Dusk painted the sky, and Riverside buzzed awake with its raucous nightlife. At the city’s plushest five-star hotel, a glitzy gala was in full swing, celebrating the fifth wedding anniversary of Rayan Spencer—heir to the legendary Spencer Group—and his wife, Maya Spencer.

Rayan cut a devastating figure in his tailored black suit, sharp jawline and striking features radiating that quiet, effortless power only old money can pull off. Beside him, Maya was every bit his equal: her gown sparkled under the chandeliers, the massive diamond necklace around her throat oozed A-list glamour, and her flawless features paired with sophisticated makeup made her impossible to look away from.

"You actually love these flashy parties? What’s even fun about all this?" Rayan muttered, face completely unreadable.

Maya knew big social events made him uncomfortable. She tucked her hand gently around his arm and smiled up at him. "C’mon. Just get up there, say a quick thank you to everyone, and leave the rest to me. Can you do that much for me?"

"Do I really have to give a speech? What am I even supposed to say?"

"Tell everyone you love me."

"..."

Undeterred, Maya nudged him with a playful little grin. "Honey, it’s our fifth anniversary. I’ve been planning this for three whole months, and you haven’t even kissed me in public once this whole night."

To the guests watching them from across the ballroom, they looked like the perfect couple—silly, in love, bantering like any pair that’s been married five years. Envy, real or performative, rippled through the crowd; everyone couldn’t stop gushing that they were made for each other.

Then Rayan’s phone rang, and the whole mood shattered.

Maya’s stomach dropped straight to her shoes. That bright, cheerful smile slipped right off her face. Rayan glanced at the caller ID, turned his back to her, and answered, "Hello?"

Maya couldn’t make out a single word on the other end, but the tight furrow of his brow said it all. It was probably Elina Guzman again. Ever since she’d waltzed back into town three months ago, she’d had a knack for showing up at the worst possible times.

Sure enough, the second he hung up, Rayan clipped, "I have to go."

Maya tried to stop him, that smile still glued to her face, her voice steady as steel. "Darling. Is anything really more important tonight than our anniversary?"

Rayan hesitated for half a second, his face impossible to read. "It’s urgent. Let go."

Maya felt his unshakable resolve, and she reluctantly loosened her grip. "At least finish the speech, okay? Everyone’s watching. Can’t you just give me this one night, save a little face?"

But Rayan couldn’t wait another second. He wrenched his arm free, didn’t even care that half the room was watching, and walked straight for the exit.

"Rayan!" Maya called out suddenly, her voice ringing sharp and clear over the music. "If you walk out that door, I’m filing for divorce tonight."

Dead silence dropped over the ballroom. Every head snapped toward her. No one could believe those words had actually come out of her mouth. It felt as unreal as walking into a talking dog on the street.

Rayan paused for just one beat. He didn’t even bother to turn around. "Are you serious?"

He kept walking, brisk and unhurried, and Maya felt a deep old wound tear open inside her—one that had been festering quietly for five years, now bleeding out all over the polished marble floor.

The crowd started whispering, gossip curling through the room like smoke.

"What the hell just happened?"

"No idea—are they actually fighting?"

"On their anniversary? Couldn’t they keep this mess behind closed doors? Why air dirty laundry in front of everyone?"

"Rayan bails on his own anniversary dinner… are all those rumors true?"

"It was always a marriage of convenience, wasn’t it? Never any real love. The rift between them was always too big—you can’t force someone to love you."

"Elina’s back in town."

"Well, that explains it then…"

Staring out at a sea of curious, judgmental stares, Maya felt heat creep up her neck—but she forced herself to stay calm. She took a deep breath, fixed that perfect smile back in place, and walked gracefully up to the podium, taking the microphone into her shaking hand.

"Good evening, everyone," she started, steady as anything. "Today is my fifth wedding anniversary, and Rayan and I are so grateful that all of you came out tonight to share this with us and send your well wishes."

Maya hadn’t been born into old money, but five years as a Spencer wife had taught her how to hold onto grace when everything inside you was breaking. No one would have guessed how raw her chest felt just from looking at her.

"And today, it also doubles as my divorce celebration. After tonight, Rayan and I will be going our separate ways. Thank you all for coming, and I wish every single one of you a happy, whole life with your families."

The ballroom went completely still, stunned into silence.

Before anyone could say a word, Maya was already walking out the door.

What was supposed to be an anniversary celebration had morphed into a messy divorce announcement, leaving chaos in its wake.

Maya cruised down the tree-lined streets of Riverside, tears streaming hot and fast down her cheeks. This would be the last time she ever cried for this man. She swore it.

From the day she’d married Rayan, Maya had known exactly what her role was: pay off her family’s crippling debt, and be the good luck charm that pulled Rayan through after that terrible car accident.

That accident had happened when Rayan tried to run off and elope with Elina. By some cruel twist of fate—some might call it destiny—he woke up from his near-death coma three days after he and Maya walked down the aisle. Everyone called her the Spencer family’s miracle.

As the years went by and Rayan made a full recovery, they’d built the public image of the perfect, loving couple. But Maya had felt a thorn in her heart grow sharper and sharper every year. The more she loved him, the more it ached— a constant, throbbing reminder that his heart would never be hers. It belonged to someone else.

And now that Elina was back in his life? It was time to yank that thorn out once and for all.

***

Maya kept driving down Riverside’s Main Street, ignoring the endless, insistent buzzing of her phone in the cup holder. She pressed harder on the gas, speed matching the tornado of emotions churning in her chest.

Her father Gustavo Walker had ridden her marriage to Rayan all the way to the top of the city’s social ladder. He’d never be happy that she’d announced her divorce in front of the whole town. But Maya was done living for everyone but herself. It was time to stop.

Finally, she answered the call. Gustavo’s furious roar burst out of the speaker immediately.

"Maya, what the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t just throw the word divorce around like it’s meaningless! Where are you? You get over to Rayan’s place right now and apologize."

"My Lakeside Mall project is half done! All my deals with Warmlight Investments and Hayworth Projects only exist because of Rayan’s name! If you divorce him, you’ll ruin me!"

Maya stayed quiet. Gustavo realized he’d let his temper get away from him, and softened his tone. "Look, couples fight. You don’t joke about divorce. Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong. I’m your dad, I’m always here for you—you just can’t go through with this divorce."

Listening to her greedy, opportunistic father talk about being there for her made Maya want to laugh until she cried.

Then, out of nowhere, someone darted out from the side of the road.

She slammed on the brakes without thinking.

Screech—

Thud—

"Hello? Who is this?"

Elina’s voice crawled over Maya, coiling in her gut with cold unease. She’d dialed Rayan’s number. Somehow, Elina was the one who picked up. It had all spiraled so alarmingly fast, hadn’t it? First a furtive risky affair, now this—open, unapologetic betrayal. All those bold, shameless love confessions right under her nose.

"Can’t you read the contact name? Didn’t you see it says ‘Beloved Wife’?" Maya bit out. She’d set that label on Rayan’s phone herself.

"Oh, Mrs. Spencer, I answered so fast I didn’t check."

"Ms. Guzman, I fully expected you’d be calling my husband to say your final goodbye. Instead here you are, still clinging tight, aren’t you?" Maya shot back.

For a beat, Elina had nothing to say.

"I’m trying to reach the owner of this phone," Maya said, having zero interest in dragging this conversation out.

Putting on a soft, sympathetic act, Elina murmured, "I’m sorry, Rayan’s tied up right now. Just tell me what you need, I’ll pass the message along."

Tied up. The single word sent a wave of raw nausea rolling through Maya—not the metaphorical kind, actual sickness. Her stomach twisted, her head spun, and she nearly gagged right there on the side of the road.

"I got in a car accident. Tell him to get here now."

Elina’s brain immediately spinning into overdrive. She couldn’t let Maya use an accident to yank Rayan away from her. Faking concern all over again, she asked, "Are you hurt?"

"I’m fine."

"Good to hear. Just call 911 and your insurance. They’ll handle everything. Rayan would tell you the exact same thing."

Maya’s anger blazed white-hot. "I was driving his Bugatti when I crashed into someone. If he doesn’t show up, I’m leaving the scene. No license, I’ve been drinking—he’ll be on the hook for all of it. Next call he gets might be from the cops."

Just like that, the phone was ripped out of Elina’s hand by Rayan.

He’d only caught the tail end of Maya’s threat.

"If he doesn’t get here fast, I’m going to make a full scene—driving without a license, drunk driving, hit and run, whatever it takes. Even if I end up behind bars, I’m dragging him down with me. It won’t just be his reputation that gets ruined. It’ll tarnish this whole damn family for generations…"

Suddenly, Rayan cut her off with a sharp, biting rebuke. "Maya, why do you always have to cause chaos? Why can’t you stop stirring up trouble all the time?"

Maya paused, drawing in a deep, steadying breath.

"Are you coming or not?"

Rayan rubbed at his temples and answered coolly, "Send me your location."

The call cut out. Elina turned to Rayan with an apologetic little smile. "I saw it was Maya calling and I picked up to clear the air, but she’s completely misread what we have going on. I’m so sorry. If it would help, I can talk to her directly."

Rayan shook his head. "When she’s this angry, she won’t listen to a word anyone says. It’s fine. Her temper blows up fast and fades just as quick. Don’t worry about it."

Elina nodded, urging him gently. "You should go. Try to talk it out without fighting, okay?"

Rayan glanced at her, a faint furrow between his brows. "You’re sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?"

"No, just a little medication will take care of it. This pain’s nothing I can’t handle. Go, find Maya."

Rayan sighed, swallowing the unspoken words tangled in his throat before he finally said, "Take care of yourself. There’s a lot I can’t juggle right now. My wife’s sensitive, suspicious… I have to consider her feelings."

The words “my wife” made Elina grind her molars together so hard her jaw ached. Even with the rage roiling under her skin, she put on her sweetest, most gracious smile. "I understand. I panicked after my little crash and forgot my phone charger, the only number I could remember was yours."

Pulling up the location Maya had sent, Rayan’s focus sharpened, urgency pushing all other patience right out the window.

Elina herded him toward the door. "Go on, I’ll call my mom. She’ll be here any minute."

"Alright."

Leaving Elina’s apartment, Rayan hurried straight to the accident scene.

The night was cool, dotted with a light, persistent drizzle. The Bugatti had crumpled into a stone pillar, airbags fully deployed—it was a pretty serious mess.

An older man lay groaning loud and dramatic right in front of the wrecked hood.

Maya stood off to the side, one hand hiked up to hold her dress out of the mud, the other clamped around her phone. "Go ahead, buddy, whine as loud as you want. I’m recording every second of this. Got some nerve picking a rainy day to run a scam, huh? My husband’s on his way. He’s way less nice than I am."

At least for tonight, he was still her husband.

When Rayan pulled up, he got a look at the damage to the Bugatti and his heart skipped a full beat.

Stepping closer, he spotted Maya standing unharmed behind the car, and a flicker of relief eased through his chest.

Even though the rain was light, it was the annoying kind that seeps into your clothes and sticks to your skin, persistent and unrelenting.

Maya stood poised by the side of the road, completely soaked through, hair frizzy from the drizzle, but her composure hadn’t slipped an inch. "Sir, just because you’re lying on the ground doesn’t mean you’re in the right. I could have a concussion, I could drop dead before you even get a settlement, and my husband will sue your whole family into bankruptcy. Do you even know who he is? He’s Rayan Spencer, the CEO that practically runs this whole town…"

She swallowed the last half of her sentence the second she locked eyes with him.

Rayan got out of his car, and Maya’s gaze immediately snagged on a damp splotch on his white button-down, holding a faint, smudged stain.

Could that be lipstick? She’d called right when he was mid-cover-up, hadn’t she?

Ugh. Maya decided right then it was better to get it out instead of letting it fester.

When Rayan walked up to her, Maya lowered her phone, just brushed right past him without making eye contact. "He jumped out in front of me out of nowhere, I swerved to miss him. I’m almost positive I didn’t hit him, but he refuses to move. You handle it. I need a minute—these heels are killing me."

Rayan grumbled to himself—she was right, her temper really did flare that fast.

No one ever found out exactly what Rayan said to the old man. All Maya saw was him slowly pushing himself up, muttering a string of curses under his breath before shuffling off into the rain.

Why do scammers always target her? Did she look that much like an easy mark?

The rain picked up, coming down harder. Rayan did a quick rough check over the Bugatti’s damage before climbing back into the car they’d come in.

Settling into the driver’s seat, he said, "I called 911 and the insurance. They’ll be here any minute."

Maya just snorted in response. It was all the answer he was getting.

Rayan glanced over at her. Her gown from the charity gala earlier that night was still stunningly elegant, the rain and messy hair doing nothing to dim that.

Her injuries—scrapes and dark bruises stood out stark against her pale skin on her arms, her shoulders, her forehead.

Noticing she kept rubbing at the side of her head over and over, he asked, "Are you lightheaded? We can swing by the hospital to get you checked out."

Maya snapped right back, "Just focus on your damn car. Leave me alone."

"Can’t you ever just be civil with me?"

"Sure. When I am, do you even bother to pay attention?"

Silence.

The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Rayan waited a beat before he tried to explain. "Elina got in a little fender bender, she had an asthma attack—she called me, it sounded urgent. Was I just supposed to ignore her?"

Maya Spencer had heard a million excuses in her life, but this one took the damn cake.

"When she had that asthma attack, she didn’t call a doctor. She called you. Are you her prescription or something?"

"…"

"Every time she calls, she practically throws herself at your feet. You’re more convenient than a late-night pizza delivery."

"…" He couldn’t get a word in edgewise against her fiery temper and sharp tongue.

"Out of every person on the planet, she couldn’t find anyone else to call?"

Finally, he fumbled out an explanation: "Her phone died. She borrowed a stranger’s, and she only remembered my number…"

The second the words left his mouth, he knew keeping his mouth shut would’ve been the smarter move.

"Ha!" All Maya could manage was a cold, bitter laugh. Calling him an idiot would be doing him a favor. He didn’t even bother hiding his cheating. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough to hide it anymore. Did he actually expect her to buy such a pathetic lie? The real shock wasn’t how crafty Elina Guzman was—it was how willing he was to be played for a fool.

Maya smiled wryly. "I’m done talking. I already told everyone at the party we’re getting divorced. Tomorrow we’ll meet at the courthouse, sign the papers, and whoever you want to fuck is none of my goddamned business."

"What?" A blue vein throbbed visibly at Rayan Spencer’s temple. "Are you throwing some out-of-control tantrum right now?"

"Aren’t you throwing your dick around out of control?"

Just when the tension between them was about to snap, Gustavo Walker’s call popped up on her phone again, blaring nonstop even when she tried to ignore it.

She couldn’t stand it anymore, so she answered.

The second she hit accept, Gustavo’s screaming rant exploded through the speaker—loud enough for Rayan to hear every word even without turning on the speakerphone.

"Maya, if you dare divorce him, I’ll tell the whole world your real mother’s a raving lunatic! I’ll make sure both of you suffer for this!"

Maya’s mind went white with buzzing static, white-hot rage surging through her like a tidal wave of molten heat.

"You’re the fucking insane one!" she screamed hysterically.

The second the words left her lips, blackness swallowed her whole, and she collapsed, unconscious.

——

The next morning, at the hospital.

Before Maya even opened her eyes, she heard Rayan Spencer’s voice, muffled as he talked quietly across the room.

"It’s just a misunderstanding, Grandma. Maya was just messing with me… She got a little overemotional, got everyone worried for no reason… Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk her down, don’t you worry about it…"

He hung up, then dialed another number, his tone shifting completely into something sharp, stressed, and urgent. "Tell the PR team to monitor all trending topics for the next few days. If any divorce rumor pops up, bury it. Shut anything bad down, no matter what it costs."

Maya slowly opened her eyes, head spinning as she stared up at the sterile white ceiling, only letting her lids lift halfway.

Rayan stood by the window, still wearing the same white shirt and black slacks he’d had on yesterday. The broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs made a perfect, jaw-dropping silhouette. But what always caught Maya’s eye was his neck.

Slender, elegant—even his back view was breathtaking.

After he hung up, Rayan stared at the floor, hands braced on his hips, tapping his toe restlessly against the ground—a dead giveaway he was fighting to keep his cool.

For a second, Maya wondered if announcing their divorce publicly last night had been too impulsive.

"Rayan," a soft voice cut through the quiet of the room, "You left your jacket at my place last night, and it’s freezing this morning, so I brought it over for you."

Of course it was Elina Guzman.

Maya felt a sharp jab of annoyance—no wonder he was only in his shirt. He’d left his jacket over at his little mistress’s place.

Rayan signaled for her to keep her voice down, then stepped to the door. "Why’d you come all the way here? It’s just a jacket, I could’ve had my assistant pick it up."

"I felt so dizzy last night I couldn’t sleep. My mom said I should come to the hospital for a check-up, so I figured I’d drop it off on my way—no trouble at all." She peeked past him into the room, voice dropping to a sympathetic whisper. "How’s Maya doing?"

"Concussion."

"That serious?" Her surprise was as fake as a three-dollar bill. The only thing she regretted was not going harder when she’d messed with Maya the night before.

Mindful of Maya needing rest, Rayan lowered his voice even more. "It’s mild. The doctor said just a few days of rest and she’ll be fine."

"Oh, thank goodness it’s nothing serious. Did you eat breakfast yet, Rayan?"

"I’m waiting for Maya to wake up."

"I figured you’d skip it. My mom made me a sandwich, but I don’t have any appetite, I feel so nauseous. You want it?"

Listening to them chattering away right at her hospital room door, Maya sat bolt upright in bed—straight out of a damn horror movie resurrection.

The sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her, and her stomach rolled instantly.

"Maya’s awake!" Elina was through the door in a heartbeat, no hesitation as she glided over. "Maya, are you feeling any better?"

Maya pressed a hand to her chest, looking like she was two seconds from losing her entire stomach contents.

Elina moved in to steady her, leaning in to whisper just loud enough for Maya to hear: "You’re quite the little actress, aren’t you?"

Maya wasn’t even surprised.

But this wasn’t an act. She was genuinely dizzy. The acid from her stomach was already creeping up her throat.

Rayan noticed how pale she’d gone. "Should I call a doctor?"

"No need," Elina said confidently. "I felt the exact same way last night. Trust me, Maya—just sip some warm water, it’ll help."

The implication hung thick in the air: You can’t fool me.

Elina quickly grabbed the thermos off the bedside table, poured warm water, and held it right up to Maya’s lips.

"Temperature’s perfect, just take a little sip," she insisted, pressing the rim right against Maya’s mouth.

Maya could’ve kept it down if she wanted to—but why would she? She took one tiny sip, and immediately projectile vomited all over Elina.

Elina shrieked, too shocked to shove Maya away. She wanted to curse Maya out so bad, but she couldn’t do that in front of Rayan. She couldn’t even let a single disgusted flicker cross her face. "Maya, are you… okay?"

After emptying her stomach, Maya actually felt a lot better—head clear, eyes sharp. She looked at the vomit covering Elina’s pretty white dress, and offered an innocent apology: "Sorry, I couldn’t hold it. You’re just… so disgusting."

Elina: "…"

Rayan: "…"

Maya wrapped a hand around Elina’s waist, pretending to support her while actually keeping her trapped right where she was.

The half-digested mess was as revolting as it gets, the stench thick enough to choke a horse. The more Maya breathed it in, the more her stomach rolled, and the more she gagged—turns out, the whole thing was way more satisfying than she’d expected.

You make my life hell? I’ll make you wish you never showed your face here.

Elina was frozen solid, her entire chest and stomach soaked, the rancid stench flooding her senses and making her own stomach churn.

A passing nurse heard the commotion and hurried in, froze for a beat when she saw the mess, then turned a reproachful glare on Elina. "Were you giving her water? Didn’t we tell you yesterday the patient can’t eat or drink anything yet? This is totally irresponsible."

Elina looked helplessly over at Rayan.

Rayan: "…"

The whole scene left Rayan stunned, and honestly? Completely helpless.

Eventually, he had to call an orderly to clean up the mess, and texted his assistant to rush over a clean set of women’s clothes for Elina.

Maya lay back on the bed, content as can be, color already creeping back into her cheeks.

Elina was in the bathroom scrubbing the vomit off, the sound of her retching echoing down the hall every few seconds.

Rayan sighed, exasperated. "Was that really necessary?"

Maya lay on the bed, putting on her best innocent, wronged expression. "She forced the water on me. Why didn’t you stop her?"

Rayan: "…"

Wait… this is my fault now?