Billionaire's Mistake

Close call

MAYA HERBERT

My clothes were scattered across the bed, a jumbled mess of a life I was leaving behind. I folded a sweater, my hands slow, shaky from crying. My face was damp, nose clogged, and I kept sniffing to hold it together. The suitcase sat open, half-packed, as I prepared to walk out of the Herbert mansion for good.

Three years with Jeremy. Three years of hurt, shame, and more hurt. His family never accepted me. They blamed me for his mother’s death—a car accident I wasn’t even near. They had me arrested once, called me a curse, like I brought bad luck just by existing. And Jeremy? He never defended me. Not once. That stung worse than anything. I used to wonder if I was really his wife or just… there. We didn’t even share a bedroom. I stayed downstairs in a chilly guest room while he slept upstairs. He only came to me when he wanted s*x, and even then, it felt empty, like a chore.

I shouldn’t have been surprised about Uriel. My stepsister had always hated me. In high school, she was the popular one, running with rich girls, treating me like I was nothing. She made sure everyone laughed at me. One memory still burns. I was leading a group at a science fair, so proud of our project. I got there early, checked everything. But Uriel and her friends tampered with the gas line in the lab. I didn’t know. I lit the burner, and the room exploded in flames.

The door wouldn’t budge. I had to jump out a second-floor window. Both my legs broke. I can still feel it—crawling through the grass, screaming for help. I looked up, saw Uriel and her crew laughing, taking pictures. No one helped. I dragged myself to the teachers’ office, tears and dirt smeared on my face. Uriel never got caught. She never does.

Slow, sharp clicks of heels snapped me back to the room. I knew it was Uriel before I turned. Her gum-chewing was loud, sloppy, like she wanted me to know she was there. I stopped folding, wiped my eyes with my sleeve, and put a hand on my hip, bracing for her venom.

“Well, look who’s still hanging around,” she said, her voice dripping with fake cheer. “Mrs. Herbert. Or, what, just Maya now?” She laughed, twirling her blonde hair, her red nails flashing.

I took a deep breath before I spat out.

“Thought you’d be sobbing,” I said, “Where’s my husband?” Not that I care.”

She clenched her teeth. “Don’t worry about him,” she went on, stepping closer, patting my shoulder like we were pals. “Jeremy’s drinking. You know, after you killed his baby and ruined his business today. Guy needed a break.”

I knocked her hand off, my voice sharp. “You’re full of it, Uriel. He shouldn’t be drinking! His meeting’s tomorrow. He’s gotta get ready!”

Then I caught myself. Why was I still caring? Jeremy wasn’t mine anymore. I didn’t owe him a thing. Old habits, I guess.

Uriel smirked, mocking. “Why do you care? Jeremy never loved you, Maya. You were a game to him. Some dumb college dare. What, you thought he picked you for love? Wake up.”

My breath hitched. I stared at the floor, my head spinning. A dare? No way. Jeremy and I had real moments—late nights, building his company, quiet laughs. That wasn’t fake. Was it?

“That’s a lie,” I said, my voice slow, trembling. “We loved each other. He still does, somewhere. You’ll pay for this, Uriel. One day, everyone’s gonna see you for what you are.”

She raised her hand to slap me, eyes blazing. I grabbed her wrist, stopping her dead. Her face twisted, shocked.

“You’ll get yours,” I said, low and steady. “Not today, but it’s coming.”

“You won’t ruin me!” she shouted, yanking free. “I worked too hard for Jeremy. You’re not taking him. And don’t forget Dad’s health.” She smirked, crossing her arms. “Wouldn’t want our poor daddy to have any… issues if he founds out about a thing!”

“What’d you say Uriel?”

A slurred voice cut in from the doorway. “Say it again.”

We turned. Jeremy was there, shirt half-open, hair messy, eyes bloodshot. His pants sagged, belt undone. He stumbled toward Uriel, face dark.

“Say it,” he growled, grabbing her arm. “You did it, didn’t you?”

Uriel’s eyes widened, her voice shaky. “Jeremy, what—”

“You sabotaged my presentation,” he muttered, tightening his grip. “You made it look like Maya messed up.”

My heart pounded. Part of me wanted to cheer—he saw her lies. But another part, the part that was done, didn’t care. I was over this.

Uriel stammered, pulling back. “No way, Jeremy! You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying!”

He didn’t let go, staring her down. “You blamed Maya. All this time…”

A new voice, sharp and cold, sliced through the room. “Look at her, playing the victim.”

I spun around. A woman stood in the doorway, older, dressed in a sleek blazer, her eyes hard. I knew her, her tone was pure venom. She glared at me, then at Jeremy.

“She’s always been the snake,” she said, pointing at me. “Thank God you see it now. You’re a mess, Jeremy. Go upstairs, rest. Your new wife’s waiting to make you feel better.”

Jeremy’s grip on Uriel loosened, his eyes flickering between us, confused. Uriel shot the woman a quick look—relief, maybe?—before turning back to Jeremy, all soft and pleading.

I didn’t stick around to see what happened next. I zipped my suitcase, the sound loud in the tense room. “I’m done,” I said, my voice firm. I grabbed the handle, pushed past Uriel, and brushed by the woman’s shoulder. She didn’t move, just stared. I kept going, down the hall.