The Maid Steals My Billionaire Husband - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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The girl standing before me couldn't have been more than eighteen, her bright eyes brimming with curiosity. She tilted her head, studying me with that unmistakable spark—the kind only youth possesses. "Eleanor," she asked, "why are you crying?"
She looked exactly like me—or rather, like I had twenty years ago. Same features, same smile, but untouched by time.
Her gaze darted around the hospital room, restless. "What are you doing here? Where's Benjamin? Did you two—" She hesitated, hopeful. "Did it work out? Are you happy?"
Her eagerness made my smile waver.
For a long moment, I stayed quiet, still half-lost in the dream. Finally, I murmured, "We've been married... ten years now."
Young Eleanor's eyes lit up. She stepped closer, zeroing in on the diamond glinting on my finger. "Whoa. Is that the ring Benjamin gave you?"
I glanced down at it, then nodded.
"Yeah," I said softly. "He called it one-of-a-kind. Said when he proposed, he finally found the love of his life."
Her cheeks flushed pink. "Since when did Benjamin get so smooth? He used to be such a clueless guy!" She giggled, then pressed, "But he still loves you, right? I mean—after fighting so hard to win you over?"
She puffed out her chest, proud. "He must really adore you if he put in that much effort."
And he had. From his first confession to the proposal, Benjamin had been relentless—heart-stoppingly sincere.
Even now, I could picture it: the way his eyes had shone, soft and awed, like he'd stumbled upon something precious. "You... you actually said yes," he'd whispered, stealing glances as if I might vanish.
I'd smirked, teasing. "What if I change my mind?"
"Then I'll just have to work harder to make Mrs. Davis happy," he shot back, grinning.
For a second, I got lost in that memory—the way his smile crinkled his eyes, the warmth of his hand in mine.
Ten years later, and here I was. Just... Mrs. Davis.
A frustrated huff snapped me back. Young Eleanor was scowling. "But why are you in the hospital? Where is he? Shouldn't Benjamin be here by now?"
As if on cue, the door creaked open.
And there he was—Benjamin, fashionably late as usual.
Except... he walked right past her. Like she wasn't even there.
Like only I could see her.
Benjamin crashed through the door, his usually perfect hair a mess, chest heaving like he'd run a marathon. "Jesus, Eleanor—are you okay? What did the doctor say?"
His eyes raked over me, frantic, only settling when he saw I wasn't bleeding or broken. As he pulled me into a hug, that scent hit me—cloying, floral, wrong. Not my perfume. Not us.
Then I saw it: his third button mismatched, a smudge of red peeking beneath his collar. Benjamin never made mistakes like this. My stomach twisted.
I barely had time to turn before I was retching into the nearest bin.
"Doctor! Now!" Benjamin barked, panic sharp in his voice.
After tests, the verdict came: no crisis. Just a surprise—three months pregnant. Given my history of poor health, the doctor warned this would be a delicate road.
Benjamin froze. Crushed his cigarette. "I'll... arrange care for you," he rasped. "Call if you need anything."
I said nothing. Just studied him—this man who used to light up at my touch, now a stranger wearing my husband's face.
The old Benjamin would've gaped like a fish, whispered "Eleanor... I'm gonna be a dad?" before sweeping me into a spin, grinning like an idiot. "I'll love you twice as hard now, sweetheart. You're my whole world."
This version? His gaze kept snagging on the door. I'd already caught the flicker of white fabric outside—Mia's dress. The second it disappeared, so did whatever was left of his attention.
He lasted five silent minutes before grabbing his coat. "Work's a nightmare right now. I should—"
The door clicked shut before I could reply.
He practically ran. Just like he used to—eighteen and relentless, always at my heels like I hung the moon.
Young Eleanor materialized beside me, arms crossed. "Unbelievable. Since when does work trump you?"
Since never.
Once, he'd blown off a Fortune 500 meeting because I spiked a 102° fever. Flew cross-country with a bag of my favorite soup, spent three days mopping my brow.
"Nothing matters more than you," he'd murmur into my hair. "You're my always, Eleanor."
Now those words dissolved like smoke.
She looked exactly like me—or rather, like I had twenty years ago. Same features, same smile, but untouched by time.
Her gaze darted around the hospital room, restless. "What are you doing here? Where's Benjamin? Did you two—" She hesitated, hopeful. "Did it work out? Are you happy?"
Her eagerness made my smile waver.
For a long moment, I stayed quiet, still half-lost in the dream. Finally, I murmured, "We've been married... ten years now."
Young Eleanor's eyes lit up. She stepped closer, zeroing in on the diamond glinting on my finger. "Whoa. Is that the ring Benjamin gave you?"
I glanced down at it, then nodded.
"Yeah," I said softly. "He called it one-of-a-kind. Said when he proposed, he finally found the love of his life."
Her cheeks flushed pink. "Since when did Benjamin get so smooth? He used to be such a clueless guy!" She giggled, then pressed, "But he still loves you, right? I mean—after fighting so hard to win you over?"
She puffed out her chest, proud. "He must really adore you if he put in that much effort."
And he had. From his first confession to the proposal, Benjamin had been relentless—heart-stoppingly sincere.
Even now, I could picture it: the way his eyes had shone, soft and awed, like he'd stumbled upon something precious. "You... you actually said yes," he'd whispered, stealing glances as if I might vanish.
I'd smirked, teasing. "What if I change my mind?"
"Then I'll just have to work harder to make Mrs. Davis happy," he shot back, grinning.
For a second, I got lost in that memory—the way his smile crinkled his eyes, the warmth of his hand in mine.
Ten years later, and here I was. Just... Mrs. Davis.
A frustrated huff snapped me back. Young Eleanor was scowling. "But why are you in the hospital? Where is he? Shouldn't Benjamin be here by now?"
As if on cue, the door creaked open.
And there he was—Benjamin, fashionably late as usual.
Except... he walked right past her. Like she wasn't even there.
Like only I could see her.
Benjamin crashed through the door, his usually perfect hair a mess, chest heaving like he'd run a marathon. "Jesus, Eleanor—are you okay? What did the doctor say?"
His eyes raked over me, frantic, only settling when he saw I wasn't bleeding or broken. As he pulled me into a hug, that scent hit me—cloying, floral, wrong. Not my perfume. Not us.
Then I saw it: his third button mismatched, a smudge of red peeking beneath his collar. Benjamin never made mistakes like this. My stomach twisted.
I barely had time to turn before I was retching into the nearest bin.
"Doctor! Now!" Benjamin barked, panic sharp in his voice.
After tests, the verdict came: no crisis. Just a surprise—three months pregnant. Given my history of poor health, the doctor warned this would be a delicate road.
Benjamin froze. Crushed his cigarette. "I'll... arrange care for you," he rasped. "Call if you need anything."
I said nothing. Just studied him—this man who used to light up at my touch, now a stranger wearing my husband's face.
The old Benjamin would've gaped like a fish, whispered "Eleanor... I'm gonna be a dad?" before sweeping me into a spin, grinning like an idiot. "I'll love you twice as hard now, sweetheart. You're my whole world."
This version? His gaze kept snagging on the door. I'd already caught the flicker of white fabric outside—Mia's dress. The second it disappeared, so did whatever was left of his attention.
He lasted five silent minutes before grabbing his coat. "Work's a nightmare right now. I should—"
The door clicked shut before I could reply.
He practically ran. Just like he used to—eighteen and relentless, always at my heels like I hung the moon.
Young Eleanor materialized beside me, arms crossed. "Unbelievable. Since when does work trump you?"
Since never.
Once, he'd blown off a Fortune 500 meeting because I spiked a 102° fever. Flew cross-country with a bag of my favorite soup, spent three days mopping my brow.
"Nothing matters more than you," he'd murmur into my hair. "You're my always, Eleanor."
Now those words dissolved like smoke.
End of The Maid Steals My Billionaire Husband Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to The Maid Steals My Billionaire Husband book page.