Billionaire's Mistake

The fight

CHAPTER 8

Maya Grayson

I saw Jeremy before he saw me, laughing with two guys by the sculpture display. Black tux, hand in his pocket, that fake charm. He hadn’t changed—not really. Still acting like he owned everything without earning it.

I walked in alone.

As soon as I stepped inside, cameras flashed like I owed them my life. Maybe I did. Maybe tonight, I’d give them something to talk about.

My dress fit tight—dark red, no back, diamonds shining at the waist. Not borrowed or a sponsor’s gift. Mine. The heels? Made just for me, clicking loud on the marble floor, making people look. And they did. That was the plan.

I didn’t come for Jeremy.

This wasn’t planned. Just bad luck putting us in the same place. A fancy art gala in Paris, all shiny floors and sparkling chandeliers, and here I was, stuck in a mess I didn’t want.

Jeremy’s eyes found me as I grabbed a champagne glass from the table. His smile dropped. Perfect.

He walked over slowly, like I might disappear if he moved too fast. “You look… different. Stronger,” he said, trying to laugh, but his voice shook, giving him away.

I didn’t move. “And you’re still you. All show, no heart.”

His jaw tightened, something—anger, maybe hurt—flashing across his face.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” he said quietly, stepping closer, his cologne hitting me like a memory I didn’t want.

“Didn’t need an invite. I like art,” I said back, sipping my drink without looking at him. “Thought tonight was for people who matter.”

He looked me over, searching for a weak spot, and my chest felt tight. My mind spun with old times—late nights in our L.A. mansion, his arm around me, whispering sweet things before it all went wrong. I pushed those thoughts away. That Maya was gone. I was tougher now, built from the mess he and Uriel left.

“You’re getting attention,” he muttered, moving closer, his breath on my cheek.

“No. You are, standing so close. I’m just here, breathing.” My voice stayed steady, but my heart was racing. The crowd noticed—whispers started, eyes stared. A reporter was nearby, pretending not to record.

I looked around, and there she was. Uriel. Green dress, perfect makeup, staring like she wanted me gone. No smile, no act—just hate. My stomach turned. She was my enemy, the one who betrayed me, and seeing her here by chance made my skin crawl. I held the glass tighter, nails digging in.

Jeremy saw where I looked, his face getting hard. The air felt heavy, full of old pain. My pulse sped up—part anger, part that dumb feeling for him I couldn’t shake. He’d hurt me bad, but being near him still stirred something I hated.

The lights dimmed as the auctioneer got on stage, but the real trouble was right here.

Julian walked in.

No big show, no noise. Just him. Black suit, no tie, a watch shining bright. His eyes scanned the crowd. My breath stopped. Who was he to me now?

Jeremy turned, and the shock hit him hard. His face went pale, lips parting slightly as his hand dropped from the glass in disbelief. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then his whole body went tense, his fists clenching tight at his sides, knuckles whitening. A vein in his neck twitched, and his jaw ticked.

Julian—my Julian, the one who left after the wedding, leaving me to deal alone while Jeremy pushed him away—stood there, a ghost Jeremy didn’t expect. I saw it hit: the betrayal, the pain of losing his best friend after I said “I do.” Jeremy’s breath caught, his eyes wide with something real.

“What’s he doing here?” Jeremy snapped, his voice low but sharp. He stepped forward like a lit fuse, every muscle in his frame coiled.

Julian paused mid-step, clearly not expecting this to escalate so fast. His face shifted—surprise, then a flicker of pain, then stone. “Didn’t expect you either,” he said, voice cool, but beneath it, something cracked. His shoulders squared, and he stood taller.

The room began to hush around them. Conversations died. Champagne flutes stilled mid-air. Someone near me whispered, and I caught words like "drama" and "exes". I felt like I was watching a stage collapse—too slow to stop.

Jeremy’s nostrils flared. His eyes never left Julian. “You think you can just show up after ghosting everyone?” he growled, moving forward, chest puffed.

Julian didn’t flinch. “I didn’t ghost. You pushed me out.”

Jeremy grabbed Julian’s lapel, yanking him forward. Gasps rose from the crowd. His fingers were tight, shaking. I could see the sweat on his brow, his teeth grinding, every muscle rigid with fury.

Julian shoved him back hard, breaking his grip. “Don’t touch me,” he snapped. His voice was low, deadly. I saw a storm behind his eyes, quiet but fierce.

“You’re wicked on all sides,” Julian said, his voice cutting through the tension. “I loved her first, and you know it. The boys dared you to test me—go after Maya, prove you could win. You took it too far, married her, and threw me out like trash.”

Jeremy’s face twisted, red creeping up his neck. “You’re lying! It wasn’t a dare—it was fate. You were too weak to hold her!”

“Fate?” Julian laughed, bitter and sharp. “You stole her to win a bet, and now look at you—falling apart because you can’t control her anymore.”

People started pulling out their phones. Flashes lit the corners of the room. The tension was unbearable. My chest was tight. They were circling now, not just with words but with posture—like two wolves. Julian’s fingers flexed at his sides. Jeremy’s mouth curled into a sneer, but his breathing was fast and loud.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Julian said, barely above a whisper, but it carried through the air like thunder.

“This isn’t about her,” Jeremy snapped. “It’s about you being a coward.”

“Then why are you shaking?” Julian stepped in, close. Their faces inches apart, eyes locked in a war of unspoken pain.

Julian’s fist flew first, a hard punch to Jeremy’s jaw. The c***k echoed, and Jeremy stumbled back, blood trickling from his lip. The crowd gasped louder, phones flashing wildly. Julian moved like a beast, relentless, landing another blow to Jeremy’s stomach. Jeremy doubled over, gasping, then swung back, catching Julian’s cheek. But Julian was faster, stronger—his next hit sent Jeremy crashing to the floor, sprawled on the marble, blood smearing the shiny surface.

I rushed forward, tears streaming down my face. “Stop! Please, Julian, stop!” I cried, dropping to my knees beside Jeremy. His eyes were dazed, chest heaving, blood pooling under him. I grabbed his arm, sobbing. “Don’t do this!”

Julian loomed over us, chest heaving, looking wild—eyes dark, fists still clenched, a beast unleashed. Jeremy groaned, helpless on the ground, and I clung to him, begging through my tears, the room spinning around us.