Maya’s POV

Present time

“Son of a bitch!” Marisol muttered under her breath, her eyes blazing with anger.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her expression. “I know, right?”

She shot me a sharp look. “Where did you go after that? Did you have any money?”

“No,” I admitted. “I stayed with one of my father’s workers for a while. She took care of me—through those hellish nights when I was grieving my parents and suffering through the wreckage of my marriage.” I forced a small smile and stared down at my fidgeting fingers.

“She brought me soup and bandages for my hands that bled from hours of clenching and punching the walls.”

“Maya, dear…” Marisol’s voice softened, pity flickering in her eyes. She reached out and grasped my hand, squeezing it tightly.

“A few days after I signed the divorce papers, an envelope arrived for me. Everything in it is in this bag.” I unzipped my small carryall and laid its contents on my lap.

I slid a plane ticket, a credit card, and a handwritten address across to her. “A ticket, a credit card, and an address for a house in Maui. Well, at least he gave me a house. How thoughtful of him.”

Marisol gaped at me. “Thoughtful?!”

I smirked. “I was being sarcastic, Marisol.”

Then I pulled one more item from the bag and held it up: my wedding ring. “And here’s my wedding ring. I couldn’t stand to wear it anymore, but I couldn’t bring myself to toss it either.”

I tucked the ring back into the bag and zipped it closed.

“That bastard,” Marisol hissed. “So that’s why you’re here? He wanted to send you away?”

I nodded. “He knew I had nowhere else to go, but he didn’t want his pitiful ex-wife lingering around. I had to sell everything I owned back then to pay our employees. I walked away with nothing and a ruined reputation.”

Marisol frowned. “What about the money you gave him? Shouldn’t you get it back? It was yours.”

I sighed heavily. “It was my money—what I’d earned helping with the family business. But my parents insisted I hand it over to Adrian. After all, he was my husband, and what was his was mine, or so they said. So I gave it to him as an ‘investment’ in our… partnership.”

It stung even to think of it as a marriage.

“Your parents actually told you that?” Marisol gasped.

I swallowed hard, knotted with shame. “Yes.” I bowed my head, overcome with humiliation and self-pity. My parents never showed me any real affection. To them, I was nothing more than a financial asset. Still, for a long time, they were all I had. They arranged my engagement to Adrian. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine a life and a family with someone I loved.

My entire life, I strived to be his perfect wife. In return, he used me. After all I sacrificed for him, he discarded me and sent me off with this paltry settlement.

“Stop crying, Maya,” Marisol murmured, her voice gentle.

She was right—I hadn’t even noticed the tears dripping onto my bag, or how my body trembled until she pointed it out. Then I broke down completely.

“Oh, dear…” Marisol wrapped her arms around me like a true friend.

I gave in to her embrace, feeling so fragile that I just needed someone to hold me.

“I feel so stupid. Why did they give me to him? Why didn’t he want me?” I choked out between sobs.

I’d always known he was driven—relentlessly pursuing his father’s success. I was foolish to hope he had any room in his heart for someone else. He crushed the innocent boy I once loved and molded him into a cold, money-hungry businessman. Still, I stayed with him, clinging to the hope that the man I loved would resurface. But he never did.

In the end, I was just an abandoned daughter… and a wife who never really had a husband.

“Look, Maya.” Marisol released me from her hug and placed gentle hands on my shoulders. “I know it’s hard, and you feel completely alone. You’re at your lowest point.”

Wow. Thanks for stating the obvious.

“But look at where you are now: on a plane to paradise. You’re still young and beautiful. And you aren’t alone anymore.” She offered me the warmest smile I’d ever seen.

“Just look at what you did today—you made a friend.” She tapped her own chest. “And right now, I don’t feel lonely because of you.”

“Marisol…” I whispered.

She exhaled softly, brushing my tears away with her thumb. “I know this… partnership”—I let out a quiet laugh at the word—“is still new. But I’m here for you, dear. Since I’m older, you can think of me as your mom.”

My mother was nothing like her, and I froze, unsure what to say. In movies and from the housemaids who cared for me as a child, I’d seen this kind of mother: warm, nurturing. But I’d never experienced it firsthand. What do I say to someone offering me that?

“My mom never—” I started, then paused as my breath caught. I drew in a shaky inhale. “She was never like this. I’m sorry, I’m just… I don’t know how to—”

“Oh.” Marisol’s voice sounded sad for a moment, and then she chuckled softly. “Well, for starters, mothers set an example for their children. If you don’t know how, I’ll show you.”

Before I could react, she gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and lifted my chin with her fingertip. “If I were your mother, I’d do this so I could see my baby’s face clearly and feel proud that someone so wonderful came from me.”

Her touch made my lips tremble, and a fresh wave of sobs rose in my throat. I’d never been held like this before—so tenderly. I wanted to melt into her hands and never pull away.

“Then I’d tell you everything’s going to be okay, because Mom’s here.” She enfolded me in another embrace, warmer and more intimate than before. “I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I cried into her shoulder, but this time it wasn’t the ragged, breathless sobbing that followed my parents’ death and my divorce. It was quieter—released into safety and comfort—for the first time in a long, long while.