Chapter three

CYRUS’ POV

The words rang in my ears like a church bell on repeat. My lips trembled, my legs went numb, and my mouth fell open as I struggled to breathe.

“Marcus,” his name was the only thing I could manage. “Is this—”

“I’ve already signed the agreement,” he cut in sharply. “I don’t need your opinion. All I need is your signature.”

“Who is back?” I asked.

“Maxwell,” he replied without hesitation. “My boyfriend.”

The words shattered something inside me. My breathing turned heavy, hot tears burning at the corners of my eyes.

“Boyfriend?” I echoed, and he nodded.

That picture I once saw hidden in his drawer suddenly made sense.

So it was him.

“You had a boyfriend while you were in a contract marriage with me?” My voice shook. “Wasn’t it clearly stated that we weren’t allowed to be in a romantic relationship with anyone else?”

“I’m glad you understand what the word anyone means,” he snapped. “That explains why you opened yourself for me while—”

I didn’t let him finish.

My hand moved before my mind could catch up. The slap landed hard, the sound sharp and final, snapping his face to the side.

“Shut up!” I yelled, my voice shaking but firm.

I grabbed the document from the bed. His signature was already there.

Perfect.

I signed my name without hesitation.

“It’s over,” I said.

I turned to leave, but he caught my arm.

“How dare you slap me?” he demanded.

“You deserved it,” I shot back. “You’re inhuman. I blame myself for falling for your lies. You used me.” I laughed bitterly. “Like mother, like son.”

His eyes widened. “How dare you?”

I struck his arm and pulled free. “Go ask your father in hell.”

I knew I had crossed a line. His father had been kind to me when he was alive. But I was past caring. I was angry. I was hurt.

I walked into the closet and packed only what mattered. They were my mother’s things. I left behind everything Marcus bought for me. Every gift. Even the matching outfits.

Dressed in my old clothes, I paused and looked at him one last time. His eyes were still cold and distant.

This was the same man who had stood against his family for me. The man who had defended our forbidden love before the media. The man who knew everything about me—my allergies, my favorite meals, and how deeply I hated betrayal.

“I’ve sent the money I promised,” he said tightly. “Now, get out.”

“I was already leaving,” I replied.

And with that, I walked out of the mansion.

Just as I stepped out of the gate, a car’s headlights flashed, blinding me. I raised my left arm to shield my face.

The car came to a stop a few meters away. Shoes tapped against the tarmac, stopping directly in front of me. I lowered my arm, inhaling a familiar perfume that sent a chill down my spine.

“Look who it is,” Thomas, Marcus’ younger brother, said, laughter tearing from his throat. “The one my brother just divorced.”

Shock froze me, and I clenched my fists. “What did you just say?”

“You heard him right. Happy divorce day,” Vivian, my stepmother, added quietly, her tone sharp. “I can’t wait for the world to know. I hope the media spreads this as fast as possible.”

Their driver maneuvered the car into the compound.

“Does your son’s divorce make you happy?” I asked, my stomach twisting with disgust. “You’re not fit to be a mother. And I won’t apologize for saying it.”

Vivian’s mouth dropped open. Thomas’ eyes blazed with fury as he stepped toward me.

Just as he raised his hand, I readied myself but a cold sensation on my skin made my body clench. Dragging me to face backward, I saw him.

Marcus.

A slap landed across my cheek. Sharp. Hot. Unforgiving.

“Never in your pathetic life should you insult my mother ever again,” Marcus barked.

“Marcus— But you and your mother—”

“Cut the crap,” he snapped. “You thought we were not on the same side? Foolish. That contract marriage was only for the board members. Why would my mother never want me to be CEO of my father’s company?”

I blinked slowly, the truth crashing down. It had all been a lie. Luxury, affection, and closeness—all just a shadow to control me, to serve their hidden agendas.

“Marcus, you shouldn’t have—”

“You were never my brother’s choice,” Thomas interrupted.

“And never will you be,” Marcus agreed immediately.

Another car’s headlights flashed across the street, illuminating us. A grin tugged at Marcus’ lips. Vivian chuckled, and Thomas clapped.

“He’s finally here. My love,” Marcus said, amusement in his voice. A tone I had never heard for me.

I realized then I had been a fool, believing in a foundation of love that was never real. A love that was unrequited.

The car sped into the compound. They all turned toward the entrance, locking hands in silent triumph.

Vivian muttered something that pierced me deeper than any slap:

“I’m glad we’ve finally gotten rid of the mother and son mistake your father brought into our lives.”

How could I have been so blind?

“Marcus,” I called softly, rolling my fingers into a fist. “I’ll make you pay for this.”