The Billonaire’s Bet

Zara’s POV “It’s my boyfriend’s birthday.” That was all I had been saying all day, and I had said it with so much excitement that anyone would have thought it was my birthday instead. I had even tipped the girl at the jewelry store who helped me choose the perfect gift for my boyfriend, Marshall, after making her bring out what felt like half the watches in the store. In the end, I had gone with the one I knew he would love. He had been talking about it all week, pretending he only liked it because it was a beautiful watch, but I knew him well enough to know he wanted it. He had told me that morning that he wasn't feeling well and didn't want to go anywhere, so I had promised to let him rest. But the longer the day went on, the more I hated the thought of him spending his birthday alone. So I changed my mind. I stopped by his favorite restaurant on my way to his apartment, picked up his favorite meal and the bottle of wine he always ordered whenever we went there, then carefully placed everything in the passenger seat beside me. The watch was tucked safely inside my handbag, and every few minutes, I found myself touching the bag just to make sure it was still there. I smiled as I drove. I could already imagine his face when he opened it. He was going to give me that look he always gave me whenever I spent money on him and say, Zara, you shouldn't have. And I would probably laugh and tell him to stop complaining because it was his birthday. I didn't mind spending money on him. He was my man, and I loved him. Even if my friends didn't agree with me. They had never really liked Marshall. They thought he was feeding off me, especially because he often needed my help with one thing or another. They had pointed out how frequently he asked me for money and how easily I gave it to him, and sometimes they made it sound as though I was being foolish. But I didn't see it that way. When I met Marshall months ago, he was struggling. His business wasn't doing well, he had bills piling up, and there were days when I could tell he was trying to pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. I knew what my friends thought, but none of that mattered to me. We loved each other. That was what mattered. If I had more money than him at the moment, why should it matter who paid for what? I had never believed love was supposed to be a competition. Besides, I liked taking care of the people I loved. I pulled up outside his apartment and checked the time before reaching for the bag. My heart fluttered with anticipation as I stepped out of the car. I imagined him opening the door and looking surprised to see me, then smiling when he saw the food in my hands. I imagined him pulling me into his arms and complaining that I had ignored his instructions to stay away because he was sick. The thought made me laugh softly. I was going to surprise my boyfriend. I climbed the steps to his apartment and knocked twice, shifting the bags in my hands. No answer. I knocked again, this time with my knuckles a little harder against the door. “Marshall?” I called. Still nothing. I frowned. Maybe he had fallen asleep. I reached for the handle and found the door unlocked. I pushed it open slowly, stepping inside with the food and wine still in my hands. “Marshall?” The apartment was quiet. I closed the door behind me and walked farther inside. There was no sign of him in the living room, so I headed toward the kitchen and carefully set the food and wine on the counter. I took my handbag and glanced toward the staircase. “Marshall?” I called again. Then I heard laughter. It was a woman's voice. For a moment, I simply stood there, confused. My mind immediately searched for an innocent explanation. Maybe one of his friends had come over. Maybe someone from work was visiting. Maybe he wasn't actually alone after all. Then I heard Marshall laugh, my smile disappeared, I stared at the stairs. Something cold settled in my stomach.I picked up my handbag and slowly climbed. The laughter became clearer with every step. When I reached the top, I saw that his bedroom door was slightly open. I could hear a woman's voice from inside, followed by Marshall's low laugh. My fingers tightened around the strap of my handbag. “Marshall?” I called softly, there was a brief silence. I pushed the door open. Marshall was in bed with another woman. For a few seconds, my mind refused to understand what my eyes were seeing. I froze. The woman was sitting beside him, the sheets pulled around her, while Marshall stared at me as though he had just seen a ghost. Then he jumped out of bed. “Zara.” I couldn't move, I looked from him to the woman sitting upright in his bed. Unlike Marshall, she didn't look shocked to see me. She looked angry, not embarrassed, not frightened, but angry. My fingers tightened around the strap of my handbag. “Marshall, what's going on?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I looked at the woman again. “Who is she?” The woman turned her eyes toward Marshall. Then she looked back at me. “I'm his girlfriend.” I stared at her. “His what?” Marshall's face darkened. “Stop it, Cindy!” Cindy turned toward him, her expression hardening. “Stop what?” “Oh, you don't want her to know the truth?” Marshall moved toward her. “I said stop.” Cindy let out a bitter laugh and pushed the sheets away as she got out of the bed. “Why?” she asked. “Because you're scared of what she's going to hear?” I stood there, completely confused, my eyes moved between them. Cindy looked at Marshall for a long moment, then shook her head. “I'm done hiding for you, Marshall.” He stared at her. “Cindy, don't do this.” “No. I'm done.” She turned toward me. “Now that you've caught us, Zara, it's over for him.” My heart began pounding. “What do you mean?” Cindy didn't take her eyes off me. “Marshall and I have been together for two years.” The room seemed to tilt. I looked at Marshall, waiting for him to deny it, he didn't. “Two years?” I repeated faintly. Cindy nodded. “You were just a means to an end for him.” Cindy's expression softened for only a second. “I always knew about you.” My breathing became uneven, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Marshall told me about you from the beginning. He told me about your money, your family, your connections. He knew exactly what he could get from you.” Marshall stepped toward her. “Cindy, that's enough.” “No, it's not.” She looked back at me. “You need to know the truth. He was only keeping you around because of what he wanted to get from you.” I stared at Marshall. He looked away. That single movement broke something inside me. My knees suddenly felt weak.I reached for the door frame, trying to steady myself. My heart couldn’t take what I had just heard. All the memories began rushing through my mind at once. Every time Marshall called me because he needed help. Every time he asked me for a huge sum of money. Every time he had promised to pay me back. Every time I told myself it didn't matter because he was struggling and I loved him. I had believed him, and defended him. I had convinced myself that love wasn't supposed to be about who had more money. And now I was standing in his bedroom, listening to another woman tell me that everything I had believed about our relationship had been a lie. Tears filled my eyes. “Marshall,” I whispered. He finally looked at me. “Zara, please listen to me.” I shook my head slowly. “I never meant for you to find out like this.” My lips trembled. “Are you listening to yourself, Marshall?" “Did you ever love me?” The room went silent after my question. His silence was answer enough. A tear slipped down my cheek. I looked down at my handbag, remembering the little velvet box inside. The birthday gift, the watch I had been so excited to give him. My hand trembled as I reached inside and pulled it out. Marshall's eyes fell on the box. “Zara...” I looked at him, then at the gift in my hand. “I came here because I wanted to surprise you.” My voice was almost too soft to hear. “I brought your favorite food and your favorite wine.” I looked down at the box. “And this.” Marshall took a step toward me. “Zara, please.” I shook my head, I didn't have the strength to be angry. I didn't even know how to process what I had just heard. I simply walked over and placed the box on the dresser. “Happy birthday, Marshall.” Then I turned and walked out. I barely remembered making it down the stairs. I barely remembered opening the front door. The tears were falling freely now, and I couldn't stop them. I had walked in to make my boyfriend's birthday special. But I walked out carrying another betrayal.