Billionaire's Rekindling Love

ZARA TAYLOR

"Please be careful with that," I said as I rushed towards the huge picture of me and my husband, Ronnie, on our wedding day.

"Where do you want it placed?" I was asked.

"Just... over there," I replied, pointing to the far wall across from the fireplace. My fingers trembled slightly as I adjusted the frame, brushing a speck of dust from the glass. The sight of our smiling faces, frozen in time, sent a pang through my chest.

The movers nodded and carefully set the portrait down where I'd indicated.

I stared at it for a moment longer. That day felt like a lifetime ago. Two years, to be exact.

Two years of marriage, I was thrown into, to pay off my family's debt. A marriage that made me give my all but received nothing back in return. But hopefully it all changes today because of our anniversary.

"Is there anything else you'd like us to move, ma'am?" one of them asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I blinked, swallowing hard. "No. That'll be all for now, thank you." I quickly covered the portrait with a piece of clothing. I checked around for how the meals are placed on the table.

The table was set just the way I wanted-crystal glasses polished to a shine, silverware neatly aligned, and the scent of rosemary chicken wafting through the air. I'd spent hours perfecting every detail. If tonight didn't change something between Ronnie and me... I wasn't sure what would.

All I ever wanted was a family, one that felt like mine used to. Like me, Mom, and Dad. It was one of the things I looked forward to when I was thrust into this marriage by my stepmother.

But that couldn't happen because my husband wouldn't touch me. Instead, every night I wake up to the sound of him calling out another woman's name in his sleep. A name that sounded familiar.

Having fairytale love was something I had always hoped for. For my name to be on his lips just one night. Maybe this night will change everything. It has to because all hope is beginning to feel lost.

I adjusted one of the napkins, just for the sake of doing something, anything. My heart thudded against my chest as the clock ticked closer to seven. That's when he said he'd be home.

The numerous notifications sounds coming from my phone broke my thoughts and I reached into my back pocket.

"Damnit," I cursed silently. I thought I had muted the notification coming from this particular blog site. Everything about my life has been criticized by this blog.

Talking about how I conned my way into his life just for his money was a regular thing, and I have tried to push those words out of my head.

"Until now," I signed as I opened up the latest post, and my eyes shone.

"What is this?" I asked myself, trying to grasp what I was reading. "It can't be," Ronnie with another woman.

My breath caught in my throat as I scrolled down, each word etching itself into my brain like a slow-burning fire. The photo attached to the post was blurry but damning, Ronnie, unmistakably him in his tailored grey suit, leaning in too close to a woman I couldn't recognize because of how the picture was taken. Her hand rested on his chest, fingers curled like they belonged there. His smile,God, that smile, the only time I have seen him smile so hard was on our wedding day.

A caption mocked me in bold font beneath the image,

"Power couple no more? Sources say Ronnie Walsh is finding comfort elsewhere. Who is the mystery woman stealing the billionaire's attention?"

I dropped the phone onto the table with a clatter, the screen facing down like it could erase what I'd just seen. My chest heaved as if my ribs were too tight to contain my lungs. The scent of rosemary, once warm and comforting, now made my stomach churn.

I walked over to the window, pulling back the curtain slightly to glance outside-still no sign of his car. I bit my lower lip, willing myself not to cry. Not yet.

The clock struck seven. Then, a huge noise filled the compound. That's Ronnie's car. Without thinking, I rushed outside, desperate for answers and more questions at the same time.

The car stopped directly in front of me. He wasn't alone. I could see two more people from where I stood.

"Tell me this isn't real, Ronnie?" I couldn't wait to ask him as he got out of his car. I shoved my phone in his face.

"You know it is," he scoffed and walked towards the passenger door.

"No, you are not working away from me this time. I want an answer. In detail!" I yelled.

His smile turned into a smirk as he opened the passenger door of his car. "How is this for detail?" he asked as a familiar face walked out.

"Becca, Laurel?" I looked at both of them, confused. What's my stepsister and my stepmother doing in my husband's car on the day of my anniversary?

"Zara, meet Rebecca, the love of my life," Ronnie's words sounded like echoes in my ear. I looked at Becca, who stood beside him with a smirk on her lips. I turned to Laurel, who had the same look.

"What is this?" I asked, after finding my voice. "Is this a sick joke?" I asked again.

Ronnie didn't answer right away. Instead, he placed a possessive hand on Rebecca's waist, like he was proud, proud, to tear my world apart.

"No joke," he said simply. "Just the truth, I'm finally done hiding."

My heart thudded painfully, the wind knocked out of me without a single blow. I looked from him to Rebecca-Becca, my stepsister, that's why the name always sounded familiar. I can't believe I didn't put it all together. But who would have thought they were the same person?

"You knew," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of my pulse crashing in my ears. "Both of you knew."

"Of course I didn't," Laurel said, stepping forward like she was the guest of honor at a dinner party.

"You think I'd let you marry into money, if I knew my daughter already had Ronnie's heart?" she asked.

Her words sliced through the night like glass. My knees nearly buckled, but I forced myself to stay upright.

"This was never about you, Zara," Rebecca chimed in, her voice syrupy sweet with venom underneath. "You were just the placeholder. The charity case. He was always meant to be mine."

I turned to Ronnie, desperately needing him to deny it, to say something, anything. But all he did was shrug.

"She gets me," he said. "She's not... needy."

Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of them.

"So this... everything... our marriage was just a deal?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"A transaction," Laurel said coldly. "To pay off your dead father's debt. You should be thanking us. We gave you a roof over your head, a name to wear like a crown, and all we asked in return was that you play your part."

Rebecca stepped closer then, her smile radiant and cruel. "And now your part is over."

I stared at the three of them, the people who were supposed to be my family. My world tilted, cracked, and shattered, all in the span of a few minutes.

ZARA TAYLOR

I stared into the red traffic light as my feet shifted relentlessly on the brake pedal of my car. The weight of the evening pressed against me. The air was thick with the faint hum of the city, the distant murmur of conversations blending with the sound of tires on wet asphalt.

I could feel the tension building inside me, like the calm before a storm. The light flickered, almost as if teasing me to move, but I remained frozen, unsure if I was waiting for it to turn green or for something more... something I couldn't yet name.

My eyes drifted to the billboard, staring back at me was the picture of the city's most sought after couples. My husband and my stepsister. Another game the universe decided to play with me despite my pleas.

The image on the billboard mocked me, the perfect smile of my husband and the radiant gaze of my stepsister, frozen in time as if their betrayal was a love story. My pulse quickened, and for a moment, the noise of the city faded away, leaving only the pounding of my own heart. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, the plastic seeming to melt under the pressure of my grip.

"Zara, are you listening?" I heard my friend's and attorney's voice on my phone.

"Yeah, yeah, but I have to go," I said to her.

"Don't give up hope, Zara. We can win this," and with that, the line went dead.

The light finally turned green, I hit the pedal and sped off immediately. I tried to block out the picture from my mind, but it was all I could see as I drove into our estate.

The huge gate opened, but I didn't move. The engine of my car hummed, waiting, as if it too understood the weight of the moment. I glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing nothing but headlights reflecting at me. I was alone in my thoughts, alone with the decision that had been circling in my mind ever since I found out my step sister is pregnant with my husband.

"Hey! Are you going in or not?" The screams and yells of everyone behind me brought me back to reality. I drove inside the compound, parked by the gate as they all drove in deeper.

I walked past the whispers that surrounded me with my head high. Nothing happening today is going to pull me down. Walking into my home and seeing the decorations for Becca's baby shower brought pain to me.

I could feel the tears piling up in my eyes. I fought them back; no one must see me in tears. I can keep myself together even though it's just for a few hours.

"Where is it?" I turned around upon hearing Ronnie's voice.

"Unpleasant as ever," I said to him, looking at him without showing a sign of weakness.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, glaring at me.

"I am your wife, Ronnie, and you can't even ask about my well-being. It's just straight to business," I said loudly.

"Keep your voice down," he said with gritted teeth. "Our marriage has always been about business. Now, where is the document?"

That's the only thing that matters to him, his document. He has refused to sign the divorce papers but keeps giving me issues to deal with for him. I shouldn't have done it for him but I have been working on this deal way before his betrayal and it's not going to stop me from doing my job.

I pulled the envelope from my purse, my fingers trembling only slightly before I forced them steady. Holding it out to him, I kept my gaze locked on his, refusing to look away even as his expression twisted with impatience.

"There," I said. "Just like you wanted. Signed and sealed."

He snatched it from my hand without so much as a thank you, his eyes already scanning the papers. I watched him, studying the man I once thought I could love, the man I once believed I could build a family with. But here he is building a family with my step sister and love was a word that had long lost its meaning between us, buried beneath lies and betrayal.

"Perfect," he muttered, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. "Now, try not to embarrass yourself or me in front of the guests."

The urge to slap him tore through me like wildfire, but I swallowed it down. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten under my skin. Instead, I plastered on a smile, the kind I'd perfected over the years. The one that fooled everyone but me.

"Don't worry, Ronnie. I've gotten quite good at playing my part."

I turned on my heels and walked away, the echoes of laughter and music growing louder as I walked up towards the stairs. Becca's baby shower was in full swing, the room overflowing with guests, balloons, and sickly sweet decorations that only intensified the bitterness in my chest.

Becca's voice rang out above the chatter, light and melodic, her laughter charming everyone around her. My stepsister had always been the golden girl, the one everyone adored. And now, she was having everything I had been denied.

"Zara!" Becca's voice broke through my thoughts, too bright, too cheerful. I forced myself to turn toward her, plastering that same fake smile across my face.

"Becca," I replied, my tone calm, even as my chest tightened.

Her cheerful and bright face dropped as soon as she stood in front of me. Away from the eyes of the guest.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. I swallowed hard as I stared down at her baby bump. Talk about overwhelming evidence of Ronnie's affair and betrayal.

"This is my house or have you forgotten so soon?" I responded to her question with another question.

"Don't you have any atoms of shame? I'm the love of Ronnie's life, and there is nothing you are going to do about it," she said and I scoffed.

"You sure have a twisted definition of love, Becca. Whatever this is between you and Ronnie, it's built on lies and deceit. It will crumble, just like everything else tainted by betrayal."

Her eyes narrowed, the smugness melting into something darker. "You're just jealous. I gave him everything you couldn't. Love, passion... a child."

The word struck me like a slap. Child. The very thing I had longed for, prayed for. And there she stood, flaunting it like a trophy. My hands clenched at my sides, the nails digging into my palms.

Her hand went to her swollen belly, her expression suddenly shifting from rage to panic. "You... you're stressing me out, Zara. I can't... I can't breathe."

The shift was so sudden, so calculated, that I almost didn't believe what I was seeing. Her eyes flitted past me, checking to see if anyone was watching.

"Stop pretending, Becca. You're not fooling anyone," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

But the look of fear on her face only grew more dramatic. She took a step back, her hand clutching her belly, and then she stumbled.

I reached out instinctively, but before I could catch her, she let out a piercing scream and threw herself backward.

She tumbled down the stairs.

It happened so quickly, my brain couldn't process it. Her body crumpled as she hit the floor, her scream cutting off into a strangled gasp.

"Oh my God!" someone cried from the crowd, and then there were shouts, footsteps, and chaos.

Ronnie appeared, his eyes wild as he pushed through the gathering crowd. When he saw Becca sprawled at the bottom of the staircase, he rushed to her side, cradling her in his arms.

"Becca! Becca, talk to me!" he shouted, his voice thick with panic.

"She pushed me..." Becca whispered, her voice weak and trembling. "Zara... she... she shoved me down the stairs."

My eyes widened. "What? No! I didn't touch you, Becca! You fell!"

Ronnie's gaze snapped up to meet mine, the fury in his eyes like a blazing fire. "How could you? How could you hurt her like this, Zara?"

"Ronnie, I didn't-"

"Enough!" he roared, his voice silencing the room.

"I've tolerated your jealousy and bitterness for far too long. But this? Hurting Becca and our child? You're done, Zara. This marriage... it's over."

I stared at him, the words striking like daggers to my chest. Around us, the guests whispered and stared, their judgment palpable. Even though I wanted to get out of this marriage, hearing him scream it out loud brought pain to my heart.

Ronnie's next words were cold and final. "Get out of my house. I'll have the divorce papers sent to you by morning."

He turned away from me, his focus solely on Becca as she whimpered in his arms. I took a step back, my legs trembling, the walls closing in around me.

I stumbled out of the room, out of the house, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. I could still hear their voices, their accusations, echoing in my mind.

The cool night air hit me like a slap as I reached my car. I sank against it, tears burning my eyes. This was it. The end of everything.

Or maybe... the beginning.

ZARA TAYLOR

I kept tapping my hands against my purse as I sat in the lobby of the fertility clinic I just walked into. I could feel my legs vibrating and my mind racing as well.

"What am I doing?" I ask myself. It's only been a few months since I divorced, and I have been enjoying my single life as much as I want.

But something inside of me keeps screaming incomplete and that's why I'm here. In a fertility clinic, trying to have a baby.

"Hi, you can go in now," the receptionist said to me. I nodded with a smile and walked towards the doctor's office. The door swung open, and a couple walked out, holding each other tightly and beaming with a smile.

I stepped aside to let them pass, their happiness brushing against me like a gust of warm wind I hadn't expected. I caught the woman's eyes just for a second, there was a shine in them, a kind of joy that wasn't just about the moment, but about something bigger.

I swallowed hard, the knot in my stomach tightening.

The doctor stood at the door, her expression gentle and inviting. "Ms. Taylor? Come in."

I took a deep breath, adjusted the strap of my purse on my shoulder, and walked inside.

The room was calm, minimalist, with soft lighting and shelves lined with medical books and tiny framed photos, babies, happy parents, little thank-you notes scribbled in colored ink.

"Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing toward the chair across from her desk. "I'm Dr. Moreno."

"Zara," I replied, settling into the chair. "Nice to meet you."

She gave me a kind smile and opened a folder. "So, I understand you're interested in exploring fertility options?"

I nodded, forcing a small smile of my own. "Yes. I know it probably sounds a little impulsive, but..."

"You'd be surprised how many people come in saying that exact thing." She folded her hands on the desk. "But this isn't about impulse. It's about instinct. Wanting a child isn't something that always follows a 'perfect timeline.'"

Her words softened the sharp edges of doubt circling my thoughts.

"I've been through a lot recently," I admitted. "A divorce. A shift in my career. And now, I just... I want something that's mine. Something real."

Dr. Moreno nodded, understanding. "That's valid. And you're not alone." She paused, glancing at her notes. "There are a few different paths we can take depending on what you're comfortable with: sperm donor, egg freezing, IVF. Have you thought about which direction you'd like to go?"

I bit my bottom lip, my fingers twisting the ring I no longer wore on my left hand. "I don't know. I mean, I want to be a mom. I know that. But how..."

"That's what we're here for," she said warmly. "To figure that out, together."

"But there's one thing I do know I want," I said to her with all seriousness.

"Name it. This is your decision to make and no one else," I smiled at the sound of that. My decision to make. My choice.

"Good, because I want everything to be anonymous," I said, and she arched her eyebrows. "Whatever decision I am going to make has to be anonymous. I do not want to know who the sperm donor will be, and he can't know who I am as well," I said, and she nodded

A month into my treatments, I was beginning to feel something close to hope. It was fragile, like a paper crane folded by trembling fingers, but it was there.

Until the call.

It came on a Thursday morning, just after I finished my workout. Dr. Moreno's voice was soft, too soft.

"Zara, I need you to come in as soon as possible. There's been a... complication."

Complication. That word echoed in my ears the whole drive to the clinic. I replayed every step I had taken over the past month, trying to figure out what went wrong. Did I forget a pill? Miss an injection?

I was ushered into Dr. Moreno's office the second I arrived, no waiting, no pleasantries. Just her solemn face and a thick file sitting open on her desk.

"There's been a mistake," she said.

My heart sank.

"What kind of mistake?" I asked, already bracing myself for the worst.

"It's about the donor," she said gently. "There was an error during the labeling process in the lab. The sperm used during your IVF wasn't from the anonymous donor you selected."

I stared at her, blinking. "What do you mean it wasn't from the donor I selected?"

She folded her hands tightly, clearly shaken. "Zara, I'm so sorry. The donor used was someone else. And he has been made aware of the mix-up... He wants to be involved."

I stood up immediately. "No. No, that is not happening. That was never part of the deal. I made it very clear that I wanted anonymity. No ties. No obligations."

"I know," Dr. Moreno said, rising slowly. "And I'm truly sorry. We're investigating exactly how this happened. But I do think... it might help if you meet him. Just to understand the full picture before deciding your next steps."

"No," I said flatly.

That night, I lay awake, wondering what kind of man would want to get involved in a situation like this and why.

Against my better judgment, I agreed to the meeting.

I walked into the private meeting room, arms folded and a tough expression on my face, like I was ready for a fight.

The door opened, and I heard his footsteps before I saw him. Then, that voice.

"Zara?"

Everything inside me froze.

I turned, slowly, and my breath caught in my throat.

Matthew Russell.

I nearly stumbled backward, gripping the edge of the table like it could anchor me to reality. He looked older, yes, but still maddeningly handsome, tall, composed, his brown eyes carrying the same storm they did all those years ago. The only man I had ever loved.

The only man I had ever truly hated.

"You?" I whispered, disbelief crashing into my chest like a wave.

He nodded slowly, as stunned as I was. "I didn't know. Not until they contacted me."

I blinked hard, forcing myself to breathe. "This is... this is a joke. A really sick joke."

"I wish it were," he said quietly. "But it's not. I didn't ask for this either, Zara."

I laughed, bitter and sharp. "You have no right to be involved in anything to do with me. Especially not something like this."

"I didn't come here to make this harder," he said, stepping closer. "But I need you to understand... I never stopped thinking about you."

I flinched, every nerve in my body reacting to the sting of his words. "Don't. Don't you dare do this. You don't get to come back now, after everything you ruined."

His jaw tightened. "It was an accident, Zara. I was seventeen. I didn't mean for any of it to happen."

He swallowed hard, guilt rippling across his face like a shadow. "And I've lived with that every single day since. You think I haven't paid for it? I left the country because I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. But now I'm back. And this...it changes everything."

I shook my head, my hands trembling. "Not for me. I didn't ask for anyone's help, especially not you."

"I'm not here to take anything from you," he said. "But I do want to be part of this child's life."

"No," I said firmly, my voice cracking. "You don't get to play the redemption card just because fate dealt us a twisted hand."

There was silence between us. Heavy. Suffocating.

"Zara..." he said softly. "Please."

"I can't do this," I said, turning away. "I won't."

I stormed out of the room, my heart pounding, my vision blurring. I didn't stop until I was in my car, gripping the steering wheel like it might break apart in my hands.

My whole body trembled. Not just from anger, but from the wave of memories I had buried for years. His kiss. His touch. His betrayal. The funeral. The rain. The void.

I couldn't let him back in. Not now. Not ever.

So I did what I had to.

I packed a bag that night, booked a flight out of the country, and left.

No goodbye.

No note.

No clue that I was already pregnant.