Betraying My Billionaire Husband-Vincent

Chapter 2: A Hole In His Heart

The pungent smell of disinfectants filled the hospital corridor, and I paced up and down, my mind racing in fear. Dylan, my six-year-old son, lay unconscious in the room behind me, hooked up to machines that beeped steadily.

Finally, the doctor came out. His face was grave, and I hurried toward him.

"Doctor, how is Dylan? What's wrong with my son?" I asked, my voice shaking.

The doctor blew out a heavy sigh; his eyes were sympathetic. "Mrs. Walden, Dylan's condition is serious. He has a congenital heart defect-a hole in his heart."

I felt the world tilt beneath me. My knees almost gave out, and I caught myself against the wall. "A hole in his heart? What does that mean? Can it be fixed?

It's treatable," the doctor said to reassure me. "But he'll need surgery soon. Without it, his condition could worsen rapidly. We'll discuss the procedure in detail, but I recommend we act quickly."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I nodded numbly. "Do whatever it takes to save him," I whispered.

Meanwhile, on another floor of the hospital, Vincent walked beside Maggie, his fiancée. Maggie's heels clicked softly against the tiled floor as she chatted about her grandfather's condition.

"I just hope Grandpa's tests come back clear," Maggie said, looping her arm through Vincent's. "It's so hard seeing him like this.

Vincent nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the image of Jane’s panicked face from earlier that day. A son? He couldn’t stop wondering about the child she’d rushed off to see.

As they approached the elevator, Maggie paused, adjusting her coat. “I’ll go check in with the nurse. Wait here for me?” she asked with a sweet smile.

“Sure,” Vincent replied, leaning against the wall.

I sat beside Dylan's bed, holding his small hand in mine, as the pale color of his face and shallowness of his breathing only seemed to heighten in my helpless heart.

The only thing that registered in my mind was the sound of footsteps approaching the door until I heard a very familiar voice outside.

"Vincent, are you coming or not?"

My heart suddenly stopped. It couldn't be…

The door opened slightly, and I turned just in time to see Vincent's tall frame filling the doorway. He froze when our eyes met.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. His gaze flicked from me to Dylan, who lay unconscious on the bed. Confusion and something deeper-shock, perhaps-crossed his face.

"Jane?" he asked, stepping into the room cautiously. "What… what's going on?

I stiffened, my protective instincts kicking in. "This is not the time, Vincent," I said, my voice trembling but firm.

His eyes stayed on Dylan, then back to me. "Is this your son?" he asked, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

"Yes," I replied shortly, standing up to block his view.

Before he could ask another question, Maggie appeared behind him. "Vincent, what are you—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.

The hospital room was thick with tension when Maggie stepped in, her inquisitive gaze darting between Vincent and me. She looked stunning, her sharp features softened by a polite smile, but her presence felt intrusive in this fragile moment.

"Do you two know each other?" Maggie asked as she looked at Vincent, her tone light yet probing.

Vincent hesitated, his gaze flicking toward me briefly before answering, "Yes. Jane and I were old classmates."

Classmates. The word stung like a fresh wound, but I said nothing.

"I'm Maggie, by the way," she continued, extending her hand toward me. "Vincent's fiancée."

I forced a polite smile and shook her hand, my mind racing.

Maggie's eyes softened as she gazed at Dylan lying on the bed. "Do you need any help? Anything at all?"

I shook my head quickly. "No, thank you. My husband will be here soon."

Vincent's head snapped toward me, his expression sharp. "Husband?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. "You have a husband now?

“Yes,” I replied firmly, keeping my tone steady. I couldn’t let him see how his question unsettled me.

Maggie smiled politely, clearly oblivious to the charged atmosphere. “That’s great. I’m sure he’ll be a big help.”

Vincent didn’t say another word. His jaw tightened, and he turned on his heel, heading toward the door. Maggie glanced at him, confused, before giving me a small nod and following him out.

The two of them walked down the hall as Vincent's mind was racing. A husband? Since when?

"Vincent, are you okay?" Maggie asked, hooking her arm around his.

He forced a smile, but his mind was elsewhere. "I'm fine," he said shortly.

But once inside the elevator, his chest felt heavy. Something about Jane's response didn't quite add up. He had a nagging feeling, Jane is not telling me everything.

First Day, Worst Day.

The morning couldn’t have gone worse. I’d spent the entire night by Dylan’s bedside, ensuring he was stable before leaving the hospital. Exhaustion clung to me like a heavy coat, and I arrived at Cox Corporation nearly an hour late.

The moment I stepped into the office, I felt the weight of a hundred eyes on me. My stomach churned as I hurried toward the orientation room where the other new hires were already gathered.

Vincent stood at the front of the room, exuding authority in his tailored suit. His piercing gaze locked onto me the instant I entered, and I knew I was in trouble.

Miss Walden," he said, his tone cold and razor-sharp. "How very nice of you to join us finally."

The room was silent, every head turned in my direction. Heat climbed up my cheeks as I tried to explain. "Mr. Hamilton, I-

He raised a hand, cutting me off mid-sentence. "I don't care to hear excuses," he said icily. "You're late. That's unacceptable, especially on your first day. Do you think this company runs on your convenience?"

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. "I'm sorry. I had a personal emergency—

Save it," he snarled, his tone making it clear that argumentative responses would not be welcomed. "Personal emergencies are not an excuse to be unprofessional. Let me make one thing clear: if you're late again, that will be your last day here. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," I managed to get out in a voice that could hardly be heard.

He held my gaze a moment longer before he turned to the room. "Let this be a lesson to all of you. At Cox Corporation, we value discipline and punctuality. If you can't handle that, you don't belong here.

I felt the sting of humiliation as I took my seat among the other new employees, who were whispering and stealing glances at me. Under the table, my fists clenched as I willed myself to remain calm.

Vincent continued the orientation, but I didn't hear one word. My mind was in turmoil, mixed between feelings of frustration and embarrassment. He's taking it personal, I thought, more bitter than ever. And he's not going to make my life here easy.

The call for part-time work came just as I was leaving the office. My old friend had reached out, offering me a job for the evening. It was extra income, and with Dylan's medical expenses, I couldn't say no.

"Hello?" I answered as I hurried to catch the bus.

"Jane, I've got a last-minute opening for tonight. Are you interested?"

"Yeah, absolutely," I replied, my eyes lighting up in thankfulness. "I'll be there."

I showed up at the venue, expecting not much. It was some sort of corporate event at a snobby hotel, and I was supposed to just go there, serve drinks, head hung low, and go home. I readjusted my uniform and took a tray of glasses with me into the room.

But fate had other plans.

As I came up to one of the tables, my heart almost stopped. There sat Vincent, every inch the powerful CEO he'd become, along with a woman I recognized as his sister, Leila, and a client he was obviously entertaining.

For a second, I froze, weighing whether I should change direction, but the moment was gone in a second. I couldn't back out now. Shaky-handed, I reached their table.

Just as I was about to place a glass down, Vincent suddenly rose, and my drink splashed over, landing on his suit.

"Oh no," I gasped and fumbled for a napkin.

Vincent's eyes darted to my face, and for a second, he looked utterly shocked. seeing me there as Walter, I thought, my heart racing.

But instead of reacting, he remained eerily calm. He said nothing; his expression unreadable as he reached for a napkin and started blotting his suit.

As I opened my mouth to apologize once more, Leila latched onto my arm.

"Come with me," she snapped, towing me toward the exit. And relief washed over me; she's getting me out of here before Vincent makes a scene, I thought.

But my relief was short-lived. Leila didn't stop at the main exit. Instead, she dragged me to some secluded corner outside the venue, her grip on my arm tightening.

"You thought you could just waltz back into our lives unnoticed?" she hissed. Her face was twisted with anger.

"I'm just doing my job," I stammered.

"Your job?" Leila sneered. "You mean serving drinks to the man you humiliated and destroyed? You think that's okay?"

Her voice escalated further as she spoke. "You're nothing but a baby killer, Jane. You don't even think about what you did to my brother, do you? You ruined his life, and now you sit here playing the victim?

The words slapped me. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but before I could utter a word, Leila grabbed the drink I still held in my hand and dumped it onto me.

"You're pathetic," she spat before storming back inside.

I stood there, soaked and trembling, the weight of her words bearing down on me. Baby killer. The accusation echoed in my mind, dragging me back to the decision I'd made all those years ago.

It was supposed to be a simple evening of work. I only agreed to the part-time job for the extra cash, and I hadn't expected to see Vincent here. Even less did I expect some weird request to be shoved my way at the end of the night.

"Jane, before you can collect your pay, we need you to do something," he said after some hesitation.

"What is it?" I asked warily.

"Mr. Hamilton had too much to drink, and he's refusing to let anyone else take him home. But he specifically mentioned your name."

I froze. Vincent wanted me to take him home? The thought of spending more time with him made my stomach churn, but I needed the money. With Dylan's medical bills piling up, I had no room to refuse.

Reluctantly, I nodded. "Fine. I'll take him home."

I found Vincent slumped in a chair, the haze of alcohol dulling his sharp edges.

"Vincent, let's get you home," I said firmly.

His eyes fluttered open, and he smirked. "Jane. You always know how to make an appearance, don't you?"

I ignored him and helped him to his feet. He leaned on me heavily as I guided him to his car and drove to his penthouse. The tension in the air was suffocating.

Once inside, I helped him to the couch, planning to leave immediately. But just as I turned to go, his voice stopped me.

"Stay," he murmured, his tone almost pleading.

"I can't," I said firmly.

Why not?" he asked, his words slurred but his eyes searching mine. "Jane, please. I don't like seeing you like this. You're not taking care of yourself."

I stiffened. "That's none of your business, Vincent.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, taking out a thick wad of cash. "Here," he said, holding it out to me. "Take this. Take as much as you need. Just. stay for a while."

I stared at the money, my pride warring with my desperation. "I don't want your money," I said through gritted teeth.

Then tell me," he said now, his voice quiet, almost broken. "What happened, Jane? Why did you leave me that night for William?"

I had not expected his question. The raw, anguished vulnerability that laced his voice now was a far cry from the cold, calculating man I had seen a short while ago.

I swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze. "Vincent, you were never enough for me. That's all there is to it," I lied, hoping he would drop the subject.

But he didn't buy it. "Don't lie to me," he said, his voice shaking. "I loved you, Jane. I would've done anything for you. And you threw it all away."

I turned away, my heart racing. "You don't understand," I whispered.

"Then make me understand," he pleaded. "Why did you choose him? Why did you leave me?"

I shook my head, tears threatening to spill. Vincent’s lips brushed against mine, a bittersweet collision of past and present. His kiss was hesitant, filled with longing, but also with pain. It stirred something deep inside me, something I’d buried under years of regret and guilt.

But then my phone buzzed loudly in my pocket, shattering the moment like breaking glass. Vincent pulled back, his eyes flickering to the screen as I fumbled to retrieve the phone. The name on the display made his jaw clench: William.

"Don't pick it," he said softly, his voice trembling. "Please, Jane. Don't choose him again. Not over me. Not this time."

I hesitated, my finger hovering over the screen. The plea in Vincent's voice tugged at me, but William's call brought me back to reality-the life I'd chosen, the mistakes I couldn't undo.

"I have no choice," I whispered, my voice cracking. I answered the call, avoiding Vincent's piercing gaze.

"Jane," William's voice came through the line, sharp and impatient. "Where are you? I need you here in the hospital now.

"I'm on my way," I said low.

With the words, I turned to go, but my steps faltered at the unsaid words hanging in Vincent's voice. "You're going to him?" he asked without inflection, the hurt hidden beneath.

I nodded, not looking at him. "I have to."

"Why?" he asked then, his voice a little louder. "Why do you keep running back to him? What does he have that I don't?"

I stopped at the door, gripping the handle tightly. I said to myself, "It's not about what he has, It's about what I've lost." The secret is kept away from you. the secret behind leaving you 7 years ago