Love Game With The Billionaire

5: Trek down the past

As I readied myself for my second day on the job, the memory of Mr. Volkov's unexpected praise lingered in my mind, fueling a mix of nerves and excitement. I barely stopped smiling yesterday after that lunch. I made him dinner and left the mansion.

His suggestion that we should dine together regularly had left me feeling both flattered and intrigued. A man like Ethan Volkov could have any girl he wanted but he wants to dine with me at his office instead. I am flattered for sure.

I stood in front of my closet, a flurry of clothing options greeted me, each vying for my attention. With a critical eye, I sifted through the garments, checking for any wrinkles or imperfections that might detract from my desired polished appearance.

After a few moments of contemplation, I settled on a casual yet stylish ensemble that struck the perfect balance between comfort and chic. A pair of form-fitting jeans hugged my curves just right, offering flexibility as I moved about the kitchen with ease.

I paired them with a soft, oversized sweater in a flattering shade of pastel pink, its cosy fabric providing warmth without sacrificing style. I don’t want to feel constricted while moving in the kitchen. Comfort comes first.

With my outfit chosen, I spared a final glance in the mirror, adjusting a stray strand of hair and smoothing out any creases in my clothing. Satisfied with my appearance, I made my way to the kitchen, ready to tackle the day's culinary challenges with confidence and flair.

I took a quick coffee then left for the mansion in a hurry. I don’t want to be late today either. I want Mr. Volkov to have my breakfast before he leaves for work.

Today, I was determined to impress him even more. With a sense of purpose, I meticulously planned out the day's menu, selecting ingredients with care and consideration. I moved about the kitchen, the familiar rhythm of chopping and stirring brought a sense of calm amidst the whirlwind of anticipation.

With each dish taking shape under my skilled hands, I couldn't help but feel a surge of giddiness. The thought of sharing another meal with Mr. Volkov later in the afternoon, basking in his presence and perhaps even earning his admiration once again, filled me with a newfound sense of excitement.

Today, I would strive to surpass his expectations and leave him eager for more of my culinary creations. It’s been a long time since I last had a crush on anyone and after that meeting with my ex at the airport, I don’t know what to think of my love life.

I stand in Mr. Volkov's kitchen, the aroma of spices and simmering sauces fills the air, momentarily transporting me from the present to the past. My hands move with practised ease as I chop vegetables, but my mind drifts back to that last encounter with Dylan, my ex-boyfriend.

Dylan's voice rings out, laced with bitterness and accusation. "You cheated on me, Maya. You humiliated me," he spat, his anger palpable even through the phone. "And all because you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth."

His words echo in my mind, each one a painful reminder of our tumultuous relationship. He accused me of cheating, of humiliating him, of lacking trust. He was only focused on his own hurt and not mine.

But he never understood the weight of my secret, the burden of being the daughter of a Russian billionaire. I couldn't confide in him about my true identity, about the arranged marriage that tore us apart before we could even begin to build a future together.

I stir the pot on the stove, I recall the hurt in Dylan's eyes as I ended things abruptly, forced to sever ties with him on the same day we were set to spend the best days of our lives in Russia. We decided to come to my home town and have some fun after bar exams.

My mother's unexpected announcement shattered our plans, leaving Dylan reeling with confusion and anger. She told me right there in front of him that I was marrying Caldwell that very afternoon and there is nothing I can do about it.

My heart clenches at his words, the sting of betrayal still fresh in my mind. I never would have cheated on Dylan even though I knew our relationship was more of a friendship than anything. I am loyal to a f*****g fault.

"I never cheated on you, Dylan," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I couldn't tell you the truth about who I am. You have no idea what it's like to carry this secret, to live in fear of what my father's enemies might do if they found out."

Dylan's tone softens, if only slightly, as he responds. "I know, Maya. I know I can never understand what you're going through. But I thought we had something real, something worth fighting for."

Tears threaten to spill from my eyes as I choke back a sob. "We did, Dylan. We did have something special. But my mother's announcement, the forced marriage... I had no choice but to leave you behind."

I remember the pain of seeing him at the airport, our paths diverging as he left the country angry and heartbroken while I fled from my own wedding.

The memories are still fresh, the wounds still raw, but as I focus on the task at hand, I push aside the lingering ache in my heart, determined to forge a new path for myself, away from the shadows of my past. The past shall be there. I am now Amelia.

And here I am. Going to live another life for however long it takes to be away from my supposed husband’s clutches. I still can’t believe William was really not my father but I’m glad. I now understand him better.

The realisation hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest, leaving me breathless and reeling with disbelief.

How could it be possible? How could I not be William Sterling's daughter? The very foundation of my identity, the cornerstone of my existence, suddenly feels as fragile as glass, threatening to shatter into a million irreparable pieces.

If I'm not his daughter, then what am I? A product of deception, a pawn in a game of betrayal? The thought sends a chill down my spine, leaving me trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion. My mind races with questions, each one more agonising than the last.

And then it hits me with the force of a hurricane: if I'm not his daughter, but Zoe, my older sister, is his real daughter. Which means... which means that my mother cheated on him. She had an affair, she betrayed him, she... she had me.

The revelation is like a dagger to the heart, piercing through the carefully constructed facade of my reality and exposing the raw, painful truth beneath. The woman I've loved and trusted my entire life, the woman who raised me with love and care, is suddenly cast in a different light, her actions tainted with the stain of infidelity.

I feel a wave of nausea wash over me, my stomach churning with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. How could she do this to him? How could she do this to us? The betrayal cuts deeper than any physical wound, leaving me gasping for air as I struggle to come to terms with the enormity of what I've just discovered.

But even as the shock threatens to overwhelm me, a small voice in the back of my mind whispers a single, haunting question: if my mother could betray my father so easily, what else is she capable of? And more importantly, what does that mean for me?

Better yet, what the hell was going on with my life as Maya Sterling? Was she ever going to tell me if I hadn’t ran away?