The Baby, The Billionaire And The Ex-husband's Ruin

Ariana's POV

"I can't believe we won the contract. Thank you so much for your unwavering support... we really appreciate it... yes, of course. We'll see you at the celebratory party." I drop the phone and spin around in the kitchen, barefoot.

We just got the biggest contract in the city and now, my husband and I are no more millionaires. We're freaking billionaires.

When the Mayor brought out the requirements for the contract, requesting an architectural design of the new bridge, I didn't think I could do it.

But honestly, research, coffee and sleepless nights did it for me. We beat every other design and got the contract, our biggest yet.

A party was scheduled to be held at the Hal in my husband's office, but I have never really fancied being in the spotlight, so I thought we could have a party of our own in his office and maybe something else too. I giggle at the thought.

I grab a bottle of wine from our small bar in the kitchen and a basket of snacks and biscuits and walk hurriedly to my car.

I slip on my heels by the door and I leave.

My music is on full blast as I drive up to my Husband's office, he would really love the surprise. It is his favourite wine, four cousins and, of course, my pastries that he loves.

The ride takes a while because of traffic and whatnot, but I finally arrive.

"Hello, Madam." Stacy, the receptionist, greets me with a smile when I walk in. I smile back at her and nod as I walk to the elevator with my gifts in hand.

My husband is the face of our company; I bring the ideas, and he presents them as his own. I create, and he uses his influence to promote.

We built the company that we have today.

I am giddy with happiness as I walk to his office with a skip in my step. I can hear the music from the hall downstairs. The staff and invited guests must be having a good time.

"Good evening, Madam." My husband's secretary, Freddie greets me with sweat trickling down his face.

"Good evening, Freddie. Why aren't you with the other staff?" I smile at him. "You can't be here working too? You need to loosen up and have fun. Come on, go downstairs."

"Um... mam... I can't do that... Sir said not to allow anyone in." He says, stammering and constantly touching his cufflinks.

"I'm not just anyone, though, and it's just me. He wouldn't mind." I search the basket and hand him a cookie before walking to the doors and pushing them open.

"Honey, I'm–"

"Oh yes, faster. I love it when you fuck me so rough," a high-pitched voice says.

I can't believe my eyes.

My husband, the man that I have loved with all my heart for so many years, was behind his desk with a lady who looked like she was still in college and her dress bunched up to her waist, and they were having sex?!

If he hears me come in, he doesn't acknowledge it. The girl makes eye contact with me and moans loudly and my husband slaps her ass in response.

He grunts and continues to have sex with her in front of me. He looks up at me, and my world freezes.

My husband... he is cheating on me. It all clicked; he hadn't called in days, he kept avoiding coming home, saying he was finishing up many meetings, we hadn't been intimate for three months, Freddie's behaviour...

I hear glass shatter to the ground but I don't need to look to know that it is the glass of his favourite wine that I brought to celebrate with him.

I turn on my heels and run out of the office.

"Madam." I hear Freddie's voice behind me but I ignore him. Tears are streaming down my cheeks and my vision is blurry. I enter the elevator and hurriedly push the button so Freddie can't get to me.

I don't need any half-assed apologies or explanations.

My husband is cheating on me.

That fact kept ringing over and over in my head and I couldn't wrap my head around it.

The elevator dings and tears are still falling down my eyes. I spot one of our international partners and I rush to clean my tears.

I hope I did not smudge my makeup.

The man spots me and walks up to me talking animatedly. He's from Italy and his interpretator interprets for him.

"What a lovely design. I take that your husband made it yes?"

The interpretator looks uneasy with my body language and probably how puffed up my eyes look but the Italian man doesn't notice.

My throat feels tight and I can't seem to say yes, that my husband made those designs like I was always proud to.

Do I need to tell him it was mine?

"I'm sorry I have to go." I gave them a half smile and walked away quickly.

If Stacey notices how I look, she doesn't comment or stop me.

I walk to my car and begin to cry once I'm inside. Dominic didn't do this to me...

No, no, no...

I start my car and drive out of the parking lot.

I need to go home.

The car ride is silent except for my sobs. The tears don't stop and they just keep coming, blurring my vision.

That is when I don't notice a truck coming from the other lane. The last thing I see is headlights flashing at me, and then my head hits the stirring wheel, and all I feel is pain before I black out.

-

"Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Huh? What's happening?

I slowly sit up, and I whine as I feel a sharp pain in the side of my head. I raise my hand to touch it and I'm met with a bandage.

"What happened to me," I whisper to no one but the man beside me must have heard.

"You were involved in an accident. You need an urgent check-up at the hospital. You need to come with me."

That explains the blood and the police car and shattered windows.

The man's face fully forms in my vision and I make out that he's a police officer. My clothes are soaked in blood and one of my heels is missing.

"Where is my car?" I ask, looking at him.

He stares at me wide-eyed and points to my car.

Good. It's still in good condition to drive home.

I wobble up and walk to my car when I feel a hand on my arm.

"Madam, you need to come with me to the hospital. You need treatment and stitches, the bandage wouldn't hold for long."

I turn to look him dead in the eyes. "Leave me alone" and I see him flinch.

I turn away from him and walk back to my car, starting it up and driving away from the scene to my earlier destination. My house.

I pull into the driveway and I'm surprised to see bags outside the door.

Whose bags are those?

I get out of the car, and upon close inspection, they're mine.

"Who fucked up your head?"

I turn to see my husband staring at me, and I'm shocked that the first image that crosses my mind is to strangle him till he is writhing beneath me, begging for his life.

I shake that thought away and try to be reasonable. He must have had a reason for abusing me like that. I mean cheating on me in his office and putting out my bags from our home?

"What are my bags doing out here, Dom?" I smile at him.

He first looks taken aback and frightened, probably by my smile but he covers it up with a poker face.

"Leave."