This time, it wasn’t just Elina Guzman spinning lies.

A sudden fire ripped through the Spencer Group’s Alpine Hotel, swallowing the entire banquet hall where a charity gala was in full swing. All the guests—every last influential, billion-dollar name in the room—were trapped inside. And Elina Guzman was one of them.

By the time Rayan Spencer pulled up to the scene, the flames were already contained. But online? The rumors were spreading faster than wildfire. The fire damage itself wasn’t catastrophic, but the impact? It hit hard. Overnight, Alpine Hotel—and the Spencer Group behind it—were dragged straight into the center of a public firestorm.

Maya Spencer found out the next morning, while Rayan was already holding an emergency press conference, vowing he’d take full responsibility. The whole incident was blowing up all over social media. Maya’s first thought? She’d misread Rayan completely the night before.

Alpine Hotel was Rayan’s first big project after stepping back into the company. It wasn’t literally his child, sure, but he’d poured three years of blood, sweat, and late nights into building it. With the fire and injured guests, there was no way he could weasel out of taking the blame. But then she noticed: Rayan’s personal life was getting way more attention than the fire itself.

Blurry photos of him with Elina outside the hospital leaked online. And because the shots weren’t clear, everyone jumped to the wrong conclusion—that the woman on his arm was his wife. Before anyone knew it, hashtags like #RayanSpentTheNightWithHisWife, #RayanAndHisWifeAreEndgame, and #CoupleGoalsThatActuallyWarmYourHeart pushed all the negative fire news straight off the top of the trending list.

The comment section was full of gushing:

― “Wow, rich, handsome, and loyal to his wife? Guys like Rayan Spencer are one in a million.”

― “I’d give anything to be Rayan’s wife, honestly.”

― “All the divorce gossip was total garbage! These tabloids can’t get anything right.”

― “Take notes, fellas. Spoil your wife and you’ll live a good life.”

Maya could only stare at the screen, the irony so thick it choked her. Everyone else could mix up the faces, but she couldn’t. Even through the blur, the photos conveniently framed them as the perfect pair, the obvious affection between them practically jumping off the screen. She’d daydreamed about moments like this a hundred times before, but seeing it like this—even secondhand—hit way harder than any fantasy. It felt like her heart was about to split open.

She still loved Rayan, deeply. He was handsome, brilliant, driven, disciplined, didn’t smoke or drink or have any of the messy bad habits most rich men hid. He was perfect in every way that mattered. But he just didn’t love her back.

With a steady resolve, Maya zipped up her suitcase and walked out the door.

Meanwhile, Rayan was neck-deep in damage control. As soon as the stock market opened that morning, Spencer Group shares plummeted. But the company’s PR team was sharp—they’d been steering the narrative since the first second the fire broke out. Right after Rayan’s press conference wrapped, they leaked those blurry hospital photos on purpose. The move shifted all the public focus, and cemented Rayan’s image as a responsible, devoted “good man” overnight.

Public opinion flipped fast:

― “It was arson! Any normal hotel would’ve burned to the ground. Alpine used top-tier fireproof materials—only the ceiling went up. That’s why it wasn’t worse.”

― “So many CEOs run and hide when things go wrong. Rayan stepping up personally proves the company actually cares.”

― “How he treats his wife says everything about his character. You can trust this man.”

― “Rayan’s so hot, the Spencers are literally the perfect couple!”

By the afternoon, Spencer Group’s stock bounced all the way back from its morning low, soaring and closing stronger than ever. It was a textbook PR win—crisis management at its finest.

---

In a private VIP hospital room, Elina Guzman slammed the tray of food her mother had offered straight off the side table. “I’m not eating. How many times do I have to say it? Ugh…”

Her arm was badly burned, the pain throbbing nonstop, enough to make anyone snap. Her father, Baylor Oliver, frowned from beside the bed. “Why take your anger out on your mother?”

Frustration bubbled over, and Elina shot back, “You’re blaming me? You said a little burn would be enough! Look what you did—you burned me this bad. You’re not the one stuck here hurting, so don’t act like you get it.”

“If it wasn’t serious, why would Rayan even care?” Baylor argued, calm and patient. “I heard Maya already filed for divorce. This is the perfect opening—you have to take it.”

Elina sank back against the hospital pillows, her gaze going empty. Just a few days earlier, Rayan had looked her in the eye and told her he couldn’t give her much right now. He had to think of his wife’s feelings.

To Elina, that meant Rayan wasn’t nearly as done with Maya as all the gossip said.

“Didn’t you see how panicked he was last night? His heart’s already with you,” Baylor pushed.

Elina scoffed. “It’s his hotel that burned down, and I’m the only one who got hurt. Of course he’d act worried. What did you expect?”

“You always see the worst side of everything. Look at today—Spencer turned a disaster into a win with that ‘perfect couple’ trending garbage. Smart move, I’ll give him that. The Spencer couple, please. Could Maya even handle that title?”

Elina rolled her eyes. “Keep your paparazzi on a tight leash. If this blows up in our faces, Spencer’s good for more than just crisis management, okay? He’ll ruin us.”

“Relax. No one’s tracing this back to me.”

“If you wanted me to have him so bad now, why did you make us break up back then?”

Elise Oliver—Elina’s mother—had just finished cleaning up the scattered food from the floor, and chimed in, “Your father couldn’t see the future back then, he just…”

“Shut up,” Elina snapped, cutting her off. “You did this too! Three years ago, when Rayan recovered from his illness, I wanted to come back. You wouldn’t let me.”

“He almost died! Even after he recovered, how could we know he’d be okay? What if he ended up disabled for life?”

Elina pressed her lips together and said nothing. She’d never wanted to take care of a disabled man, anyway.

Baylor pressed on, leaning in. “You know how bad our family’s finances are. No one but Rayan can save us now. For this family—for you—you have to go for it now, baby.”

A flicker of hope sparked in Elina’s eyes. She grit her teeth, pushing past the burning ache in her arm, and said, “Discharge me. Arrange a meeting with Maya.”

Elise, worried sick, protested, “Honey, there’s no rush, you still need to…”

“Why are you still talking when I told you to be quiet?” Baylor pulled his wife back, and handed Elina her phone. “Strike while the iron is hot. This is our only shot.”

Maya was in the middle of cleaning up Soleil Wells’s apartment when the call came through. The place was smaller than the gym at Rayan’s mansion, but it was cozy, easy to keep tidy, and it felt like home.

She’d never been the type to expect someone else to spoil her. She’d learned to stand on her own two feet when she was just a kid.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Maya, sorry to bother you. It’s Elina Guzman.”

Maya hesitated for half a second. “What do you want?”

“I was hoping I could buy you coffee, if you’re free.”

“Not free,” Maya said, and turned her down flat. The world was really backwards these days—cheaters had no shame, homewreckers were bold enough to ask you out for coffee like they’d done nothing wrong. If you called them out for it, they’d call it true love. Whatever.

She wasn’t giving her the time of day. Don’t come looking for trouble if you don’t want trouble.

Maya Spencer never thought anyone would actually track her down, practically begging for her to cut loose. She’d just been heading out to take the trash when two burly bodyguards “escorted” her straight to a little bistro right on the edge of her neighborhood.

At first, Maya figured this wasn’t a kidnapping—something about it just didn’t feel right. It wasn’t until she spotted Elina Guzman sitting inside that she got it: these guys had actually invited her here for coffee.

"Welcome," two smiling hostesses chimed at the bistro entrance, nodding politely as Maya stepped in. The whole place was cleared out for the day—no other customers, totally reserved just for this little meeting.

Maya was still in her ratty cleaning clothes and fuzzy slippers, fresh from scrubbing down her apartment. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her brow, and her hair was half-mussed from work. Any other day, a place this nice would’ve probably turned her away at the door. But today, thanks to Elina, the entire bistro was hers for the taking—she was the unexpected VIP.

She paused for a beat to size Elina up. The woman was dressed in a crisp, perfect Victorian-style gown that looked like it would be a tragedy to get last night’s pasta sauce on. Her long hair fell soft and sleek over her shoulders, and she wore barely any makeup— which only made her pale skin stand out more, highlighted that delicate, almost otherworldly softness about her. It was the kind of fragile beauty that made everyone, men and women alike, just want to wrap her up and protect her.

One of the bodyguards gave her a rough shove from behind. Maya stumbled, but caught herself before she hit the floor. This confrontation wasn’t getting out of it, that was for sure. Might as well own it. She steadied her feet, tucked a stray strand of hair back, and walked straight over.

Her eyes flicked straight to Elina’s arm, wrapped thick in bandages, and Maya didn’t waste a second firing the first shot. "Miss Guzman, shouldn’t you be playing the fragile little angel in a hospital bed somewhere? What’s the point of dragging yourself out just to invite a lowly mortal like me for coffee?"

Her bold energy filled the whole room, like *she* was the one who’d rented out the entire bistro. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Elina had been on the wrong end of Maya’s sharp tongue before, and now that she was face to face with her alone, she felt trapped—jittery, out of her depth.

Even bare-faced, Maya dripped with raw, striking beauty. Her natural fair skin glowed, her complexion so smooth and clear half the women in the city would kill for it. It was no wonder Rayan had fallen for her, slow and steady, over time.

Elina fought to keep her composure, forcing a soft, gentle smile to her lips. "Mrs. Spencer, please—have a seat."

Maya stayed planted where she was, hands planted firm on her hips. She knew exactly what this little meetup really was: a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. "Let’s cut the crap and get straight to the point. We both know this isn’t some friendly coffee chat."

Maya Spencer shot back, "I already left him. What more do you want from me? I’m not the one fighting the divorce—it’s your precious Rayan who won’t sign the papers."

"What?" Elina Guzman froze, completely caught off guard.

Now it made sense. Elina had tracked Maya to this neighborhood—no grand old Victorian, just a block of average, modest homes mixed together. At first she’d assumed Maya was just visiting a friend, but looking at how she was dressed? It was pretty clear she actually lived here.

A cold knot formed in Elina’s stomach. This confrontation wasn’t going to go the way she’d planned. She could already feel it spinning out of her control.

Maya sat right across from her, watching every flicker cross Elina’s face. Shock melted into unease, which shifted into obvious regret, then quickly smoothed into a forced smile—all in the span of a heartbeat. Maya didn’t miss a single change.

Instantly, she was on high alert. Was Elina just here to stir up trouble? Was she worried Rayan might actually change his mind about the divorce? Or was this just plain old insecurity eating at her?

Elina reached for the check, and Maya got it: she wasn’t actually scared of Maya taking the money. She just didn’t want to give Maya any kind of upper hand here.

Maya snatched it faster, curling her fingers tight around the paper to hold it secure.

"Give that back!" Elina snapped, her face twisting with rage.

Maya held the check just out of Elina’s reach, a cold laugh huffing out of her. "Isn’t this supposed to be for me? I never said I didn’t want it."

Desperation flared in Elina. She shot to her feet and lunged for it. "Maya, fine, you want money so bad, but think for a second—this is my money. You’re straight-up stealing it."

Watching Elina drop that sweet innocent act and show her teeth was actually kind of funny to Maya. She didn’t even care about the check; the panic on Elina’s face was entertainment enough. She couldn’t help but wonder if Rayan had ever seen this side of her.

Maya stood and stepped back, calling Elina out on her messed up logic. "Ms. Guzman, you told me Rayan feels guilty and can’t bring himself to ask me for a divorce, right? But he swears to me the two of you are just platonic. Nothing inappropriate going on. He’s told me a hundred times he never cheated on me. He hasn’t admitted to a thing… yet here you are, openly admitting you’re the other woman?"

Elina’s face cycled through a dozen different emotions before she could even speak.

"What? You didn’t know that either? Well, well. This guy really is something else, isn’t he? Feeds you one line, feeds me another, plays both of us. But regardless of all that, I’m still his wife. And you… you’ve been played for a fool."

They stood toe to toe, neither backing down an inch. Maya had always hated Elina’s fake good-girl act, and this run-in wasn’t entirely an accident. Provoked past her limit, Elina bit back with sharp, biting sarcasm. "Maya, stop slandering Rayan. I’ve known him since we were kids. Our twenty-year bond isn’t something an outsider like you can ever break."

"Oh, is that right? So you’re saying he’d never lie to both of us like that? Does that mean you’re the liar, then?"

"You…" Elina was speechless. She couldn’t talk her way out of that one.

"Does Rayan know how two-faced you really are? You’ve known each other since childhood—twenty years, that’s a long time. He must know, right? Birds of a feather flock together… you two really are the perfect match."

Elina couldn’t win with words, so she yelled toward the café entrance, "Are you all deaf out there?"

Two burly bodyguards burst through the door seconds later.

Maya sighed. Women’s rivalry always boiled down to a man, didn’t it? And it was never fair.

"I’m still married to Rayan. Right now, I’m still his legal wife. Do you two really dare lay a hand on me?"

She’d been "escorted" against her will before—she knew empty threats wouldn’t stop these guys. So she dropped Rayan’s name, right where they could hear it.

The bodyguards froze, hesitating.

"Get the check from her," Elina ordered.

Maya quickly tucked the check down the neckline of her top, and tilted her chin up defiantly, chest forward. "Scared of losing a hand? Go ahead. Try me."

"You do it…" The first bodyguard nudged the second, stepping back.

Maya slowly backed toward the door. The bodyguards just stood there. They didn’t block her path, they didn’t make a move. It was just a job—no need to risk getting in trouble over it.

Amid Elina’s loud, furious curses, Maya walked out of the café safe and sound.

She paused for a minute on the sidewalk, snapped a quick photo of the check, and sent it straight to Rayan.

Truth be told, she’d already caused a big scene over the divorce, embarrassed Rayan and the whole Spencer family. Even through all that, Rayan still hadn’t agreed to sign off fast. She figured it couldn’t be easy for him, either.

She didn’t want to take Elina’s word for it. She’d rather trust what she saw with her own eyes.

Five years married to Rayan. Even if they were splitting up, she didn’t want him falling for someone’s lie.

Of course, if he really loved Elina enough to choose to be blind to it? She had nothing more to say.

---

Spencer Group, President’s Office.

London had been wrapped in thick fog all day, and it only cleared a little by four o’clock in the afternoon. Sunlight slanted through the tall windows, stretching Rayan’s shadow long across the floor.

Even though Spencer Group’s stock price was holding steady, his face was etched with worry.

His assistant, Brycen Wells, came in to update him. "Mr. Spencer, the Chairman’s down in PR. I couldn’t get a minute with him."

Rayan’s brow furrowed even deeper.

"The Chairman’s happy with how the crisis was handled. I hear PR wants to keep pushing your 'loving husband' image to boost your reputation while the scandal’s still fading. It’s the cheapest, most effective strategy they’ve got."

Rayan closed his eyes for a beat, grinding his teeth. A loving husband? What a fucking joke.

PR had deliberately tied Elina to the "Mrs. Spencer" title, spun that whole narrative. Maya was already hurt, and now this just made everything a thousand times worse. Reaching out to comfort her now would just look like he was using her.

Brycen offered a suggestion: "Mr. Spencer, maybe you should pick up a gift for Mrs. Spencer?"

With all the tension lately, Mr. Spencer’s bad mood had been rough on everyone on staff. Brycen was just trying to help.

Rayan initially scoffed, shaking his head. Then he paused, thought it over, and hesitated before finally giving in. "You think that would work?"

Brycen’s eyes lit up. "It’s better than doing nothing, right?"

"What’s a safe bet?"

"Jewelry. Diamonds. You can’t go wrong with diamonds."

"Then pick out a diamond necklace. Have it ready for me by end of day."

"No problem at all."

Just then, the office door swung open. Marcos Spencer walked in, his face set in a hard line, and got straight to the point. "Don’t think I don’t know who the woman in those photos is. Even if our deal with the Guzmans went through, you’re still a married man. Carrying on like this isn’t appropriate, is it?"

Rayan jumped to explain immediately. "There’s nothing going on between us."

Marcos chuckled, like he knew better, that familiar fatherly knowing look in his eyes. "I know you too well. We messed up before, but you need to look at this clearly. Someone set this whole thing up on purpose. We got lucky the PR crisis worked out okay in the end."