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Betrayal & Grovel Romance

**Bestselling Marriage in Crisis Romance** #NoCheating “This is without question my favorite Maya’s book. Because it’s so relatable in many…

ways for people in long term relationships or marriages.” —5 Star Reader Review +++++ Chapter 1: Lia When they say that was the last straw, how many others came before it? Can you count them? Do they even matter when the final one hits? For me, the last straw was when Sebastian decided that another work meeting was more important than being there for me, with my daughter and son, when I got my master’s degree in business from Savannah State University. Not only that, but I had graduated at the top of my class and was recognized by being invited to be a student speaker. It was an honor, and as I sat in the front row on stage, waiting for my name to be called, I looked around to see if Sebastian had come. But the seat next to my daughter, Ada, was empty. I had told myself not to expect much, to brace for the inevitable disappointment, but a small, foolish part of me had still hoped. Well, nothing could be done about that now, could it? For the past three years, since Sebastian had taken over his family’s company, Boone Metals, when his father had a stroke, our lives had changed. He’d become obsessed with work—and the man who’d at least made time for his family had disappeared into the caverns of the factory, saving the company. Even as Boone Metals consumed him, even as he missed countless dinners, recitals, and games—he had been there when it mattered most. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. He’d shown up for every one of the kids’ milestones—birthdays and graduations, even if he was perpetually in a hurry to get back to a meeting. The dean of the business school stepped up to the podium, clearing his throat. “And now, it is my honor to introduce a very special graduate, someone who embodies perseverance, resilience, and the courage to reinvent oneself. Please welcome our student speaker, Ophelia Boone.” Applause filled the auditorium. I took a breath, stood, and made my way to the podium. As I stepped in front of the microphone, I scanned the crowded auditorium once more, as if I could have somehow missed him in the sea of faces. But there was no mistaking the truth. I knew Tristan was watching from a FaceTime window on Ada’s phone. Ada was smiling proudly; she was practically vibrating with excitement. Sebastian hadn’t even texted to wish me luck, to say congratulations, or even to apologize for not being able to make it. He had left for work even before I woke up this morning. I swallowed against the lump rising in my throat. I’d spent twenty-two years being his support system, holding together everything with the family and our home while he built a career, traveled the world, and made a name for himself. And when he walked away from his own company to take over Boone Metals, I had been patient as he buried himself in salvaging his family’s legacy, waiting for him to come up for air—to see me. But I wasn’t his legacy, and since the kids left home, they and I both realized they weren’t, either. The family company always came first. I shrugged off the disappointment. No way was I going to let Sebastian take away from today’s joy. I smiled broadly and began to speak. “It’s truly an honor to be here—especially because, honestly, I never thought I’d make it. At forty-four, I’m one of the oldest in our cohort…well, aside from Jim.” Some clapping and laughter followed. “He and I partnered on a lot of our projects. We were called the ‘Geriatric Duo.’” More laughter. “Twenty-one years ago, when I found out I was pregnant with my oldest child, my son, Tristan, I put my professional dreams on hold. And I don’t regret it—not for a second. I raised two incredible children, built a life, and supported my husband. I built a family I’m very proud of. But somewhere along the way, I forgot someone important: myself.” I looked at Ada, who nodded animatedly and gave me a thumbs-up. “I came back to school thinking I was too old, too out of place. I wondered if I was making a mistake. But what I learned here—what we all learned—is that growth has no deadline. Reinvention has no expiration date. And the world won’t hand you a second chance—you have to reach for it yourself.” I took a deep breath, the words spilling out of me. I’d practiced them for the past week, but they didn’t feel rehearsed. They seemed to come from deep within me, speaking my truth. “For those of us who took the unconventional path, who started later, who juggled jobs and families and late-night study sessions—we did it. We proved to ourselves that we are more than what we’ve been, more than what others expect from us. Today isn’t just a celebration of what we’ve achieved. It’s a reminder that it’s never too late to become who we were meant to be. So, let’s go out there. Let’s build, let’s create, let’s start over if we have to. Let’s never stop becoming.” As I returned to my seat on stage, the applause was loud, and I grinned when I saw Ada jumping up and down, holding the phone, because she couldn’t quite clap. I was sure Tristan was telling her to stand still because everything was shaking for him on screen. There were a few more speeches, but I barely heard them. My pulse pounded in my ears as I sat with my hands clasped tightly in my lap. Then, finally, the moment came. One by one, the graduates crossed the stage, their names echoing through the auditorium, followed by cheers from family and friends. My breath caught as the line moved forward. Then— "Ophelia Boone." I stood, straightened my gown, and walked forward, my heels clicking against the polished stage floor. For a brief moment, I felt the pressures of the past few years—the late-night study sessions, endless assignments, and the struggle of balancing coursework with running a home. All the time, I wondered if I was crazy for starting over at this stage in my life. But once I shook the dean’s hand, and accepted my diploma, that pressure lifted away. I had a degree. My degree. A smattering of applause rang out, and through the noise, one voice rose above the rest—Ada, shouting, “Go, Mama! That’s my mama, y’all. Isn’t she awesome?” I let out a breathless laugh, a rush of pride, relief, and disbelief flooding through me. I held the diploma tight, feeling its substance in my hands—proof that I had done this, that it wasn’t just an idea or a dream anymore. As I made my way back to my seat, the initial rush of triumph gave way to excitement laced with fear. The degree was only the beginning. Now came the real challenge. I had no job lined up and no concrete plan on how to find one. I wasn’t young and fresh out of school. I was forty-four, starting from scratch. Who would take a chance on me? Would my skills mean anything to an employer after spending decades as a wife and mother? Doubt crept in, cold and insidious, but I pushed it back. I had come too far to let fear win now. Ada hugged me when I made it out to the garden, nearly knocking the diploma from my hands as she squeezed me tight. “I’m so proud of you, Mama!” She beamed at me. I sank into the warmth of the moment and my daughter—wrapping around me like sunshine. “I can’t believe it’s over,” I admitted, shaking my head. “After all those late nights and coffee-fueled study sessions…I actually did it.” Ada grinned. “And you killed that speech! Seriously, people were moved. One lady in the row behind me was crying.” I chuckled, brushing a stray hair from my face. “I was just trying to make it through without tripping over my words.” “Well, you didn’t trip at all! You were amazing.” She looped her arm through mine as we strolled along the pathway. “So…how does it feel to be officially done?” I exhaled, glancing around at the other graduates celebrating with their families. Some had jobs lined up already, futures mapped out. I had nothing but an empty house to return to. “I feel relieved and…proud,” I confessed. “I also feel a little like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump.” I let out a nervous laugh. “I need a job, Ada. And I have no idea who’s going to hire a forty-four-year-old MBA graduate with zero experience in the field.” Ada nudged me playfully. “Mama, you ran our entire household for decades. You managed finances, schedules, and logistics. You basically have CEO-level experience—you just didn’t get paid for it.” I smiled at her optimism, even as doubt lingered at the edges of my mind. “I hope someone else sees it that way.” “They will,” she assured me firmly. “And if they don’t, they’re idiots.” “Well, no one ever called me an idiot,” a stern voice from behind us said. I turned to see Betsy Rhodes. The Betsy Rhodes—the First Lady of the Savannah society scene, married to Atticus Rhodes of the Rhodes Family. She was not from the South; in fact, she was from Boston. She was known for being blunt and wielding her influence with pleasure and precision. I swallowed. “Mrs. Rhodes.” “Betsy, please. Mrs. Rhodes was Atticus’s mama, and she was an absolute nightmare. May God rest her soul.” She grinned mischievously. “How are you, Lia?” Betsy Rhodes looked regal in her Chanel peach-colored skirt suit. She had an air about her that made you want to bow to her like you would a queen. “Very well, thank you. Ah…this is my daughter Ada.” Betsy held out her hand and shook Ada’s. “And what do you do, Ada?” Ada, who had no fear, and self-esteem in the gazillions—if there was a counter for it, didn’t seem to care, even if she knew that Betsy was one of the most powerful women in Savannah. “I’m studying public policy at Emory.” “And what do you want to do when you grow up?” Betsy asked, bemused. “I want to be a public servant. Hopefully, one day, represent Georgia in Congress.” Her confidence made me proud because I’d never have been able to dream the way she did, had never been allowed to. Betsy nodded. “How wonderful. You have an older brother?” She raised an inquiring eyebrow. I wondered how she knew that. I mean, everyone knew about the Rhodes family, but she didn’t know everyone else’s. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law would kill to be invited to one of her exclusive soirees, but I, not so much. I wasn’t part of the Savannah society scene. I was a soccer mom, then I became a student, and now…I was in limbo. I had been to the parties I couldn't avoid, but I stayed as far away as I could from the society set, which I thought was vapid and uninteresting. My close friends were from my days in New York and at NYU, where I was still on a group chat. We did Zoom cocktails at least once a month and met up once a year. In Savannah, I had acquaintances, usually the mothers of the children my kids befriended. Some of them were awesome, and we got along, but some were stuck up, and we didn’t. According to my mother-in-law, Dolly, and Sebastian’s sister, Colette, who went by Coco, my lack of pedigree—as in I was born and raised in New Jersey in a middle-class home—meant that I lacked social skills. This hadn’t been a problem while Sebastian wasn’t running Boone Metals, but now he was, and they were more in my face than ever, and, even worse, my husband wanted me to get along well with them for the sake of business. “My brother is finishing up his master’s in social work at NYU,” Ada stated, her head held high. “He’s working as an intern at the public defender’s office in Queens right now.” Betsy looked at me with admiration. “You certainly have raised two very socially conscious children, Lia. Congratulations.” I stilled at that. No one in Sebastian’s family ever said that to me. According to them, the kids should be working toward taking over Boone Metals. I’d told my babies to do what they wanted, and when Sebastian pressured them, I stood in front of them, pushing him back. It was one thing for me to comply with his wishes but quite another for our children to give up their dreams in the name of a legacy they didn’t want to have anything to do with. “Thank you. They are pretty awesome. But I think it’s despite me and not because of me.” Ada put an arm around me. “Aw, Mama, you know that’s not true.” “So, Lia, is this MBA thing a vanity project, or do you want to do something with it?” Betsy sounded insolent, and I felt Ada stiffen. “Mama is not vain,” she quipped politely but definitively. Oh God! It wouldn’t do for her to piss off the First Lady of Savannah, which was not a city but rather a small village, considering how everyone knew everyone and their business. Betsy didn’t seem to take offense, and just waved a hand. “Darling, nothing wrong with a vanity project—hell, I have a few.” Then she focused back on me. “You want a job, Lia?” “Yes.” “What kind?” “I...I—” Don’t know? “That’s fine. You have to figure it out; that’s how first jobs are.” Betsy looked over her shoulder. “Maggie, darling, can you take Lia’s contact info and book her a meeting with Nina Davenport.” She faced me again. “Nina is a good friend, and she’s the CEO of—” “Savannah Lace,” Ada cut in. “She’s…she’s awesome.” Betsy smiled. “She is. Do you know her?” “I know of her!” Ada gushed. “Award-winning female CEO in Savannah who likes to hire all women…she’s cool. I know her daughter Bianca. I was her mentor in high school for a project we did on historic buildings in Savannah.” Suddenly, she beamed. “Actually, I’ve met your daughter-in-law through Bianca. Aurora Rhodes! I just didn’t put two and two together.” Betsy almost strutted when she heard her daughter-in-law’s name. “Aurora is brilliant. Honestly, so much smarter than my son…but then women are always smarter than men.” Dolly would never say anything like that about me. Maggie, who I assumed was Betsy’s assistant, stepped up next to her boss. “Of course, Betsy, I’ll put Lia in touch with Nina.” “Tell Nina it’s about the Back To Work project that we discussed last Sunday,” Betsy continued. Then she gave Ada and me an appraising glance. “You know, you should come to my salon. We have one once a month, and we invite smart women like you. We eat good food, drink good wine, and talk. Maggie, can you invite them to the next one?” “Yes, Betsy.” Maggie was taking notes on a tablet, not flustered at all. “Betsy, you have to leave now to make the meeting with the History Museum.” Betsy groaned. “Speaking of vanity projects,” she muttered. “Fine. Now, let’s find Phoebe so I can hug her one last time before we leave.” She looked around and waved at someone. “That’s my Goddaughter; she graduated today as well; that’s why I’m here.” We met Phoebe, and while she talked to Ada, Maggie got my contact information. “What was that?” Ada whisper-yelled after Betsy and her entourage left. I bit my lower lip. “I don’t know. Do you think she was serious about the job thing? I’d love to work at Savannah Lace…as I don’t know what but…anything.” “I think she was,” Ada said with more certainty than I felt. “Nina Davenport has a reputation for helping women and…I met Aurora Rhodes; she came to school when Bianca was presenting the project I mentored her on. I don’t know much about the ins and outs of Savannah society, but even I know of Betsy Rhodes.” “She’s intense, isn’t she?” Ada nodded thoughtfully. “You know I’m not petty, don’t you, Mama?” “Of course, baby girl.” I knew exactly where her head was at. “But it would be rather nice to be invited to one of Betsy Rhodes’ famous salons.” Ada chuckled. “It’s gonna burn Grandma and Aunt Coco’s asses.” “For sure. But that’s not why I want us to go to this salon. It sounds like a great place to meet smart women like us.” I winked. Ada giggled. “No kidding.” ++++++ Chapter 2: Sebastian The first text came through just as I put my water glass down. Tristan: You didn’t show up. Five minutes later, the second one hit. Tristan: Unbelievable! A second later, another one, this time from my daughter. Ada: Are you serious? I sent back a message to both of them: I’m sorry, guys. I’ll make it up to your mother. It had become my standard excuse whenever I missed a family-related event. I usually made it up to them—but lately, and by lately, I meant the past three years since I took over Boone Metals—I barely had time for anything that wasn’t work-related. Even meals were more about business than family, eaten with customers, colleagues, and partners. I couldn’t remember the last time Lia and I had dinner together—just the two of us, no phones, no interruptions. We ate together every Sunday night because we went to dinner at my parents’ place; it was tradition, and not making it to dinner created too many uncomfortable conversations I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with, so it was easier to just have a meal with my family. I had thought that since my father had mellowed after his stroke, Sunday dinner would become less stuffy—but it hadn’t worked out that way. My sister’s husband, Bryce, worked at Boone Metals and was pissed because Dad had asked me to take over the company and not him. But I was the son, and this was still the South, and things were done a certain way. In addition, Bryce was a fvck up and part of the problem, as far as I was concerned, as to why the company had been teetering on the edge of bankruptcy when I took over. And we’d just reached a place of stability when this past quarter went tits up. It had taken work. An enormous amount of it. In the past two years, I’d been able to share the work and the burden with my Chief Operating Officer, Jane Gipson, whom I’d been lucky to hire. We’d become a formidable team. My phone beeped again. Ada: Whatever, Dad. In case you care, here is the video of her speech. I closed my eyes, sucked in a breath, and let it out in frustration. The finance meeting I’d attended instead of Lia’s graduation ceremony had been a disaster—another quarter in the red, another round of cost-cutting that barely put a dent in the problem. Boone Metals was a sinking ship, and I was bailing water with my bare hands. Across from me, Jane picked up her glass of iced tea, studying me with sharp blue eyes. “You look like hell.” I ignored that and tapped out a response to my kids. Me: Thanks, baby girl. I’ll fix this. I promise. What did that even mean? What was I going to fix, and with whom? The company? The kids? Lia? After the interminable meeting, Jane suggested we move our lunch from my office to The Olde Pink House. I didn’t mind. It was a break from the monotony, and besides, we had to head to the factory later—a solid forty-five-minute drive from Savannah, assuming traffic wasn’t a nightmare. We had a meeting with the head of supply chain to sort out yet another issue with raw material shipments. The problems were never-ending. I ran a hand over my face. “Lia’s graduation was today. I didn’t go.” Jane gave a sharp nod of approval. “We had the quarterly meeting.” Yeah, we did, and…I should’ve at least sent Lia a message. Now, it felt like it was too late and what would I say? Hey, couldn’t make it because of a meeting, and now I’m having lunch with a colleague. I wearily looked around the restaurant, which had stood since the eighteenth century, its pale pink walls sheltering locals and tourists alike. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over polished wood floors, and waiters in crisp white shirts weaved through the dining room with plates of shrimp and grits, fried flounder, and she-crab soup. It was Savannah charm at its finest, and I’d barely touched my meal, even though when we got here, I was starving. “I know! The kids are pissed with me.” I sighed. Jane arched a brow. “Has Lia said anything?” I shook my head. Lia would never. My wife was the exact opposite of Jane—the woman everyone half-joked was my “work wife.” Where Jane was blonde, polished, and built like she belonged on the cover of a business magazine—power suit tailored to perfection, legs always crossed just so, her manicured fingers designed to be curled around a glass of an expensive drink—but Lia was petite, soft-spoken, the quintessential girl next door. Jane thrived in boardrooms and high-pressure negotiations. Lia, on the other hand, had always found her rhythm at home, which was why I didn’t know what to do with her sudden, out-of-nowhere decision to get an MBA. But I thought, fine, let her go back to school; then, at least, she’d be out of my hair. I felt guilty as soon as I thought that. Lia was never a bother. She was the most patient wife a man could have. No, her studying and being busy made me feel less guilty for spending all my time at work. If she was in classes and working on projects and exams, I was wholly entitled to pull in the long hours, since I was the breadwinner. That had been how we’d divided our marriage—she took care of the house and the kids, and I took care of everything else. It had been working just fine until I took over Boone Metals. “No, Lia hasn’t said a thing.” I huffed out a short breath. “But I should have been there.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Sebastian, come on. It’s not like it was a real degree. An MBA? From Savannah State?” She shook her head, amused. “Your wife can’t expect you to drop everything. You’re running a company. You’re dealing with several crises.” A flicker of irritation ran through me at how dismissive she sounded about Lia. But the truth was, I’d been saying the same thing for years—that the business had to come first, that Lia had to get with that. And she had. She did. Lia had sent me the invite for the graduation ceremony well in advance and even asked my PA to put it on my calendar. I had chosen not to move the quarterly finance meeting, even though Kayla, my PA, had asked if she should. Why hadn’t I? I rubbed the back of my neck. I didn’t like the way Jane made Lia seem irrelevant. Unimportant. But could I really blame her? Like Jane, I saw Lia’s pursuit of a graduate degree as little more than a vanity project—something to fill the void after the kids moved out. Which was fine, but why did I have to get dragged into it? I tapped my fingers on the table. “I’ll make it up to her.” Jane sighed and put her hand on mine. “Sebastian,” she murmured, “you have bigger things to worry about than your wife’s bruised feelings. She’s married to the CEO of a company, and that comes with responsibilities. She knows that, doesn’t she?” I nodded because Lia did, but the uneasy feeling in my gut didn’t go away. And that feeling only exploded when, after I dropped my credit card on the bill, I heard my baby girl’s voice. “Dad?” “Ada, darlin’.” I immediately rose, my mood lightening. My children made me happy. Since they’d moved out of our home, I didn’t see them much, so when I did, it was always a pleasure. I hugged her, my hands gripping her tightly like I could smooth over whatever had cracked between us with sheer force because something had. I’d been feeling it for months. “How wonderful to see you.” “Hello, Ada.” Jane smiled. “Hi,” Ada said it almost perfunctorily, sending Jane a flat, unimpressed stare. She looked like a mini-Lia—petite, graceful, that same Audrey Hepburn elegance. But her eyes, sharp and blue, were mine. And right now, they were locked on me with anger and disappointment. Jane gave a dramatic tilt of her head as she picked up her phone. “Sebastian, we have another meeting at the factory,” she warned, giving me an out from talking to Ada, which she knew would mean grief for me. But this was my daughter, and I didn’t need anyone to run interference for me. “Dad…ah…can I talk to you for a minute?” Ada asked, though she was already half-pulling me away from the table. Her fingers curled around mine with purpose, and I followed her without resistance, sensing whatever was coming wasn’t going to be easy. She led me into a quiet hallway near one of the side exits, the soft hum of the wake fading behind us. The moment we were alone, she stopped and turned to face me—her jaw set, eyes sharp. This wasn’t my daughter asking for advice. This was Ada, the woman her mother raised—brilliant, steady, and about to tell me exactly what was on her mind. “You need to leave and not use the front door.” I frowned. “What?” “You’re going to walk out that door”—she pointed to the exit we were standing by—“so, Mama, who is sitting close to the front door, won’t see you.” Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “We’re celebrating, and seeing you here with…no, I won’t let you ruin this for her.” “Your mother is here?” I asked, baffled. “Yes, Dad, we came to celebrate her graduation.” Her voice was laced with disgust. “She was at the top of her class and gave an amazing speech…all of which you missed.” I couldn’t understand why she was angry. Sure, I missed the damn ceremony, but if Lia was okay with it, I didn’t think it was Ada’s business. I exhaled. “Ada, I told Lia I might not be able to make it. She knew.” She took a step closer. “You missed a big, important event, Dad. And where were you?” She threw a glance toward the dining room. “Having lunch with her.” I clenched my jaw. “Jane is a colleague.” “I don’t care who she is,” Ada shot back. “Do you know how Mama felt, standing on stage, looking for you? Waiting for you to come through those doors? And when she finally realized you weren’t going to—” She broke off, her throat working as she swallowed. “She acted like it didn’t matter. But it did.” I sighed and raked a hand through my hair. “I have a crisis at work. I have an important meeting after lunch, too…it’s just the way it is right now, Ada, once things settle—” “Dad, you’ve been saying that for three years, and you’ve lost all credibility with all of us—and by all of us, I mean your wife, your son, and your daughter. Though Jane probably still trusts your word.” “Ada, I’m still your father, so you need to watch how you speak to me.” This wasn’t my sweet baby girl. No matter what issues Lia and I may have had, we never let that bleed onto our kids. “Right, glad you remember that even though you’ve forgotten Mama is your wife.” I growled. “Watch it, young lady.” She just shook her head. “Just take the other exit, okay? That’s all you have to do.” She spoke as if that was all she was expecting from me. “Why don’t we go have a glass of champagne with your mother?” I looked at my watch. I could spend fifteen minutes with Lia, and see if Kayla would move my meeting by that much time at the factory. Ada let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know, Dad. I think it might upset Mama to celebrate her big day with you and your mistress.” I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “Are you out of your—” I started, but she shook her head. “I’m not going to argue with you while Mama is waiting for me.” She gave a firm shake of her head. “But I’m also not going to let Mama see you with her, so she’s smacked in the face with what was more important to you than your wife. So, I’ll be grateful to you if you walk out that door.” She pointed to the back exit again. “Thank you in advance for your consideration.” “Ada—” She turned on her heel. “Enjoy your work lunch,” she threw back over her shoulder. I stood frozen, watching my daughter disappear into the dining room, her words ricocheting inside me like a bullet. For the first time in my life, Ada had spoken to me like I was an a$$hole, and it hurt like a motherfvcker.

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