The Maid Steals My Billionaire Husband - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

The divorce never happened. Benjamin seemed stunned for a split second by my words, but then he quickly snapped back to his usual composed self.
"No," he said firmly. "I won't agree to it."
"Let's talk this through like adults," he continued, his voice softening in that infuriatingly patient way of his. "You can't just keep throwing the word 'divorce' around like it's nothing."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We've been married for ten years, Eleanor. Ten years. And now you're pregnant—what kind of message would that send if we split up? People would talk."
Then, as if that settled it, he shifted gears effortlessly. "Look, if Mia's the problem, I'll hire someone else. Anyone you want. Just say the word."
With the same casual ease as someone handing over a business card, he slid a black credit card across the table toward me. "Take it. Buy whatever you want. Just... stop being upset. If there's something bothering you, tell me."
Typical Benjamin—always the generous, successful husband, always thinking money could smooth over everything.
I stared at the card, probably loaded with close to a million, and let out a bitter laugh.
Was this really where we were now? That he thought he could buy my silence, my happiness, like some expensive trinket?
"No thanks," I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "I'll have my lawyer draw up the papers. It won't take much of your precious time."
"Eleanor!" His composure cracked, his voice rising. "I said no! We are not getting divorced!"
He paced, frustration tightening his jaw. "You're about to be a mother, for God's sake. Can you at least try to act like one? Think about the baby. Think about our families—what will they say?"
He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "When are you going to grow up? You're not some reckless teenager anymore."
A heavy silence fell between us. Then, with a final dismissive wave, he turned away. "I'm done with this. Think about what I said. I'm going to work."
The door slammed behind him, leaving me alone in the cavernous living room.
Mia, who had been hovering nearby like a nervous shadow, finally found her voice. "Ben—I mean, Mr. Davis... he's been under so much pressure lately. Madam, you really shouldn't—"
I cut her off with a glare. "Who gave you permission to speak to me?"
My words were ice. "Do you actually take pride in being the other woman?"
She flinched, her face draining of color. Tears welled up instantly—those perfect, practiced tears. If Benjamin had been here, he would've rushed to console her. But he wasn't.
It was just me. And I wasn't playing along.
"I'll pay you to leave," I said coolly. "Wouldn't that be better for everyone?"
Mia shook her head, trembling, the picture of wounded innocence.
I tilted my head. "What do you think your university would say if they found out about this?"
Her breath hitched.
"Mia," I said softly. "How long are you going to keep pretending you're the victim here?"
She fled the villa in tears, her fragile act crumbling under the weight of reality.
The poor girl's heart just couldn't take the truth.