Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother

 “Mrs Dawson, your son needs a blood transfusion soon, or he might not make it.”

“Then take my blood, doctor, please,” Benita pleaded, “Do everything to save him, please.” 

“We’re doing our best, Mrs Dawson. We need a blood that matches, and yours doesn’t.”

“What about my husband? Can you check? One of us has to match.”

“We’re still running the tests, but if you want him to live, you have to find someone else just in case. Gaby doesn’t have much time left.”

Benita froze beside her son’s small, pale body. 

Gaby was a healthy six-year-old until three weeks ago. Everything took a different turn— the doctor diagnosed him with anemia. An aggressive one, progressing rapidly.

Benita pressed her hands to her mouth stifling soft sobs that didn't do justice to the desperation in her heart.

But daddy- Ben- hadn’t visited the hospital once since Gaby was diagnosed. Not even a call. No support. Just vague text messages about “business trips” and “not wanting to see their son like this.”

Benita understood. It was indeed difficult to see their son like this. She understood that one of them had to stay strong for the rest of the family, so she didn't complain.

They were college sweethearts who had gotten married against all odds, against all standards. Ben was her man from the day their eyes met. But recently, Benita caught herself wondering if he was still the same man she married.

Gaby's labored breathing snapped out her thoughts, he was white as ash. Benita sprang to her feet.

But when she walked out of the hospital, she was cloaked by confusion. Her mind raced with so many thoughts and no direction. She had no idea where to start from. 

She needed Ben. She needed him to hold her and tell her that everything would be alright. She needed him to help her look for a blood donor.

The last time she had felt this desperate was during those long four years of infertility. And then—miracle of miracles—Gaby came. Her answered prayer. Her joy.

She remembered the way Ben lifted her in his arms when the test came back positive. “You and our baby will never lack a thing,” he’d sworn.

She believed him.

She believed every word.

She drove straight to his office tower. Maybe he didn’t know how bad things had gotten. Maybe he didn’t understand that their son was holding onto a thin thread and that she feared they would lose him. Her chest ached for the comfort of his embrace, his strength, his promises. 

The elevator dinged open on the nineteenth floor. His door was ajar.

Benita exhaled. He’s here. It'll be alright, she told herself. Ben will fix this.

But then— voices. Laughter. A moan.

Benita’s feet stopped moving. The laughter twisted something in her chest.

“No,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t. Not Ben.”

But the sounds from inside left no room for doubt.

“Fiona, you’re so wet.” 

Benita froze— not just because that was unmistakably Ben’s voice, but… Fiona?! 

Fiona? Her best friend of twelve years? 

"No, it has to be another Fiona," her voice came out shaky, "No, no..."

Her hand hovered over the doorknob. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back. But she had to know. She had to be sure, or else she would lose her mind.

She peered into the office. Reluctantly, afraid of what she might find.

When she walked in, it was Fiona—Fiona McGarrick— and Ben was buried deep inside her, thrusting hard, and fast.

Benita stood for a good minute, throat dry. Body trembling. Her entire world shattered.

If anyone had told her, she would’ve laughed in their faces. 

Ten years. Ten years of love, of friendship, of sacrifice...

And it didn’t matter to any of them that Gaby was fighting for his life right now. It didn't even matter to any of them that they were destroying her heart.

She should’ve stormed in. Screamed. And hit him.

 But she shook her head. “It can’t be real.” She muttered. "Ben must be under some sort of influence. He would never cheat on her. He has to have a reason if only she asked calmly.”

She stood up instantly and held the door handle but before she could give the door a push; Ben’s voice stopped her. 

“How much longer do I have to play second to that pathetic saint of a wife?” The irritation in Fiona's voice shocked Benita more than anything else. They were supposed to be friends. Where is the remorse? 

“How long are you going to pretend you love her?”

“Shh, Fiona!” Ben cautioned, “Someone could hear us.”

“I don't care! Isn’t it time you divorced her? How long will I keep waiting?”

“Fiona, my heart belongs to you and only you, don’t ever forget that. But dumping her now will ruin all our plans… you know she’s still useful."

Benita forgot how to breathe. 

All those years, and she was nothing but useful?

For just a moment, she wanted to believe that there was an explanation for his actions. Perhaps there was something she wasn’t doing right. Or maybe Gaby’s health had taken a toll on him but she had heard it all. 

She was useful, not loved. She was just a wife, Fiona owned his heart. 

Benita stumbled through the hallway, one hand holding her chest, the other slamming the elevator buttons.

She had just reached her car when her phone rang. 

Ben’s name lit up the screen.

Benita decided not to answer. She couldn't stand his voice now. 

The call ended, and a text buzzed.

Benita slipped into her car, still staring at the text message.

Right there in the parking lot, Ben came out hand in hand with Fiona. She watched them kiss. Then they drove off. "They aren't even trying to hide it," Fiona muttered painfully.

Her best friend was in a relationship with her husband of ten years. 

She pressed her forehead to the steering wheel and her tears poured endlessly.

Just then—her phone buzzed again.

A message from the hospital.

“Urgent: We’ve found a compatible blood donor. It’s Ben Dawson. Please respond.”