Chapter 5: Humiliation price
1465 Words
Maya sat at her office desk, eyes fixed on her laptop screen. The numbers were going up. For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t staring at losses.
“Another booking came in,” her assistant, Clara, said, stepping in with a bright smile. “That’s the third one today. Two corporate clients and a wedding inquiry.”
Maya blinked, trying not to sound surprised. “They actually went through with it?”
Clara nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am. One of them said they wanted to ‘support women like you.’ I think they saw that interview you did last month about charity events.”
Maya leaned back in her chair. “Pity bookings,” she muttered under her breath.
Clara frowned. “Does it matter? Business is business. You deserve it.”
Maya forced a small smile. “You’re right. Let’s take it.”
Clara hesitated at the door. “Also, Tessa called twice. Said it’s urgent.”
Maya sighed, rubbing her temples. “Tell her I’ll call back in ten minutes.”
The office felt different lately — quieter but busy. Her staff avoided bringing up the scandal. They acted overly polite, like walking on glass. Maya pretended not to notice.
She opened her phone to check social media. Her name was trending again. A headline flashed: “Lucas Vale’s Ex-Wife Finds Success — But Is It Just Sympathy?”
She stared at it for a long time, her chest tightening. The comments were mixed.
> At least she’s not crying on live TV.
She’s probably loving the attention.
I heard she’s unstable, poor Lucas had to put up with her.
Her throat felt dry. “Unstable,” she whispered to herself. “They really believe that.”
The office door opened again. Tessa slipped in, her hair messy, phone in hand. “You’re reading comments again, aren’t you?” she asked.
Maya didn’t answer. “What’s urgent?”
Tessa took a seat across from her. “So, listen—there’s this blogger, ‘TeaRoomQueen,’ posting nasty stuff. Saying you bribed clients, that Damien is bankrolling your ‘fake success.’”
Maya’s jaw tightened. “And you’re telling me this now?”
“I only found out an hour ago!” Tessa said quickly. “They even leaked your charity budget from last year. Said you inflated numbers.”
Maya turned her laptop toward her. “See this? That’s what Evelyn’s doing. She’s behind it.”
Tessa frowned. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Maya snapped. “Who else benefits from this kind of mess?”
Tessa sighed, twirling her phone nervously. “You need to fight back.”
“And say what?” Maya asked. “That the mistress is bullying me online? I’ll look pathetic.”
Tessa stayed quiet for a moment. “I’m going on a morning talk show tomorrow. I could defend you.”
Maya’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t. You’ll make it worse.”
But Tessa just smiled faintly. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
The next day, Clara walked in with Maya's tab
“Ma’am, it’s starting,” she said. “The interview.”
Maya hesitated before turning up the volume on her phone. Tessa appeared on the screen, sitting across from a host who looked too curious for comfort.
“So, Tessa,” the host began, “you’re Maya Hart’s best friend. What’s she really like behind the scenes?”
Tessa laughed nervously. “Maya’s strong. She’s… coping. It’s not easy being publicly humiliated like that.”
The host leaned forward. “Some people say she’s only successful because her brother and other investors pity her. Any truth to that?”
Tessa hesitated. “Well… Damien does help her out sometimes, but Maya works hard too.”
The host grinned. “So she is getting help?”
Tessa stammered, “I mean—everyone gets help at some point—”
Maya’s stomach sank. “Oh no.”
The rest of the interview spiraled from there. The headlines came out within an hour:
“Maya Hart’s Comeback Built on Pity and Family Money!”
She slammed her phone on the table. Clara jumped.
“Are you okay?” Clara asked softly.
Maya looked up, her voice shaking. “Do I look okay?”
Clara bit her lip. “Should I—should I cancel your afternoon meetings?”
“No,” Maya said. “Keep them. If I start hiding now, they win.”
By the time she was done, Maya was exhausted. Every call she took felt like walking through fire. Some clients congratulated her “for staying strong.” Others sounded awkward, as if talking to a scandal.
When everyone finally left, she sat alone in her office. The light from the city poured through the glass walls. She rested her head on her arms, whispering to herself.
“Maybe I should just stop trying.”
Her phone buzzed again — Damien.
She almost didn’t answer, but he would keep calling.
“Maya,” his voice boomed through the speaker, “what the hell is this? Did you see the news?”
She sighed. “I did. I’m tired, Damien.”
“I told you to keep that friend of yours off TV,” he growled. “You don’t need anyone speaking for you.”
“She meant well,” Maya said quietly.
“Well, she didn’t help,” he shot back. “And that Evelyn woman — she’s behind this. My people traced the payment to that blogger’s account.”
Maya sat up. “You traced it?”
“Of course I did,” he said. “Do you think I’m going to sit back while some low-rent mistress drags your name?”
She didn’t answer. Her throat felt tight again. “I don’t want any drama, Damien. I just want peace.”
He went silent for a moment. “You won’t get peace until you stop letting them walk over you.”
“Damien—”
“No,” he interrupted. “I’m pulling a few strings. That deal Lucas signed last month? The one that depends on my funding? I’m taking it back.”
Maya frowned. “Don’t. That’s business.”
“That’s family,” Damien snapped. “You’re my sister. He made you a joke. Now, I’ll warn him.”
“Damien—please,” she whispered. “You’ll make it worse.”
“You let me worry about that,” he said, voice softer now. “Just focus on standing tall. You deserve better than this.”
He hung up before she could reply.
Maya stared at her phone. Her chest ached. She didn’t want revenge — she just wanted her life back. But maybe that wasn’t possible anymore.
Clara knocked softly again. “You should go home, ma’am.”
“Yeah,” Maya murmured, grabbing her bag. “I will.”
She walked out of the building slowly, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Outside, the air was cool. The city lights blurred as tears filled her eyes.
Her phone buzzed again — dozens of notifications. Comments, tags, messages. She didn’t open them. She didn’t want to see her name again.
She crossed the street toward the parking lot, lost in thought, when she heard a voice.
“Maya.”
She stopped and turned. A man stepped out from the shadows near the gate. Tall, calm, hands in his pockets. The streetlight hit his face — Adrian Vale.
Her chest tightened. “What are you doing here?”
He walked closer, his tone steady. “Watching.”
“For what?” she asked bitterly. “To report back to your cousin?”
His expression didn’t change. “No. I’m not him.”
She scoffed. “You have his last name.”
“And I’m trying to clean what he’s stained,” Adrian said quietly. “You’ve been holding it all in, pretending you’re okay. But I can tell—you’re far from done.”
Maya looked away. “I don’t need your pity.”
He took another step closer, voice low. “It’s not a pity. It’s respect. And maybe something else.”
She blinked, unsure what to say.
Adrian’s eyes softened, but his voice hardened again. “If Lucas thinks you’re done, he’s wrong. This is where we begin.”
The way he said it — calm, sure — sent a strange chill through her.
Maya didn’t reply. She just looked at him, eyes tired but alive again for the first time in weeks.
Adrian meets her gaze steadily, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“Go home, Maya,” he said. “Tomorrow, we start taking back what’s yours.”
And for the first time, she didn’t argue.
- Writer
