Maya's POV

I lifted my chin, Selina is there beside Mason, in a romantic posture.

“How do you sleep at night, Selina, with all that evil sitting on your chest like a stone?”

She laughed soft, delighted. “Easily. Because I finally stopped pretending to be the good girl who waits for her turn”

I looked past her to Mason. He hadn’t moved from behind the desk. He watched us like a spectator at a mildly interesting tennis match.

“I know,” I said quietly, addressing them both. “I know about the affair. I know she’s two months pregnant, like the doctor told you in the boardroom when you thought no one was listening. I heard the kiss. I heard the promises. I heard everything…..”

Selina’s smile faltered for half a heartbeat.

Mason’s expression didn’t change at all.

“Today,” I continued, forcing each word past the knot in my throat, “was supposed to be our eighth anniversary. Eight years of trying. Eight years of hoping you’d wake up one morning and choose me anyway. But you’re right, this is the perfect day to end it. Just the way it began: cold, calculated, on paper…”

I drew a slow breath.

“I’m filing for divorce. And I'm taking everything I've invested, my family's investments with it.”

Mason tilted his head. Then slowly, deliberately he smiled.

Not a warm smile. Not a relieved one.

An evil one. The kind that belongs in boardrooms when someone realizes they’ve already lost before the game even started.

“You’re adorable,” he said. “But you’re too late…..”

Ice slid down my spine.

“What?”

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers interlaced. Casual. In control.

“You’re already divorced, Maya.”

The room tilted.

I gripped the edge of the nearest chair to keep from swaying. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh, it is.” He reached into the top drawer and pulled out a slim folder, cream-colored, official-looking…..

He slid it across the polished wood toward me. “Take a look. Page seven. Your signature. Dated two years ago.”

My hand moved before my brain caught up. I flipped the folder open.

There it was.

A decree of dissolution of marriage. Decree absolute. My name. His name. My signature looping, familiar, the same one I’d used on every contract for the last decade.

But I didn’t remember signing this…..

My eyes flew to the date.

Two years ago.

The Maldives.

Our so-called anniversary trip. The one he’d insisted on private villa, no staff, no distractions. He’d brought paperwork “for the new Singapore joint venture.” Said it was urgent. Said I could sign while he poured champagne. I’d been tired, jet-lagged, still raw from another failed round of IVF. I’d skimmed. I’d trusted.

I’d signed.

“You tricked me,” I whispered.

Mason shrugged. “You signed without reading. That’s not a trick. That’s negligence.”

Rage….white-hot, blinding, flooded every vein.

“You forged the circumstances. You lied about what the document was.”

“Prove it.” His voice was velvet over steel. “Go ahead. Drag this through court. Spend years and millions proving I misled you about one signature among hundreds you’ve placed over the years. By the time you’re done, the child will be walking. And you’ll still be the ex-wife who couldn’t be bothered to read what she was signing. And thanks for signing everything you worked hard for away.”

Selina stepped beside him, slipping her hand into his. A united front.

I stared at them, my husband and my best friend, now ex-husband and soon-to-be replacement, standing there like they’d won the lottery and I was the losing ticket.

“You planned this,” I said slowly. “All of it. The pregnancy….. The project coordinator switch. The divorce papers. You waited until I was broken enough to trust you with anything.”

Mason didn’t deny it.

He simply smiled again, that same cold, victorious curve.

“Happy anniversary, Maya,” he said softly. “You’re free now. No more boring wife. No more obligation. You can go find someone who actually wants you…..”

I looked down at the papers. My signature stared back at me like a betrayal carved in ink.

Then I looked up at them.

Something inside me shifted, not broke, not shattered.

Settled.

Like the last piece of a long, ugly puzzle finally clicking into place.

I closed the folder. Gently. Precisely.

“You think this ends it?” I asked, voice steady for the first time in days.

Neither of them answered.

I turned toward the door.

“Enjoy the empire,” I said over my shoulder. “Enjoy the baby. Enjoy each other. But remember this: you didn’t win because you were smarter.

Maya’s POV

The air in Mason’s office thickened the second I turned back toward the door. Selina moved first quick, theatrical reaching out as if to grab my arm in some mockery of concern.

“Maya, wait……”

Her fingers brushed my sleeve.

I reacted on instinct. A small, sharp push just enough to create space. My palm connected with her shoulder, nothing violent, nothing that should have mattered.

But Selina staggered backward like I’d shoved her with both hands. Her heel caught on the edge of the rug. She went down hard, arms windmilling, a dramatic gasp tearing from her throat as she landed on her side, one hand flying protectively to her stomach.

The performance was flawless.

Mason was out of his chair in an instant, face contorted with fury.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he roared, rounding the desk so fast the chair spun behind him. “You just assaulted a pregnant woman!”

I stared down at Selina. She was already curling into herself, eyes wide and glistening, lips trembling for maximum effect. Not a single tear had fallen yet, but the promise of them was there, poised, ready to spill the moment an audience arrived.

“She pushed me,” Selina whimpered, voice small and broken. “Mason, she pushed me…”

I didn’t bother defending myself. What was the point? They’d already written the script.

Mason loomed over me, veins standing out in his neck. “If anything happens to her, if anything happens to our baby, I will bury you, Maya.

Do you hear me? I will sue you into the ground. Assault, attempted harm to an unborn child, emotional distress, every charge I can throw at you. You’ll lose everything, the little pinnut you have. Everything.”

His words hit like bullets, but they didn’t pierce. Not anymore.

I met his gaze without flinching. “You already took everything worth having.”

The door burst open before he could reply.

Two security officers and a company medic rushed in, someone must have hit the emergency button. The medic dropped to his knees beside Selina, speaking in calm, practiced tones while checking her pulse, asking questions. Selina played her part perfectly: soft sobs, trembling hands, whispered fears about the baby.

They lifted her onto a stretcher with exaggerated care. As they wheeled her past me, she lifted her head just enough to meet my eyes.

The look she gave me wasn’t pain.

It was triumph.

They disappeared down the corridor toward the private elevator that led straight to the executive ambulance bay.

Mason didn’t follow immediately. He stayed, staring at me like I was something dangerous he’d finally cornered.

“Get out of my office,” he said through clenched teeth. “And get out of my building. You’re done here.”

I didn’t argue.

I walked past him, past the desk where our wedding photo still sat in its silver frame like a cruel joke and out into the hallway.

The executive floor had turned into a stage.

Colleagues lingered near their desks, pretending to work while stealing glances. Whispers followed me like smoke.

“…..heard she pushed Selina right in front of Mason..…”

“…..poor Selina….four months along and that woman just attacked her..…”

“..…they look so good together, don’t they? Always did. She’s so much warmer than Maya ever was..…”

“..…he’s finally free of that ice queen..…”

I kept my head high, steps even. Let them talk. Let them rewrite history. I’d spent eight years being the perfect, invisible wife. One more afternoon of gossip wouldn’t break what was already shattered.

I reached my office, still technically mine for the next few minutes, and closed the door behind me.

Silence.

I moved quickly. Laptop into the leather tote. Personal files, nothing company-related into a small box. A framed photo of my parents on their thirtieth anniversary went in last. I left the company-issued everything exactly where it was.

On the desk, I placed a single cream envelope.

My resignation.

I’d typed it in the dark last night, after the hallway confrontation. Clean. Professional. Effective immediately.

I sealed it.

Then I walked back into the hallway.

Mason was there, waiting, arms crossed, expression carved from stone. A small crowd had gathered at a respectful distance, phones discreetly angled.

He spoke first. Loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Maya Mason, due to gross misconduct in the workplace, assault on a colleague….you are hereby terminated. Effective immediately. Security will escort you out.”

I stopped a few feet away.

Then I smiled.

Small. Calm. Final.

“No need to fire me, Mason.” I held up the envelope. “I quit.”

I extended my hand. He took the envelope automatically, brow furrowing.

Before he could speak, I lifted my left hand.

The diamond caught the overhead lights, one last flash of what used to mean forever.

I slid the wedding band and engagement ring off together. They came easily, as though they’d been waiting for this moment.

I let them fall.

They hit the marble floor with two sharp, musical pings, tiny sounds that somehow echoed louder than his threats.

The hallway went deathly quiet.

I looked straight into his eyes.

“I’ve been embarrassed long enough,” I said, voice clear and steady. “Eight years of giving everything, my loyalty, my body, my dreams, my dignity. And all I got in return was betrayal. Not just from you. From the woman I called my sister since we were children”

I took one step back.

“You wanted me gone? Congratulations. I’m gone.”

I turned.

I didn’t look back.

Not at Mason.

Not at the rings glinting on the floor like discarded coins.

Not at the colleagues who’d already chosen their side.

My heels clicked down the corridor, steady, unhurried.

The elevator doors opened the moment I pressed the button.

I stepped inside.

As the doors slid closed, I caught one final glimpse of Mason, still holding the envelope, staring at the place where the rings lay like evidence of a crime he’d committed without remorse.

The doors sealed.

The car began its descent.

And for the first time in eight years, the weight on my chest lifted.

Not because the pain was gone.

But because I’d finally stopped carrying theirs.

They thought they’d won.

They had no idea the real game was only just beginning.