He Chased His Ex, I Axed the Vows

"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?"