Chapter 3

Maya’s POV

Can’t I still hold on to that memory?

His expression softened as he looked at me. “Maya…”

That tiny shift in his face ignited a flicker of hope inside me—hope that maybe he would stay. So I pleaded.

“Please…” My voice trembled, growing even weaker with each word. “Please don’t leave me…”

I could feel my own shame—how pathetic I sounded—but I couldn’t stop myself.

With barely any effort, he pulled his hand back.

“You always said you wanted what was best for me, right?” he said quietly. “Well, this is it. Carter doesn’t have a future anymore. If you insist on remaining my wife, it will only harm the Brooks family.”

“What?” I choked out.

“There’s no other way, Maya. Just sign this.” He slid a stack of papers toward me across his mahogany desk. “Then I’ll talk to the lawyer about your settlement. It’s one of the perks of divorce. You’ll have a fresh start afterward.”

Something inside me snapped—but I forced myself to stay silent.

What utter nonsense. His family had destroyed the Carters’ reputation and left us destitute. He’d refused to hand over ForeverCorp, even though it was the only thing that could have saved us. He robbed my family of the chance to redeem ourselves—and then demanded that I trust him anyway.

And I did. I believed him.

Still, the Carters went bankrupt. Mother and Father despised me, convinced I’d been a fool. I’d begged them to trust Adrian, but we were all naive.

Even after that, I chose him over my own blood—because, irrationally, he was my family now, and because I loved him so deeply that everything I did was for him, everything revolved around him.

And now this bastard had the nerve to tell me to start over? To pretend there was a silver lining in his betrayal?

I squeezed my fists beneath my skirt, struggling to hold back the urge to tear apart his office. My heart was already broken beyond repair. All I wanted was to hurl the fragments of it right into his smug face.

“Fine,” I muttered, barely audible.

I snatched up the pen and bent toward the paper. I was about to sign when the office door swung open.

A familiar voice drifted in—like ice water splashing over an open wound.

“Adrian, darling!” she chimed, all enthusiasm.

“Sabrina.” He rose immediately, a welcome grin touching his lips. “What brings you here?”

I glanced over my shoulder. They greeted each other as if they hadn’t seen one another in ages. I wasn’t fooled; I knew they spent at least every other night together.

My chest tightened as Adrian reached for her, his hands gliding over the curves beneath her tight red dress—fabric that clung to her like spandex. I nearly lost my composure then and there, thinking that he’d never touched me like that in public—never showered me with those intimate gestures when we were alone, never made an effort to introduce me to anyone else. People whispered that I was a ghost, a wife who existed only on paper.

And yet here he was, proudly parading his mistress right in front of me.

My stomach churned. I wanted to vanish.

Sabrina let out a laugh that put any hyena to shame. “Oh, I just wanted to bring you something to celebrate this joyous occasion. After all…” She flashed me a cruel sneer, malice glittering in her eyes.

“…it’s your Independence Day,” she declared triumphantly, producing a bottle of vintage wine.

I nearly snapped the pen in half from the force of my grip. The audacity of that second-rate actress, daring to stand in the same room with me. Still, I forced myself to finish signing. I pressed my signature onto every line.

But I couldn’t hold back the tears when I heard his next words.

“Perfect timing. We just finished, right, Maya?”

What the hell?

My teeth ground together so hard my jaw ached, and my lungs constricted until I struggled for air. After everything he’d done to me—breaking my heart in every conceivable way—I had expected to let him go with dignity. But this time, all I felt was raw, scorching rage.

He strode over to me, peering down at the papers to double-check my signature. A proud, satisfied smile curved his lips. “Great.”

Then he turned to Sabrina. “Babe, why don’t you open that wine now?”

I was on the verge of committing a crime.

“I’m done.” I announced it as calmly as I could, though my voice shook.

Just then, the cork popped from the bottle with a sharp report.

“Oh, would you look at that!” Sabrina crowed. “You’re all mine now, Adrian!”

He beamed at her, then glanced at the papers again. “Indeed.”

He gathered them up, smoothing them into a neat pile. I remained frozen in my chair, feeling smaller by the second. I wanted to bolt—to drag myself away from this scene of my own annihilation.

My marriage was over. My ex-husband and his mistress were celebrating my downfall right before my eyes. And I couldn’t stop the tears—even though I’d sworn I would be furious, invincible. I’d planned to unleash hell in his office. Instead, I sat here, helpless.

My wedding ring felt loose on my finger, probably because I hadn’t eaten properly for days. I stared at it, remembering our wedding day—when I became his wife. That memory used to be so vivid, but now it was tainted, a blur of lies.

I’m not his wife anymore. It’s official. I have no one now.

As I rose to leave, silent as a shadow, he spoke again. His voice was deceptively gentle, but every word was a knife twist.

“Would you need anything after this?”

That was it.

I stared at him in stunned disbelief. Did I need anything?

Oh, what a despicable bastard. Asking if there was anything I needed after utterly destroying me. Is he even real?

I dropped the pen. It clattered on the floor. And I walked away.