One Night with the Billionaire

Chapter 2 : Coming Home to Win

Two days at the Grand Imperial Hotel felt like stepping into another world.

No Raka’s annoying voice.

No Livia’s perfume stinging her nose.

Just Aruna, Cika, a cup of coffee, and a pile of thoughts demanding answers.

For two nights, she sat in silence—thinking, crying, then laughing bitterly. Piece by piece, she assembled a plan in her head like a puzzle.

And this morning, with the sun barely climbing up the sky, Aruna stood before the mirror, buttoning a crisp white blazer—the kind that silently said: I’m here to destroy you, but I’ll look gorgeous doing it.

Cika raised a brow the moment she saw her. “Wow… that’s the executive revenge look. Where are you going?”

“Home,” Aruna replied shortly, reaching for her bag.

“Home? To start trouble?”

“No. To take back what’s mine. That house belonged to my parents. The company he works at? He got in because I recommended him. If he thinks he can just throw me away…” Aruna gave a sharp, dangerous smile. “He hasn’t met the post-betrayal version of me.”

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By nine a.m., Aruna’s car rolled to a stop in front of the house.

The home that once felt warm now looked foreign. The same gate stood there, but Livia’s car sat in the driveway. Aruna’s blood simmered.

She walked up with steady steps and knocked—once, hard.

Moments later, the door opened. Livia appeared, silk pajamas on, her face wearing a poorly acted look of surprise.

“Aruna… you—”

“Move,” Aruna cut her off coldly, pushing the door open. “This is my house. Not a guesthouse.”

Livia froze but didn’t dare block her. Aruna strode inside straight to the living room. Raka emerged from the kitchen, hair still messy.

“You came back?” His voice tried for warmth, but the nerves were obvious.

“Came back to finish unfinished business,” Aruna said, eyes sharp.

Raka swallowed. “Aruna, I know you’re angry. But we can—”

“Stop.” She raised a hand. “Don’t start with ‘I can explain.’ I’ve spent the last two days thinking. And I’ve decided on one thing: you’re moving out of this house.”

Raka stepped forward, face flushing. “You can’t just do that. We’re married—”

“We’re married because I allowed it. And this house is in my family’s name. Which means you’re just a guest here.” Her voice was calm but icy, her eyes glinting. “If I want, your things will be out on the curb by tomorrow morning.”

Livia clung to Raka’s arm, trying to chime in. “Aruna, please… don’t be rash. We can—”

We? Aruna’s gaze raked over her from head to toe. “That word died the night you both decided to betray me. I’ll give you one warning: stay out of my life, or I’ll make sure you can’t breathe in this city.”

Silence thickened the air. Livia clearly hadn’t expected Aruna to come back this strong. Raka opened his mouth to speak, but Aruna cut him off again.

“I want you, Raka, out of that company by next week. Don’t worry—I’ll speak to the board myself. I brought you in, I can take you out. Think of it as returning you to where you were before you met me.”

“That’s too much!” Raka raised his voice.

“Too much? You slept with my best friend in my house and you think I’ll be polite? Oh, sweetheart… this is just the warm-up.”

She stepped closer, her voice dropping into a blade-sharp whisper.

“You think I’ll stay quiet? No. I’ll take back everything I gave you. And then… we’re getting divorced.”

Raka stood frozen, pale. Livia looked at him as if begging him to say something, but he stayed silent.

Aruna took a slow breath, then glanced at the door.

“Now, I’m going to shower and rest in my own home. You have two hours to get out before I call security.”

Without another glance, she walked upstairs. Each step of her heels on the wooden stairs sounded like war drums. With every step, her anger settled into something sharper—strategy.

Today, she’d start with the house.

Tomorrow… the company.

And when it was all over, Raka and Livia would know—they had picked the wrong enemy.

Downstairs, she could hear them whispering, arguing about where to go next. Aruna didn’t care. As long as they left.

The morning air was still fresh—until a long, angry honk tore through it. Aruna had just turned on the coffee machine when the front gate slammed open. Through the window, she spotted a figure she knew all too well: Mrs. Ratna, Raka’s mother.

The woman who, in five years of marriage, only visited when she needed something—and today, apparently, she needed drama.

The front door rattled under hard knocks, followed by a shrill yell.

“Aruna! Get out here! You ungrateful woman!”

Aruna sighed deeply. She hadn’t even taken her first sip of coffee, and already the morning was turning into a soap opera. She opened the door.

“What is it, Ma’am? Yelling this early like a vegetable seller who took the wrong street?”

Mrs. Ratna barged in without an invitation, eyes blazing. “You’ve gone too far with Raka! He’s your husband, the head of this household, and you throw him out like a thief?!”

“Because he is one,” Aruna said flatly. “A thief of trust, peace, and loyalty.”

“I don’t care what you say! You’re a useless wife!” She jabbed a finger at Aruna. “Five years of marriage and not a single child! No wonder Raka found another woman! He’s a normal man, Aruna—he needs children!”

Aruna’s blood boiled. “So according to you, cheating is acceptable as long as it’s for having a baby?”

“Yes! Better than being stuck with a barren woman! My son’s future is at stake!” Mrs. Ratna shouted.

The word barren hit like a whip.

For years, Aruna had stayed silent whenever people asked why they didn’t have children. She swallowed all the gossip to keep the marriage intact. But today, standing before a mother-in-law who justified her son’s betrayal, her patience snapped.

Her lips curved into a cold smile. “Do you want to know why we don’t have children? Because your son is too busy ‘working overtime’ outside to even join a fertility program. So before you point fingers, look in the mirror. Maybe the one barren here… is your son’s loyalty and morals.”

Mrs. Ratna’s face turned as red as boiled crab. “How dare you speak to me like that?!”

Aruna straightened her back. “A good parent teaches their child to be faithful. A bad one justifies their betrayal. Now I know which one you are.”

Mrs. Ratna started yelling again, but Aruna was done wasting time. She grabbed her phone and called the neighborhood head.

“Sir, this is Aruna. I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s someone yelling at my house, causing a scene, and disturbing the neighborhood. Could you please come over?”

“Right now?” the man sounded surprised.

“Yes, right now. And please bring security if needed.”

Fifteen minutes later, the neighborhood head and two security guards arrived. Mrs. Ratna’s rant died mid-sentence as one of the guards approached.

“Ma’am, we received a report about disturbance. We’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“This is my son’s house!” she protested.

The neighborhood head shook his head. “The house is under Aruna’s family name. If the owner asks you to leave, you must leave.”

Aruna stood at the doorway, arms crossed. “I still have enough dignity not to drag this to the police. So I suggest you go home. If you want to defend your son, go ahead—but not in my house.”

Mrs. Ratna’s jaw tightened, but she had no comeback this time. She stormed out, the gate slamming shut with a clang that was music to Aruna’s ears.

She exhaled. Nothing felt better than clearing your home of toxic people.

Moments later, her phone lit up—Desi, Raka’s younger sister who was still in college.

Aruna didn’t need to guess; she was probably calling to ask for money again. Tuition fees, allowance—Aruna had been the one paying all of it.

She set the phone down without answering. She was done funding Raka’s family. Not another cent.

And deep down, she knew—this was only the beginning of the war.

Next stop: Raka’s career.