Chapter 50 - A Rude Awakening

Ayra was pulled from the depths of an uneasy sleep by the shrill ring of her phone. She barely registered the sound at first, her mind sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion and the lingering remnants of restless dreams.

The glow of the screen pierced the darkness of her room as she fumbled for the device on the nightstand. Her fingers curled around it, and she squinted at the caller ID.

Sarah.

A sliver of unease crept down her spine. It was late—past midnight—and Sarah wasn’t the type to call at this hour.

Swallowing back sleep, she answered. Yes, Sarah was a bitch, but as her father had taught her, even bitches had a use. 

“Sarah?” Her voice was groggy, laced with confusion. She was not in the mood for a call. 

“Ayra.” The tone of Sarah’s voice jolted her fully awake. “You need to sit down.”

Ayra pushed herself up against the pillows, heart hammering now. “What? What’s wrong?”

A beat of silence, then—

“I saw Lucian.”

Her breath caught.

The sound of his name alone was enough to unsettle her, but it was the way Sarah said it - cautiously - that sent warning bells ringing in her head.

“…Okay?” she said slowly. “And?”

There was another pause, as if Sarah was debating how to say it. Then she exhaled sharply and said, “He was at a love hotel. You know the one - Diva's Grace. With a woman.”

Ayra’s entire body went still.

Sarah’s words didn’t make sense at first. They entered her mind, but they refused to settle, floating above her in a haze of disbelief.

“…What?”

There was a pause on the other end, hesitation bleeding into the silence. That, more than anything, sent unease crawling up Ayra’s spine. Sarah had never hesitated before.

“You need to see this.”

Before Ayra could respond, a notification popped up on her screen—a forwarded message. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tapped on it, and an image loaded almost instantly.

The moment she saw it, the breath left her lungs.

It was a grainy, zoomed-in photo, but there was no mistaking the man in the frame.

The Director. 

He was walking into a hotel with a woman draped over his arm. Her long, wavy hair cascaded down her back, her dress scandalously tight against her body as she leaned into him. Lucian’s face was turned slightly away from the camera, but the unmistakable sharp lines of his jaw and the familiar cut of his suit confirmed what Ayra already knew.

It was him.

Ayra swallowed, staring at the image until the edges blurred. A foreign sensation twisted in her chest—hot and sharp—but it wasn’t heartbreak.

It was deep, crushing humiliation.

Not because she loved him. Not because she had ever fooled herself into thinking this was a real marriage.

But because this was public.

She had been married for less than a day, and already, the man who was supposed to be her husband was flaunting himself with another woman.

The Lucian she had just married hours ago.

Ayra’s stomach twisted itself into knots. 

She wanted to say it wasn’t possible. That there had to be an explanation. But what explanation could there be?

Lucian hadn’t so much as acknowledged her existence since they exchanged vows earlier that day. He had ignored her at lunch, disappeared at dinner, and now—

He was with another woman?

At a love hotel?

Anger crawled up her spine like fire, settling deep in her bones.

“Are you sure?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

Sarah sighed. “I’m sure.”

Ayra pressed her palm against her forehead, willing herself to stay calm, to not let this shake her. But it did. God, it did.

This was so fucking blatant it was not funny at all.

He hadn’t even tried to hide it.

Not even a full day had passed, and he was already parading around with another woman?

And no doubt pictures of him with a woman would be all over the internet come morning. People ever did like to prod into the love life of the rich and famous. And when they did, they would pull up Ayra Russo. Now Ayra fucking Cyrus. 

Fuck. 

She thought of how she had spent the day wandering this unfamiliar house, trying to find her place in it. How she had sat alone at that massive dining table, waiting for a husband who never came. And all the while, he had been out with someone else.

Her fingers curled into the sheets.

“What are you going to do?” Sarah asked softly.

Ayra exhaled slowly, forcing herself to think. What was she going to do? Confront him? Demand an explanation? Ayra snorted. As if Lucian would give one. 

She could almost hear his voice in her head, cold and dismissive. 

'What did you expect, Ayra? This was never a real marriage.'

A lump formed in her throat and she held back th urge to smash something. 

She had known this wasn’t a real marriage. But somehow, she hadn’t expected him to make a complete and utter fool of her like this.

“Nothing,” she said finally, her voice hollow.

Sarah hesitated. “…Nothing?”

“What else can I do?” Ayra let out a small, bitter laugh. “Drag him back by the collar? Throw a tantrum?”

Sarah was silent for a moment before sighing. “You don’t deserve this.”

Ayra closed her eyes.

But what did that change?

Nothing.

“Ayra,” Sarah’s voice softened. “You don’t have to stay in this marriage.”

But she did. 

Her grip on the phone tightened. 

That was the worst part. The contract had been signed. The ink was dry. And no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t just walk away. For at least a year, there could be no divorce. 

“Send me everything,” she told Sarah finally.

Sarah hesitated. “Are... you sure?”

“Yes.” Her voice was steady. “I want to see everything.”

A beat of silence, then a soft sigh. “Alright. I’ll send it over.”

Goodnight, bitch, Ayra said in her mind. 

The call ended with a quiet beep, and Ayra was left sitting in the darkness, staring at the still-lit screen of her phone as new messages flooded in.

More photos. A video. A handful of messages speculating who the woman was.

Her stomach churned, but she clicked on them anyway.

If Lucian wanted to humiliate her, applause to him. He was doing a rather good job already. But two could play that game.