The City's Biggest Heiress

2. SYLVIA

EMILIA

The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in my ears as I stood there, frozen. Jason’s mother’s sharp voice still rang in my head.

"Get out of my face, Emilia!" she’d yelled, pointing a perfectly manicured finger toward the staircase.

I didn’t say a word. I never did. I just turned around and walked away, the humiliation swallowing me whole like a dark, endless pit.

By the time I reached my room, my legs felt like jelly. The door clicked softly behind me as I leaned against it, struggling to catch my breath, I was so tired and weak. My chest felt heavy, like someone had stacked bricks on it.

I was Jason's wife yet I lived like a slave in his house, our house.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I reached for it, eager for a distraction. The name on the screen made my heart skip: Sylvia. My best friend.

Someone who cared about me. At least, that’s what I thought.

I unlocked the phone, expecting a funny meme or a voice note from her to lighten my mood. But what I saw sent a shiver down my spine.

It was a video.

Jason. In a hotel room.

His shirt was gone, and a towel hung loosely around his waist. His hair was damp, his skin glistening with sweat.

And Sylvia? She was there, too, with a towels as well. Her hands were all over him, and her lips—her lips were pressed against his.

My world tilted.

Under the video, she had written:

*“You’ve always acted like you won the world because you married Jason, but now he’s mine. Who knew he could taste this sweet?”*

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The room spun around me as I stared at the screen, my mind refusing to process what I was seeing.

Jason. My husband.

Sylvia. My best friend.

Together, kissing.

Rage boiled in my chest, burning away the hurt, the disbelief, the sadness. This wasn’t just some random woman.

This was Sylvia. The person I’d trusted with everything. The person who knew how much I had sacrificed for Jason.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stormed out of the room, my vision blurred with fury. My feet carried me straight to Jason’s mini office downstairs.

I didn’t bother knocking. I pushed the door open, and there he was, sitting at his desk, his focus on some papers in front of him.

When he looked up and saw me, his face twisted into a scowl.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Emilia?” he barked. “Who told you to barge into my office like a street dog?”

I was too angry to care. I slammed my phone down on the desk, the screen still displaying the video.

“What the hell is this, Jason?” I hissed, my voice trembling with rage.

He glanced at the phone, then leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

“What does it look like?” he said, his tone as cold as ice.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“You don’t even care, do you?” I yelled, my voice breaking. “I’ve overlooked so much, Jason. All those women you brought into our house, into our bed, I stayed quiet. But Sylvia? My best friend? How could you?”

Jason leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His expression was calm, almost bored, like he didn't give a sh*t.

“Listen, Emilia.” he said, not even an ounce of remorse was on his features. “I don’t give a sh*t about what you want or don’t want. This is my life. I’ll do whatever I d*mn well please.”

His words felt like a slap. I stared at him, my chest heaving, my hands trembling.

“Do I even matter to you Jason?” I asked, raising my voice at him.

“Do I mean anything to you at all, Jason? Because ever since you got rich, you’ve completely changed. You’re not the man I fell in love with.”

Jason laughed, a cruel, hollow sound that made my stomach churn.

“You? Matter to me?” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve never mattered, Emilia. You were just convenient. Back when I was broke, I needed someone to support me. Someone to work while I built my business. And you? You were perfect for that. But now…”

He smirked, his eyes cold and unfeeling.

“Now I have options. I can have any woman I want. Women with class. Women who actually belong in my world. And you, Emilia? You’re not it.”

His words hit me like a sledgehammer. My knees felt weak, and I had to grip the edge of the desk to keep myself from collapsing.

“How could you say that?” I whispered. “After everything I’ve done for you, after everything I’ve sacrificed…”

Jason reached into a drawer and pulled out a file. He tossed it onto the desk, the pages inside scattering slightly.

“You think I owe you something?” he said, his voice sharp. “Well, here’s something I’ve been meaning to give you.”

I picked up the file with shaking hands and opened it.

Divorce papers.

The room went silent. The only sound was the faint rustle of the papers as I turned the pages, my vision blurring with tears.

“You’re divorcing me?” I choked out.

Jason leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s about time, don’t you think?” he said. “We both know this marriage is over. Sign the papers, Emilia. Let’s stop pretending.”

My hands trembled as I held the pen. Every part of me wanted to throw those papers in his face, to scream at him, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he was causing me.

But what was the point?

Jason had made his choice. He didn’t want me.

So I signed.

I signed every single page, my tears smudging the ink as I did.

When I was done, I threw the file onto his desk and turned to leave.

“This is how you repay me, Jason?” I said, my voice cracking. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is what I get?”

Jason didn’t say a word. He just watched me with that cold, detached expression, as if I were nothing more than a stranger.

I walked out of his office, my legs barely able to carry me. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest and stomped on.

When I got to our room, I grabbed a suitcase and started packing.

Clothes, shoes, a few personal items. I didn’t have much, but I didn’t care. I just needed to get out.

As I zipped up the suitcase, I glanced around the room one last time.

This was supposed to be my home. My safe haven.

But now it was just a prison.

I dragged the suitcase down the stairs, my hands trembling with every step.

Jason’s mother was in the living room, sipping tea and chatting with a friend. She looked up as I passed, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Good riddance.” She said.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have the energy.

I opened the front door and stepped out into the cool evening air.

For the first time in years, I felt free from this prison, I was still boiling with so much rage for Jason.

As I walked down the street, suitcase in tow, I realized I had nothing.

No job. No money. No family.

But I had myself.

And for now, that would have to be enough.