Betraying My Billionaire Husband-Vincent

I never imagined my choices would lead me here, standing on the other side of the kitchen is the man I vowed to love forever. Vincent Hamilton, my husband, was a man of unwavering optimism, clinging to dreams that never seemed to materialize. He believed in his startup as if it were the answer to all our problems. On the other hand, I had lost faith long ago. Last night, everything changed. It began with a moment of heat that I shouldn't have indulged in. While Vincent was to work late, I lay in our marital bed with another man-a decision born from resentment and frustration. The creak in the bedroom door had been so soft that I barely heard it, and when I looked back over my shoulder, I could have sworn I saw a shadow retreating. But it couldn't have been him. Could it? This morning, Vincent stood by the stove, humming softly as he prepared breakfast. The smell of eggs and coffee filled the kitchen, but I couldn't stomach it. He acted like everything was normal. Like he hadn't seen anything. "Good morning honey," he said, his tone gentle, almost too gentle. "Come join me. I made your favorite." I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against the doorframe. My heart was racing as I made myself look into his serene eyes. "I know you saw me." His hand stilled mid-stir, but his expression didn't change. "Saw what?" "Don't do that," I said, my tone whiplash-sharp. "Don't pretend. You came home last night. You saw everything. Just admit it, divorce me already. He laid the spatula down and turned to face me fully. "Jane, let's sit and talk about this. Please, don't—" "No!" I cut him off, my voice rising. "Stop pretending like we can fix this. You should've said something, Vincent. You should've confronted me. But instead, you're here making breakfast, acting like nothing happened. Do you think that's normal? That's pathetic! He flinched but composed himself quickly, his voice neutral. "I didn't say anything because I did not want to lose you. We can work through this-" I gave a bitter laugh. "Work through this? Vincent, we are beyond saving. I want a divorce. I will attend to everything. Let us go to the courthouse tomorrow and get it over with. His eyes flashed dark with hurt, but his voice remained maddeningly composed. "Jane, wait. Why are you doing this? What did I do to deserve this? My fists were clenched, and words came tumbling out. "Because my parents were right. You don't deserve me or my family's fortune. I can't trust you not to squander every penny on your stupid tech startup. It's been three years, Vincent. Three years of nothing! He took one step closer, his tone soft but firm. "I got a big meeting tonight; an investor who believes in me. This can change everything for us, Jane. Just give me a bit more time. I shook my head, my anger boiling over. “Enough of your empty promises! I’m not bringing my son into this world just to watch his father blow all my life savings on a pipe dream that’s never going to work.” His face went pale, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re. pregnant?” A spark of hope flickered in his eyes, and it was like someone had twisted the knife in my chest. "Not anymore," I said coldly, stepping back as he reached for me. "I got rid of it." The words just seemed to hang in the air like a death sentence. His voice broke. "What do you mean, you got rid of it? Jane, how could you do that? How could you just get rid of our baby? I met his gaze with cold defiance. "It was the best decision I've made since marrying a loser like you. I could never give my child a father as pathetic as you." The pain on his face was unmistakable, but he didn't raise his voice. Instead, he turned away, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of my words had finally broken him. I silently left the kitchen, having nothing more to say, with my heart thumping hard in my chest. The next day. The rain came down in sheets as we left the courthouse, the rumble of thunder loud in the air. My heart was numb, my mind already removed from everything that had just taken place. Divorce papers were signed, and Vincent had agreed to it all without a fight—except for the one thing that really mattered: letting go. I find Vincent standing under the steps to the courthouse, soaked, his suit clinging to him, it seems, for dear life. He is small and weak, and I would hardly recognize him as that man I once knew. The man I once knew had been replaced by the shell of regret and desperation. I could hardly glance at him; the image of his hurt expression cut through me like a knife, but I didn't stop. I didn't want to feel. Not now. Not when I was finally free. As I reached for the car door handle, Vincent called out to me. "Jane, Jane, please, listen to me." His voice crackled with his desperate eyes wide. "Please, just listen to me. Please, don't leave me like this. Remember. We made a vow. We said we'd go through everything together. Please, don't walk away." For a moment, I froze. Then, in an instance, the fire of my anger rose once more and hotter than before. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. I turned to face him; the weight of my words hung heavy in the air between us. "Face them yourself, Vincent. I don't want to be stuck with you when you crash and burn. And with that, I pulled the ring from my finger, which had represented each broken promise and every vow he had broken, and flung it at his feet. I caught my breath in my chest as I climbed into the car and slammed the door shut. I was able to see him as we pulled away, helpless in the rain, from the rearview mirror. I could hear his voice pleading with me, but wasn't able to make out the words. "Please. Jane. Please don't leave me." The words were there, barely above a broken whisper lost beneath the sound of the rain pounding on the window seals. I looked ahead, trying to block the twists of my heart, but as the car turned onto the main road, I couldn't refrain from looking back. And there he was, still standing, his shoulders trembling while sinking to his knees. My chest grew heavy, something I couldn't put into words-anguish, guilt, perhaps all that weight. But then again, I didn't hang on to it too hard. I instructed the driver to stop. The car rolled to a stop, and I got out in silence, heading for him. Rain drenched my clothes, but that was of little concern to me. Vincent finally looked up at me with eyes wide and full of hope, as if somehow I might reconsider and take him back. But I was no longer that woman. I reached into my pocket and fished out a handful of bills from my wallet. Without much further ado, I tossed them at him and watched the papers scatter through the breeze. "Here," I said, with an undertone of finality to my voice. "Take this. Maybe it'll help you get back on your feet-since that's all you've ever cared about." He had crumpled to try and pick the bills from the wet pavement, fingers shaking. His shame was mirrored in his gaze. I leaned closer-my face cold-and then just one final insult could burst from my lips. "You are not worth one dime, Vincent. And you never were." In a pivot of heels, I made towards the car, blotted out his sobbing voice into the surrounding silence. As the car sped away, I let myself feel the release. The freedom. It was done. Vincent Hamilton was a part of my past now, and I had made sure he'd never forget it. 7 YEARS LATER It had been seven years since I'd left everything behind-my life, my marriage, my mistakes. I thought I'd buried it all. After spending years abroad building a new life, I returned home, ready to begin again. The day started like any other. I dressed in my sharpest business attire, prepared my resume, and made my way to Cox Corporation, one of the most prestigious companies in the country. It was my dream job, and I was confident I had everything they needed. I clutched my coffee in one hand and my portfolio in the other as I approached the receptionist to submit my recommendation letter. Everything seemed normal—until I was called in for the interview. As I stepped into the sleek, modern office, my confidence faltered. Behind the large mahogany desk sat a man I thought I'd never see again. Vincent Hamilton. The air seemed to siphon, and my heart raced as if it might burst out of my chest. He had changed in ways I could barely comprehend. Gone was the desperate, broken man I had left in the rain. In his place sat the youngest billionaire CEO in the country, exuding power and confidence. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, and the way he held himself spoke of authority that could silence a room. My hand shook, and my coffee slipped from my grasp, spilling onto my legs. I hardly felt the burn seeping through my skirt. Vincent's dark eyes locked with mine, and his lips curled into a small, sardonic smile. "Jane," he said, his voice smooth but icy. "Long time, no see. I turned to leave; panic was rising like a tidal wave. I couldn't do this. I couldn't face him. Not here. Not like this. But before I could take one step, his voice sliced through the room like a whip. "Don't you dare move an inch." I froze, my hand clenching the doorknob. "If you walk out of this room," he added, his voice low, even, and dangerous, "I'll make sure no one hires you in this city. Ever." I turned back slowly, my breath shallow. His gaze was keen, unyielding, as if daring me to challenge him. "You wanted this interview," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now you've got it. Sit down." I hesitated, every fiber of my being screaming at me to run. But the weight of his words held me in place. I had worked too hard to throw it all away now. I moved cautiously to the chair across from him, my legs trembling as I sat. He watched me with a look I couldn't decipher-part amusement, part something darker. "I must admit," Vincent started, steepling his fingers, "I didn't expect to see you again, and certainly not here, looking for a job." I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. "I didn't know you were the CEO," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Oh, I'm sure you didn't," he said, heavy on the sarcasm. "What brings you back, Jane? Didn't you say I'd crash and burn? That I wasn't worth a dime?" I winced at the memory, my cheeks burning. He hadn't forgotten. Of course, he hadn't. "Things change," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Indeed, they do." There was silence between us, heavy and suffocating. I could feel the weight of his gaze, boring into me, cutting through the facade I had carefully built through the years. "Well," he finally said, his voice clipped. "Shall we proceed with the interview? I'd hate to waste your time." “You have the job. No need for an interview,” Vincent said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that unsettled me. Before his words could fully register, my phone began to ring from inside my bag. “Excuse me,” I said hastily, fishing it out. I glanced at the screen—it was from home. “Hello?” I answered. A panicked voice erupted on the other end. "Ma'am, you need to come home immediately. It is your son—he has just fainted!" I heard my heart stop. "What? My son?" I virtually shouted, getting quickly up that my chair protested on the floor. "I'm coming home right now!" Vincent's eyebrows arched in surprise, leaning forward, his gaze keen and inquisitive. "Your son?" the echo of his tone laced with disbelief. I didn't have time to explain, nor did I want to. I shoved my phone back into my bag and snatched my portfolio, frantic. "I have to go," I said shortly, hardly looking at him. "I'll resume work tomorrow." Vincent's face was unreadable for a moment, but then he gave a curt nod. "That's right. Go handle your… situation. I didn't stay to hear anything else. I ran out of the office, my mind filled with worry for my son. As I left, Vincent sat back in his chair, his mind churning. Her son? The words echoed in his head. Jane had a child? Was she married? Or was she raising a child alone?