MARRIED TO THE BROKEN BILLIONAIRE

MAYA’S POV The last thing I expected on a Monday morning was to throw hot coffee at a stranger. Unfortunately, that was exactly what happened. “Watch where you’re going!” I snapped. The tall man in front of me looked down at the coffee stain spreading across his expensive white shirt. The crowded café went silent. Wonderful. It's just wonderful. I’d barely slept the night before. My landlord was threatening to raise my rent again. I was already late for work. My boss had sent three messages asking where I was. And now I’d ruined some stranger’s shirt. The man slowly lifted his eyes to mine. He looked rich. Not normal rich. The kind of rich that probably owned the building we were standing in. Dark hair, sharp jaw, expensive watch. And an expression that screamed annoyance. “You bumped into me,” he said calmly. I laughed. Actually laughed. “Oh, really? Is that what happened?” His eyebrows rose. “Yes.” “You walked straight into me.” “No, I didn’t.” “You absolutely did.” The people around us started watching like they’d just bought front-row seats to a boxing match. The man folded his arms. “I was standing still.” I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then, I opened it again. “That’s impossible.” He pointed at the floor. “I was literally waiting for my order.” I looked down. Then around. Then, he realized he wasn’t lying. The embarrassment hit me like a wall. “Oh.” His lips twitched. Just slightly. Like he was trying not to smile. I hated that. “Fine,” I muttered. “Maybe I made a mistake.” “Maybe?” “Don’t push your luck.” He actually laughed this time. The sound surprised me. He didn’t look like someone who laughed often. “Interesting,” he said. “What is?” “You apologize while threatening people.” I rolled my eyes. “Congratulations. You discovered my entire personality.” A few people nearby chuckled. The stranger smiled, and somehow, that annoyed me even more. “Look,” I said. “I said I’m sorry. Let me buy you another coffee.” He glanced at his ruined shirt. “I think we’re past coffee.” “Fine. Dry cleaning.” “Still not enough.” I narrowed my eyes. “Are you trying to scam me?” He laughed again. Definitely rich. It's definitely annoying. “No.” “Good.” I grabbed my bag and turned toward the exit. “Maya.” I froze. Slowly. Very slowly. I turned back. “How do you know my name?” The stranger pointed at the identification card hanging from my neck. I looked down at my work badge. Right. “Forget I asked.” His smile widened. “I’ll try.” I left before I could embarrass myself any further. ************* The moment I hit the sidewalk, I groaned in frustration. My life was a disaster. Twenty-eight years old, working two jobs, barely surviving. Love wasn’t any better, either. Three years ago, I’d dated a guy for almost two years before finding out he had another girlfriend. Before that, there was the boyfriend who borrowed money and vanished. After enough heartbreak, I learned something important: depend on nobody. Especially not men. Life got simpler after that. Lonelier sometimes, but simpler. I was still thinking about that annoying stranger when I got to work. Unfortunately, my day only got worse from there. By lunchtime, my boss had piled extra tasks on my desk. By evening, my landlord had called again. And by six o’clock, I was completely exhausted. All I wanted was to go home. But fate had other plans. When I stepped out of the office building, I saw him again. The coffee guy. He was leaning against a black luxury car. I immediately turned around. Nope. It's not happening. “Maya.” I ignored him. “Maya.” Still ignored him. Then I heard footsteps behind me. A second later, he was standing beside me. “What do you want?” “You’re avoiding me.” “I’m trying to protect my peace.” He laughed. “There it is again.” “What?” “Your personality.” I groaned. “Why are you even here?” He held up a paper bag. I frowned. “What is that?” “An apology.” I blinked. “What?” “You offered to replace my coffee,” he said. “So I replaced yours.” I stared at him for several seconds, then looked inside the bag. It's myfavouritee coffee. The exact brand. The exact flavour. How? “That’s creepy.” He looked offended. “I asked the café staff.” “Oh.” Now I felt stupid again. This man was becoming dangerous for my pride. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “You’re welcome.” An awkward silence fell between us. I expected him to leave. He didn’t. “You know,” he said, “most people would have taken advantage of the situation.” “What situation?” “The shirt.” I shrugged. “I’m not most people.” “No.” His gaze stayed on me. “You’re definitely not.” Something about the way he said it made me uncomfortable. Not in a bad way. In a dangerous way. The kind that reminded me exactly why I avoided men. Especially attractive ones. “Anyway,” I said quickly, “thanks for the coffee.” I started walking away. Then he called out again. “Maya.” I sighed. “What now?” He grinned. “You still don’t know my name.” I stared at him, and it suddenly hit me—despite arguing twice and running into him all day, I had no idea who he was. “Fine,” I said. “What is your name?” Before he could answer, another voice cut through the air. A young woman came running toward him, and she looked furious. Absolutely furious. “There you are!” The stranger looked confused. “Excuse me?” She pointed at him. Then at me. Then back at him again. Tears filled her eyes. My stomach dropped. Oh no. No, no, no. I knew that look. “I can’t believe this!” she shouted. The entire street turned to watch. Phones started appearing. People started recording. The stranger frowned. “I think you’re mistaken….” “Mistaken?” she yelled. “You promised me you weren’t seeing anyone else!” I choked. “What?” The stranger looked horrified. “What?” She pointed directly at me. “Is she the reason?” The crowd’s interest intensified. Cameras kept rolling. And standing in the middle of it all, the stranger slowly looked at me before saying the last thing I expected to hear. “Who exactly do you think I am?”