Claimed By The Billionaire Ceo

End Of What Was

Ariana’s POV

I point at the young man, my voice trembling as I stammer, “You… I have seen you before, at the restaurant, don’t you remember me?” I step slowly toward him, my heart hammering in my chest. He says nothing, only keeps looking at me, his gaze heavy and steady. I stop in front of him, touching my face, pushing my hair back, muttering in my mind, He keeps looking at me like there’s something on my face. Even back then at the restaurant. What is his deal?

Before I can clear my throat to speak, he gently grabs my wrist and leads me outside of the house, through the compound. I say nothing, just follow behind him, my feet moving automatically as my heart races. Once we reach the spot in front of a car, he lets go of my hand and points directly at it. “Here, you need to take responsibility for this,” he says.

My eyes widen, and I point to myself, my voice trembling, “Responsibility? Who should do that? Me?”

He turns slowly toward me, and I take two steps back. “Left some memory of yours somewhere?” he asks. I blink, clutch my bag tightly, and move past him. As I approach the car, the memory of last night floods my mind. I bury my head in shame, the weight of what I did pressing down on me, and mutter under my breath, how could I have been so careless?

This isn’t just some car, it’s a—

I press my lips together, my eyes widening as the weight of what I’ve done hits me. My glance meets his for a split second, panic flaring, before I force a smile so bright it almost blinds him.

I take a slow step toward him, acting cute, stammering, “How… how much will the repair cost?” He leans slightly toward me, hands in his pockets, and whispers into my ear.

I gasp, my shock visible at the price he mentions. I swallow hard and say, almost in a plea, “Ehm… sir, I won’t be able to afford it in one payment, but I can pay in installments if that works.”

He moves closer, standing tall, almost closing the space between us, and smoothly hands me a card from his pocket. “Here. You have two options. Pay me back in full, at once, or come work for me until your debt is settled.”

I lift my head to meet his gaze, my voice trembling as I blurt out, “Sir… I…” The word quivers on my lips, betraying every ounce of my nerves.

****

Hours later, I arrive at Nicholas’s house, the place I once called my home, though not anymore, I say inwardly, rolling my eyes. I shut the entrance door behind me tiredly and halt. My mum, Mrs. Victoria Rodruigaz, who never acknowledged me as her own, sits in the living room. Just wow. Beside her is Clara, and of course, Nicholas.

I greet my mum and start to walk past them toward my room upstairs when Clara suddenly steps in front of me, sniffing me all over. She covers her mouth with her hand like I reek of dirt and says, “Wow! Where were you out having fun?”

I inhale slowly, closing my eyes, holding in the frustration they heap on me, then let it out in a quiet breath. I try to move again, but Clara grabs me tightly and calls Nicholas, “Didn’t you have something to say to Arianaaa?” She draws out my name mockingly.

I don’t want to hear what I already know. I won’t shed another tear for them. I have cried enough, I think, clenching my dress and biting my lips.

Nicholas steps forward with a set of papers in his hand. He doesn’t look at me as he stretches them toward me. My eyes drop to the bold word DIVORCE printed across the top.

“Here,” he says flatly. “Sign them.”

The words hit harder than I expect. No explanation. No hesitation. Just finality.

If I hadn’t overheard them, would this have come out of the blue? Would I still be standing here, signing away my marriage without a single explanation?

Before he can say anything else, I take the papers from him and sign without reading twice. My mum gasps, “That was fast,” while Clara folds her arms, a scoff curling on her lips.

Nicholas finally looks at me then, but there’s nothing in his eyes. And suddenly I see it clearly—the pity he has always had for me, the pity I mistook for love. I blink rapidly, realizing I have just signed away what I thought I could hold on to.

I turn to leave the house, leaving everything I own behind, but my mum stops me. She walks up slowly, her heels clicking on the floor, holding an envelope in her hand. She doesn’t look at me as she tosses it toward me, flaps bursting open.

“You will need this,” she says sharply, her voice like ice. “And don’t show your face to us again.”

There’s no warmth in her eyes, no regret, no apology, only finality. This isn’t generosity. This is control. She doesn’t care what I do with the money, only that I leave.

Clara watches, arms still folded, with a satisfied smirk on her lips. I can feel the mockery in every line of her face. She doesn’t want me to cry, to plead, to beg, she wants me gone, and she’s enjoying it.

The tears I’ve been holding back finally break, streaming down my cheeks. I watch the money fall over me from head to toe, I sniff hard. “Thank you, mother,” I whisper. “I wasn’t your family, but you took me in.”

Even amid the sobs, I kneel to gather the money, murmuring, “And thank you, Clara. Even without asking, I’m saying it to you, for sharing the love meant for one child with me.”

I stand slowly, still holding the envelope, and take a deep breath. I move closer to Nicholas, pause, clean my eyes, then spit out the words I’ve been holding in:

“I would have thanked you, but you’re—”

I deliver a sharp slap across his cheek, sending him groaning to the ground. “You’re such a jerk.”

I turn, walking toward the door with my head high. I slam it behind me, leaving the house, leaving the life I thought I had, leaving the family that never really cared for me. My heart races, thoughts spiraling. I ask myself, But to where am I headed?

Even as I walk away, I feel a strange sense of freedom, painful, yes, but for the first time, I am leaving on my own terms.