Instead, I saw a cold, calculating void.

I was three feet away from him, my hand already reaching out, when a blur of gold and white silk cut me off.

A woman, tall, ethereal, and smelling of a perfume that cost more than my entire wardrobe slammed her shoulder into mine. It wasn't an accident.

It was a strike. I wasn't prepared for the impact; my heel snapped, and I went down hard. My palms scraped against the floor, the sting immediate and sharp.

I looked up, dazed, expecting Massimo to roar in anger at the woman who had just shoved his wife.

Instead, he reached out. But not for me.

He took the blonde woman’s hand, his fingers interlacing with hers with a familiarity that made my blood run cold. He pulled her to his side, his arm coiling around her waist as if she were the missing piece of his soul.

"Everyone," Massimo announced, his voice amplified by the microphone, "I am proud to introduce my wife, Elena Van Doren-Falcone. The woman who made tonight possible."

The room erupted. The applause was a physical weight, crushing the air out of my lungs. I stayed on the floor, my broken shoe discarded, staring at the man I had spent three years building from nothing.

His wife?

"Massimo?" I whispered, but my voice was drowned out by the roar of the elite.

I tried to stand, to scream, to demand an explanation, but a hand like a talon clamped onto my shoulder and wrenched me backward. I was dragged into the shadows behind a towering floral arrangement.

"Stay down, you pathetic little leech," a voice hissed in my ear.

I didn't need to look to know it was Catherine, Massimo’s mother. She had always looked at me like I was something she’d stepped in on the sidewalk.

"Catherine, what is he saying? I'm his wife! We have the certificates, we…"

"You have scraps of paper that mean nothing," Catherine sneered, her face contorted in a mask of pure elitist disgust.

"Did you really think a Falcone would tie himself to a girl who smells like discount laundry detergent and desperation? You were a tool, Shay. A convenient little pet to keep his bed warm and his books clean while he waited for a woman of his own stature."

"I love him," I choked out, tears finally blurring my vision. "And he loves me. He…"

"He loathes you," she interrupted, her laughter like breaking glass.

"He spent every night you weren't looking, laughing at your effort. You’re an eyesore, Shay. Look at Elena. She brings a merger. You bring what? A coupon for cheap bread? Get out before I have security throw you out like the trash you are."

She shoved me away with a strength born of pure hatred.

I couldn't let it end like this. I had to get to him. He was being manipulated, he had to be.

My Massimo wouldn't do this. He couldn't. Not when I was carrying his child.

I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my ankle, and rushed toward the side of the stage as Massimo began to descend, surrounded by a phalanx of black-suited men.

"Massimo!" I screamed, throwing myself past a waiter. "Massimo, look at me! Tell her she’s wrong! Tell them who I am!"

He stopped. The circle of security paused. Elena looked at me with a bored, pitying expression, as if I were a stray dog barking at a limousine.

Massimo turned. The face I had kissed every morning for a thousand days was now a mask of granite. There was no recognition. Only a simmering, lethal boredom.

"Massimo, please," I sobbed, reaching for his hand. "Your mother is saying... She's saying horrible things. Tell me it's a joke. Tell me the launch is just a show."

"The only joke here, Shay, is you," he said. His voice was a calm, Arctic chill that froze the marrow in my bones. He leaned down, his breath smelling of the expensive scotch we used to dream of buying.

"You served your purpose. You were the 'used rag' I used to wipe the grease off this company while I was building it. But once the machine is shiny, you throw the rag away."

My heart didn't just break; it shattered into a million microscopic pieces. "I gave you everything. I worked for you. I bled for you!"

"And you did a mediocre job at best," he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "You were boring in the office, and frankly, you were even worse in bed. I had to close my eyes and imagine someone else just to get through the night with you."

The insult felt like a physical blow to the stomach. I gasped, my hand instinctively moving to my belly. "Massimo, I'm pregnant. I’m carrying your baby."

He didn't blink. He didn't soften. He simply laughed, a short, dark sound. "Then get rid of it. Or don't. Just make sure it never carries the Falcone name. I don't want that tainted blood in my lineage."

He looked at his lead guard. "She’s trespassing. Remove the filth."

"Massimo, no!"

The guard didn't hesitate. He grabbed me by the waist and swung me with a brutal, practiced force. I felt the air leave my lungs as I was flung toward the edge of the decorative marble fountain.

My hip hit the stone edge with a sickening crack. I tumbled into the shallow water and then onto the hard floor.

The world turned sideways.

The ceiling lights spun like dying stars.

I tried to move, but a white-hot agony flared in my lower back, radiating down my legs. I reached out, my fingers trembling, and felt something warm and thick pooling around me on the cold, white tile.

I looked down. The crimson stain was spreading, blooming like a dark rose against my cheap dress.

No, I screamed internally, but no sound came out. Not the baby. Anything but the baby.

Through the haze of pain, I saw Massimo walking away, his hand firmly on Elena’s lower back, laughing at something she whispered. He didn't look back. Not once.

As the darkness rushed in to claim me, the only thing I felt besides the agonizing pain was a cold, crystalline spark of some

Thing new.

Regret?

No!

That was for him.

For me, there was only the beginning of a Very. Long. List!