The Billionaire Unexpected Love

"Congratulations and welcome to the family!"

The room erupted with laughter and cheers, clinking glasses, and the sound of celebratory chatter. The scent of fresh roses and expensive wine lingered in the air, mingling with the aroma of a just-unwrapped fruitcake.

The living room, where May had spent countless evenings with her in-laws, now looked like a scene from someone else's celebration - strangers in familiar clothing. "I can't believe my son got someone pregnant," her mother-in-law continued, voice practically glowing with joy.

"I always knew you were not the problem. It was that woman with bad luck you got married to. Now that you are with a better woman, you see what's happening!"

In the hallway, just outside the room, May clutched a small box wrapped with a golden ribbon, the cake she had personally ordered earlier that day. Her heels clicked softly against the marble tiles as she stepped closer, her heart fluttering with excitement - and confusion. Her second wedding anniversary. She thought they forgot. Maybe this was all a surprise? She stepped into the room with a soft smile.

"Hello Mom," she said brightly, trying to match the mood in the room. "What's the cause of this joyous mood, is it because of our 2nd wedding anniversary that's today?" The silence that followed was suffocating. As if a spell had been broken, heads turned.

Her mother-in-law scoffed, slowly turning toward her, face curled in distaste. "Who is your mother?" she snapped. Her voice was ice dipped in venom. "Don't ever call me mother." May's breath caught.

Her hands gripped the cake box tighter as her chest began to rise and fall unevenly. She blinked rapidly, the warmth in her eyes now prickling with confusion. Pain. She was about to speak, to ask what was going on - but before she could utter a word, she heard a voice.

A tiny, smug voice. "Mother, don't get so worked up, remember you still have to play with your grandchildren." May's head snapped in the direction of the voice. And her blood ran cold. Chrissy. Her best friend. Her confidante. The one she had poured her soul out to.

Sitting on the same couch May had sat on countless times during family dinners. Sitting like she belonged. Her belly - swollen. Her eyes - unapologetic. Why was Chrissy in her house? What is she saying about grandchildren? The questions raced through her mind faster than she could think of them, each one heavier than the last. Her knees felt weak. She opened her mouth to demand answers, to scream even - but her mother-in-law cut her off with another sickeningly sweet remark. "I know right, my very good daughter-in-law. Don't worry, I'll live long enough to take care of my grandchildren."

Grandchildren. The word echoed in May's ears like a cruel joke. Her heart pounded. Her lips quivered. Her best friend - the one she always stood behind so she could shine - was now glowing in her place. In her house.

Carrying a child that wasn't hers. Chrissy stood slowly, one hand protectively cradling her stomach, the other pressing into the lower part of her back like the weight of the secret she'd been hiding finally settled. "May," she said, voice soft but laced with arrogance, "can you please excuse us? You are increasing mother's blood pressure and disturbing my baby as well with your presence." May could feel the heat rising behind her eyes. Her vision blurred with unshed tears.

Then, as if on cue, her husband - the man she had loved, fought for, prayed with - stepped forward from Chrissy's side and held her waist. The intimacy of that touch was deliberate, possessive. "Sorry, babe," he said to Chrissy. Babe. That word - once hers - now belonged to someone else.

Before they could all continue with their farce, May suddenly screamed - voice sharp, voice trembling, voice real. "Can everyone just stop?! What's going on here? Which grandchildren?! What is this whole drama going on?!" She turned fully to face her husband. "Chrissy, why are my husband's hands around your waist?! What the f*ck is going on?!"

The room stiffened. No one moved. No one offered an explanation. Her husband slowly let go of Chrissy and stepped forward. "May," he began, voice calm in the most violent way, "we both know this whole marriage charade isn't working anymore." The words sliced her open.

She hadn't even noticed the cake box slipping from her fingers until she heard it - a soft thud, followed by the muffled squish of icing against marble. The white frosting, once pristine, was now smeared across the floor. Flowers bent. Crushed. She staggered back, tears now flowing freely, her voice cracking under the weight of a breaking heart.

"I know... but we can make it work," she whispered. Images flashed through her mind - the early days of her marriage, when they were inseparable, when he held her like she was the only woman in the world. His mother had once adored her.

Everything changed after six months. No pregnancy. No progress. Just pressure. Still desperate, she walked over to her mother-in-law and gently took her hand, kneeling. "Mother... I'm taking some really good supplements," she said, voice hopeful. "Recommended by my mom. In a couple of weeks, I'll be pregnant, Mom." Her mother-in-law snatched her hand away like May's touch had burned her. "Son," she said coldly. "Issue her the divorce letters now." May's head whipped toward her husband.

She shook her head frantically, lips trembling. "I have tried to love you," he said, avoiding her gaze. "But I just can't. It isn't about the whole barren issue. I don't love you anymore." Her legs gave way. She fell to her knees, chest heaving, as if the words knocked the air from her lungs.

She looked up, eyes bloodshot and pleading. "We can rekindle it. We can start over. I can be better." She turned to Chrissy, voice raw. "Chrissy... why? Why??" But Chrissy simply looked away - not a flicker of remorse. And that's when the memories came rushing back.

All the times May had dimmed her light so Chrissy could shine. All the times she had stood behind her best friend so she wouldn't feel small. All the secrets she shared. The late-night phone calls. The trust. Gone. A shuffle of paper brought her attention back

. Her husband threw the divorce documents in front of her. The echo of the folder hitting the floor sounded like a door slamming shut. "Sign this and let's end things peacefully." May didn't reach for the papers. Her fingers trembled as she held her chest instead, trying to calm the storm inside. "Please... reconsider," she said softly. "I don't mind Chrissy. Having a baby mama is the norm nowadays. I'm fine with it."

Her husband's tone hardened. "May. Sign this while I'm still being calm." Chrissy added coldly, "May, this is the end of this chapter." Still, May refused. She shook her head, sobbing silently. Her husband turned to the guards stationed by the door. "Throw her out of this house. Make sure she signs the papers by force."

May gasped. "Wait, please-no, no, don't do this!" But everyone looked away. Like she was invisible. Unwanted. The guards moved toward her. Two strong arms lifted her up like she was nothing. She kicked, screamed, and begged. One of them grabbed her hand, dipped her thumb in an ink jar, and stamped the divorce papers.

A permanent goodbye. She was dragged through the hallway - the same hallway she used to walk hand-in-hand with her husband - and tossed out the front door like trash. The sky had darkened.

A gust of wind scattered flower petals from the bouquet she dropped earlier. She sat on the pavement, trembling, mascara streaking her cheeks.

Just like that, May was bundled out of her matrimonial home into the cold streets - with a strict warning to never return again. Or risk a lawsuit.

Inside the Swebb Family House...

The atmosphere was warm and dimly lit, filled with the comforting scent of freshly brewed hibiscus tea and soft jazz humming from the speakers. But the air between the family members was tense, even as calm words were exchanged. "Why do you want to go?"

Smith's mother asked softly, her voice echoing slightly in the high-ceilinged living room, where gold-framed photos of family portraits adorned the walls. Smith stood near the fireplace, arms folded tightly, concern written across his brow. "You don't have to go after your best friend," he said, glancing down at Chrissy, who was curled up on the couch, draped in a pale lavender robe. Her long hair fell loosely around her face, slightly damp from the bath she just took. "You know she wouldn't have done the same if you were the one in her shoes.

She would've left you alone without a second thought." Chrissy's eyes shimmered with guilt. Fat, glistening tears clung to her lashes before rolling down her cheeks. "But it doesn't look good," she whispered, barely audible. "What would society say about me?" Smith looked at his mother and gave her a small, subtle nod. She walked over calmly and sat beside Chrissy. Placing a gentle hand on her trembling shoulder, she gave a reassuring squeeze. "You shouldn't be worrying about what society or anyone else would say," she said, voice firm but maternal.

"All that matters is that this family accepts you wholeheartedly for who you are. The others don't matter." Chrissy looked up, sniffling, as Smith's mother gently wiped her cheek with the edge of her sleeve. "And don't forget..." she added, looking down meaningfully at Chrissy's rounded stomach, "you are now responsible for two people - not just yourself anymore." The gravity of those words settled heavily in the room. "Now take a deep breath," she said, brushing Chrissy's hair away from her face. "And stay calm... for my grandchild." Chrissy slowly nodded.

Without another word, Smith stepped forward, sweeping her up in his arms in a graceful bridal lift. Her sheepish smile stretched lazily across her lips, betraying her satisfaction. She knew exactly what she had done - she had ruined May's chances in this house. And she didn't regret it. As he carried her up the stairs, their shadows merged on the wall, slowly disappearing into the bedroom upstairs.

May POV

Meanwhile, on the other side of town... The moonlight cast a pale glow over me as I sat slumped on the cold pavement, my face streaked with tears and smeared mascara. My clothes were dusty and wrinkled, my scarf dangling loosely around my neck. Strands of my once-elegant hairstyle had fallen out, sticking to my cheeks, still wet with despair.

I stared blankly at the streets ahead, blinking slowly, as if trying to wake up from a dream that just wouldn't end. But this was real. I had been thrown out of my matrimonial home. My husband had chosen her-my best friend-the same woman who once helped me pick wedding dresses. And now she was pregnant with his child.

The sobs came in waves, each one worse than the last. I cried until my throat burned raw and my body went numb. Until I couldn't cry anymore. Then, with nothing but shame and heartbreak weighing me down, I picked myself up-weak, slow, trembling. I walked. Ten kilometers. Every step was agony.

The sound of passing cars mocked my misery. My sandals were thin-soled and offered no protection. My toes cried out with every stride. My hair was undone, my lips cracked, my shoulders slumped. But I walked. When I finally reached my parents' apartment, my fingers were trembling as I knocked on the tall iron gate. I could feel eyes on me-neighbors peering from half-drawn curtains and open windows, their whispers floating on the breeze. "Is that May? What happened to her?" "She looks like a mad woman." "She used to look so fine, now see..."

A porch light came on, and then I saw her-my mother-stepping out in her floral wrapper and worn house slippers. She squinted at me at first. Then she gasped. "May? Is that you?" Her tone changed instantly-sharp as broken glass. "Your mother-in-law told me you are a disgraceful woman. So they sent you packing." She folded her arms across her chest, her face pinched with judgment and disappointment. "What did you do?" she snapped.

Tears filled my eyes all over again, but this time, they weren't just from sadness. They were from humiliation. From betrayal. From the pain of standing outside, broken, begging for comfort and getting daggers instead. "Mom..." I choked out. "Chrissy is pregnant with my husband's child." Her expression didn't soften. It hardened. She curled her lip in disgust. "This is a big disgrace to you," she spat. "Another woman came forward to take your spot." Her voice grew louder, crueler. "I regret giving birth to you." I fell to my knees. "Mom!" I cried. "Chrissy is my husband's new wife! Are you not hearing me or not?!"

She stared at me in silence for a long moment, then turned her back. "Your father and I can't accept you back into this house," she said coldly. "You know what the society would say. And you know we are reputable people in this community." Her voice was final. "Get your place back... then we can talk. Else, don't call or visit me."

The gate slammed shut in my face. And with that, the last thread of love I was holding onto... snapped. I staggered backward and collapsed onto the dirt road just outside the gate. My chest heaved with painful sobs, each one tearing me apart from the inside. I looked up at the sky, but it was empty. No stars. No comfort.

Just darkness. I wiped my face with shaking hands, dirt mixing with the salt of my tears. I whispered to myself, voice cracking, "OMG... how much I hate you, Chrissy." Then I screamed it-to the heavens, to the earth, to the ghosts in the shadows: "I HATE YOU!" I stood-slowly, shakily-shivering with rage, humiliation, and something new. Something unfamiliar. Revenge.

A fire I had never known before lit up in my veins. I started walking again-no destination, no plan-just fury to guide me. That's when I heard it. "Hey gorgeous!" The voice sliced through the silence like a blade. I turned slowly. Three men leaned against a run-down van nearby, wearing cheap, brightly colored jumpsuits stained with oil and sweat. The sharp, pungent stench of alcohol hit my nose even before they fully approached. "Oh my God, you are so fine," one of them said, swaggering forward with a sick grin. "Let's have a test." Another whistled crudely. "Which mode of payment do you prefer? Hmm?"

The third one cackled. "How much is your hourly charge, baby girl?" My heart began to pound. I froze. My breath quickened. My legs-already weak and sore-refused to move. "There she is," one of them said, pointing straight at me. "The gorgeous lady of the hour-May." My stomach dropped. How do they know my name? Another one slurred, "The madam was spot on. She said you were a pretty face with a fire body... and that we'd find you here. Hehehe." Madam? Who was this madam?

The man in the middle leaned in closer. His grin widened, more menacing than before. "Guys, I think we should have our time with her before we discard her like she instructed." Discard. That word echoed through my skull like a gunshot. Discard? As in... kill? My body froze again. My thoughts spiraled into chaos. Who is this madam? Who would want me dead? Chrissy?

I backed away slowly, my heart thudding violently in my chest, ready to leap from my ribs. But they kept coming. Closer. Closer.

May POV.

Please. Don't come any closer. Please, I'm begging you. I'm just a broke and miserable woman. Please... spare my life. The words stumbled out of me like broken glass, slicing my throat as they came.

My voice cracked under the weight of sheer despair. My legs trembled violently as I staggered backwards, arms stretched out in front of me like they could somehow shield me from the nightmare unfolding in front of me. The streetlamp above me flickered, throwing jagged silhouettes of my shaking body across the cracked pavement.

I could barely see through my swollen eyes, the aftermath of hours-hours-of crying. And now this. As if the universe had decided to punish me one final time. This was the end, wasn't it? The desperation in my chest clawed its way up to my throat, a raw, animal thing that made it hard to breathe. Death wasn't just a thought-it was right here, looming, a few cruel steps away.

Then one of them stepped forward. He was tall, built like a brick wall, with tobacco-stained teeth and a jagged scar cutting through his left brow. His hand was rough, calloused, and unapologetic as he seized my wrist and yanked me toward him like I was nothing more than a doll. I winced, barely holding in a scream. "Don't worry sweetheart," he said, his voice disturbingly calm, like he was ordering dinner.

"Your life's been paid for. No amount of begging or bargaining's gonna change that." The others behind him laughed. Low, dark chuckles that sent ice down my spine. Their shadows danced around me, predatory and gleeful, like they were circling prey. "We'll make sure you have a pleasurable time before your death," one of them sneered. The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My breath caught. My knees nearly gave out. No. No, no, no. I needed a way out. Any way. And then-an idea sparked. "How much were you paid?" I blurted, forcing strength into my shaking voice. "I'll double it. Just... please, let me go."

I scanned their faces desperately, praying-begging-to see even the tiniest crack of greed. Anything I could exploit. The shortest among them, the one with a crooked nose and breath that smelled like a sewer full of liquor, let out a horrible laugh. "You?" he spat, looking me up and down like I was trash. "You? This lowly wench who just got divorced with nothing to her name?" He leaned in. I gagged at the smell of his breath. "Mrs. Chrissy already warned us you'd try something like this. Said you're a desperate and despicable little thing who'd do anything to worm her way out." Chrissy. The name slipped from my lips like a ghost, barely audible. "Chrissy..." I repeated, louder this time. A fist clenched in my chest. Betrayal. Cold, sharp betrayal. My heart splintered, my voice broke. "After everything I did for you... everything I sacrificed to make your life better... this is how you repay me?" Each word cracked in the air like breaking glass. I could barely stand as the memories surged-nights we laughed, secrets I held, help I gave freely-and now this. She'd paid men to kill me. The men grinned at my recognition like they'd won. "It doesn't matter now that you know," the tall brute said, his voice cold.

"What matters is... today's your end." He cracked his knuckles slowly, with sick anticipation. "And for tricking us into revealing her name... you won't be getting a pleasurable time after all." Their leader-a thick-necked monster with tattoos crawling up his arms-lifted one finger and made a simple gesture. "Do it," he ordered.

Everything happened at once. They lunged for me. I screamed. Kicked. Scratched. But they overpowered me, pinned me down like I was some animal. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear anything else. Then- I heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone. No. No. Not like this. And in that second, one more wild, desperate idea screamed to life in my mind. "I... I just got divorced from Smith!" I shouted. "Smith from Swebb Enterprise! I got 50% of the company in the settlement. I can pay you whatever you want. Triple, even." It was a lie. A bold one. Smith had made me sign a prenup before the wedding. I knew I wasn't getting a dime from him. But they didn't. They didn't need to know.

This was my last card. My only card. Please... let this work. I watched them. Closely. Waiting. They hesitated. The leader froze mid-motion. His hands hovered near his belt. Then they all looked at each other. Their stance shifted, their certainty wobbling. Greed and hesitation danced in their eyes. The leader frowned. "So what are you trying to say?"

Before I could even answer- A car flashed by. Its headlights cut through the dark like a blade. It lit us up like a scene from a horror film. All four of them froze. Then-they ran. Just like that. They vanished. Like cowards. Shadows retreating into the dark. I lay there, stunned. Gasping. My lungs on fire.

My body still trembling with terror and adrenaline. Then instinct kicked in. I scrambled to my feet, heart still hammering. I saw the car's red taillights glowing in the distance and chased after them. "Please!" I shouted, waving both hands in the air. "Please stop!" But the car sped off. Just like that. Gone.