Chapter 3 Broken Promises
Maya's POV
I sat in the living room in total darkness. The only light came from the screen of my phone, which was still displaying the photo of Lucas, Evelyn, and the child. Every time the screen dimmed, I tapped it to keep the image alive. I needed the reminder. I needed the fuel.
The house felt like a museum—cold, expensive, and empty. For ten years, I had decorated these rooms. I had chosen the art on the walls and the silk for the curtains. I had built a home for a man who was building a life somewhere else.
At 10:45 PM, I heard the familiar sound of his car in the driveway. A few moments later, the front door opened.
Lucas walked in. He looked tired, but he had a small, satisfied smile on his face. He was carrying a small white box from a high-end bakery. Dessert. Just like he promised on the phone.
He didn't see me at first. He walked toward the kitchen, humming a low tune. Then, he stopped. He noticed the silhouette of me sitting on the sofa.
"Maya?" He sounded startled. He flicked the light switch.
The bright overhead lights blinded me for a second, but I didn't blink. I stared straight at him.
"You're late," I said. My voice was a low, steady hum.
Lucas recovered quickly. He put the bakery box on the coffee table and checked his watch. "I know. I'm sorry. The meeting went longer than I expected. But look, I got your favorite—the lemon tart from Pierre’s."
He spoke to me like I was a child who needed to be calmed down.
"How was the meeting, Lucas?" I asked.
"Fine. Boring. Just a lot of numbers and contracts," he said, moving toward the stairs. "I’m going to go change. We can eat the tart in bed."
"Was the meeting at the office?"
He stopped with his foot on the first step. He turned back to look at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Of course. Where else would it be?"
"The receptionist said you left at eight o'clock," I said. "She said you had a private appointment."
Lucas didn't panic. He was a professional liar. He laughed, a light, dismissive sound. "Oh, she must have been mistaken. I was in the conference room on the tenth floor. The lobby staff doesn't always see who stays late."
"And the GPS on your car?" I held up my phone. "It says your car was parked on Willow Street for an hour and a half. That’s a long way from the office, Lucas."
The smile finally vanished from his face. He stepped away from the stairs and walked back into the living room. He didn't look guilty; he looked annoyed.
"Are you tracking me now, Maya? Really? This is what ten years of marriage comes down to? You spying on me like a jealous teenager?"
"I wasn't spying," I said, standing up. "I was looking for my husband on our anniversary. And I found him."
I turned the phone screen toward him. The photo was bright and clear. Lucas holding the girl. Evelyn standing by his side.
Lucas went very still. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the mantle.
"I saw you, Lucas," I said. "I saw Evelyn. I saw the child. I heard her call you Daddy."
Lucas didn't deny it. He didn't apologize. He didn't fall to his knees. He simply sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"So, you know," he said. His voice was cold. The "loving husband" mask was gone.
"Is that all you have to say?" I felt a surge of heat in my chest. "You have a six-year-old daughter! You’ve been lying to me for years! Every time we talked about having kids, every time you said we should wait for the business to grow... you already had a child with the woman who photographed our wedding!"
"Lower your voice," Lucas snapped. "Don't be hysterical."
"Hysterical?" I shouted. "I have been the perfect wife! I helped you build Vale Holdings! I managed your reputation! I gave you my youth! And you were playing house with another woman!"
Lucas stepped closer to me. He was taller than me, and he used his height to try and intimidate me. "Let’s be honest, Maya. You couldn't give me what I wanted. We tried for years. You were always stressed, always focused on work. Evelyn gave me a real family. She gave me Sophie."
I felt like he had slapped me. "We tried because I thought we were a team! I didn't know you were already done with me!"
"I wasn't done with you," he said calmly. "You were useful. You're great at your job, Maya. You made me look good. You made the company look stable. But a man like me needs an heir. He needs a legacy. You couldn't provide that."
He was gaslighting me. He was trying to make his betrayal my fault.
"I'm not useful to you anymore," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "I’m done, Lucas. I want a divorce. I’m going to tell everyone the truth. I'm going to tell your board of directors. I’m going to tell the press."
Lucas laughed. It was a cruel, sharp sound. "You think you can ruin me? Look at your phone again, Maya."
"What?"
"Check the news," he said.
I opened my browser. My hands were finally shaking now. A headline was already at the top of the local business news: VALE HOLDINGS CEO ANNOUNCES DIVORCE: MENTION OF WIFE’S MENTAL INSTABILITY.
The article was written by a journalist I knew—someone Lucas had on his payroll. It described me as a woman who had struggled with "emotional issues" and "fertility struggles" that had put a strain on the marriage. It made Lucas look like a long-suffering husband who was finally walking away for his own peace of mind.
"You... you already leaked it?" I whispered.
"I’m a businessman, Maya. I always have a backup plan," Lucas said. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder. He tossed it onto the coffee table next to the lemon tart. "These are the divorce papers. I’ve already signed them. The terms are simple. You get a small settlement, and you keep your little boutique events company. In exchange, you stay quiet."
I looked at the papers. "A small settlement? I built half of this company!"
"On paper, it’s all mine," Lucas said. "And after that news story hits the morning papers, nobody is going to believe a word you say. You’ll just look like a bitter, unstable ex-wife trying to get revenge."
He walked toward the stairs again. "Sign the papers, Maya. Move out by the weekend. Don't make this ugly. You’ve already lost."
He went upstairs and closed the bedroom door.
I stood in the middle of our beautiful, expensive living room. I looked at the divorce papers. I looked at the lemon tart.
He thought he had won. He thought he had erased ten years of my life with one news article and a folder of legal documents.
I picked up the lemon tart box and threw it against the wall. The yellow cream smeared across the white wallpaper.
"I haven't lost," I whispered to the empty room. "I’m just getting started."
I picked up my phone and called the one person Lucas feared more than anyone else. My brother, Damien. He answered on the first ring.
"Maya? It's late. Is everything okay?"
"No," I said, looking at the smear on the wall. "I need you to call your investors. We’re going to burn Vale Holdings to the ground."
