The Wrong Billionaire

DIANA POV

"Good evening, Ms. Sanders." The doorman tips his cap as I breeze past him into the lobby. "Mr. Thomas wasn't expecting you."

"He never is," I call back over my shoulder, grinning. "That's half the fun."

I press the elevator button and check my phone. Three missed calls from Sebastian, all from this afternoon. Odd. He usually texts. But I'm not worried-I'm excited. It's been two weeks since I've seen him properly, and I've been counting down the hours. Tonight, we're supposed to have dinner. Just us. No family, no business, no Sofia hovering in the background like a storm cloud.

The elevator dings. I step in, press the penthouse button, and lean against the mirrored wall.

"Please be home," I murmur to my reflection. "Please be in a good mood."

The doors slide open on his floor. I use my key-he gave it to me six months ago, said I was the only woman who had one-and let myself in.

"Sebastian?" My voice echoes through the foyer. "It's me. I brought wine. The expensive kind you pretend not to care about but secretly love."

No answer.

I frown. His jacket is draped over the arm of the sofa, his phone charger dangling from the wall, his laptop open on the coffee table with a half-empty glass of whiskey beside it. That's not unusual. Sebastian leaves a trail of himself everywhere he goes. But the apartment feels different tonight. Heavier. Like the air itself is holding its breath.

"Sebastian?" I try again, louder this time. "You better not be in the shower ignoring me."

I walk down the hallway, my heels clicking against the marble. The door to his bedroom is closed. I can hear voices-muffled, but unmistakably two people. A low laugh. A softer giggle.

My stomach tightens.

"He's probably on a call," I tell myself, stopping a few feet from the door. "A business call. With Richard. Or Nathaniel. Or-"

Another laugh. This one is distinctly female.

I approach the door slowly, expecting an innocent explanation for why he hasn't answered my calls.

I push the door open.

The first thing I see is the shirt. Sebastian's white button-down, crumpled on the floor. The second thing I see is the shoes. Sofia's. The red heels she borrowed from me last month and never returned.

The third thing I see is them.

Sebastian is in bed. Sofia is beside him. His arm is draped across her waist, her head resting on his chest, the sheets tangled around their legs. For several seconds, I cannot move. I cannot speak. I cannot even breathe.

My brain refuses to accept what my eyes are seeing. This is a mistake. This has to be a mistake. Maybe I'm dreaming. Maybe I walked into the wrong apartment. Maybe-

Sebastian turns his head. His eyes meet mine.

"Oh," he says.

Oh.

That's it. That's all he says. No scrambling. No apology. No guilt. Just oh, like I've interrupted a conversation instead of catching him in bed with my sister.

"Diana?" Sofia sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her voice is soft, almost sweet. Almost innocent. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I-" The words die in my throat. I look at her. I look at him. I look at the two of them together, in the bed I've slept in, in the sheets I picked out, in the apartment I helped him decorate. "What am I doing here?"

"I thought you were coming tomorrow," Sebastian says. He runs a hand through his hair, completely unbothered. "You said Friday."

"It is Friday."

He glances at his phone on the nightstand. "Huh. So it is."

Sofia shifts closer to him, her fingers trailing along his arm. She's not embarrassed. She's not ashamed. She's looking at me like I'm the one who's done something wrong.

"Diana, you should have called," she says. "We would have-"

"Don't." My voice comes out sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. "Don't you dare tell me I should have called."

Sofia's eyes widen, but she doesn't flinch. She's always been good at pretending to be the victim. "I'm just saying-"

"You're just saying?" I step into the room, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. "You're in my boyfriend's bed, Sofia. My boyfriend. My sister."

"Half-sister," she corrects quietly.

Sebastian sighs. He actually sighs, like I'm the one being unreasonable. "Diana, calm down."

"Calm down?" I laugh, and the sound is ugly, broken. "You're cheating on me with my sister, and you want me to calm down?"

"We didn't plan this," Sofia says, reaching for Sebastian's hand. He lets her take it. He lets her lace her fingers through his like I'm not even standing here. "It just happened."

"It just happened?"

"These things happen," Sebastian says with a shrug. "You know how it is."

I stare at him. I stare at the man I've loved for two years. The man I sacrificed for. The man I defended to my parents, to my friends, to anyone who would listen. The man I thought was building a future with me.

"You know how it is," I repeat slowly. "That's what you're going with?"

He doesn't answer. He just looks at me like I'm the inconvenience. Like I'm the one who's ruined his night.

"I called you," I say, my voice cracking. "Three times. I brought wine. I-I was excited to see you."

"That's sweet," he says, and it sounds like a dismissal. "But maybe you should go. We can talk about this later."

"Later?" I feel the tears building behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I won't give them that. "You want to talk about this later?"

"Diana, don't make a scene."

Don't make a scene.

The two people I trusted most in the world are in bed together, and he's telling me not to make a scene. Sofia is still holding his hand, still looking at me with that fake, sympathetic smile, and Sebastian is looking at me like I'm the one who's overreacting.

My shock turns to heartbreak. My heartbreak turns to disbelief.

And then, slowly, something else begins to burn in my chest. Something hot and sharp and unforgiving. I look at Sebastian, at his smug, careless face, and I realize-he's not sorry. He's not even close to sorry.

Sofia tilts her head, her smile widening just a fraction. "You should probably go, Diana. You're upset. It's not good for you."

I open my mouth to respond, to scream, to do something, but no words come. Because she's right. I am upset. I'm devastated. I'm humiliated.

But I'm not broken. Not yet.

And as I stand there, staring at the two of them together, I make a silent promise to myself. They will regret this. Both of them. They will regret this more than they have ever regretted anything in their lives.

The realization hits me like a physical blow: the two people I trusted most have betrayed me.

I don't beg.

The thought solidifies in my mind like a vow. I will not fall to my knees. I will not ask him why. I will not give Sofia the satisfaction of seeing me break.

I turn away from the bed and walk toward the door.

"Diana." Sebastian's voice stops me. Not because it's pleading. Not because there's regret in it. It's flat. Annoyed. "Where are you going?"

I don't turn around. "Home."

"Come on." I hear the rustle of sheets, the creak of the mattress. "Let's talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about." My hand finds the doorknob. "You made your choice."

"I didn't choose-"

"Yes, you did." Now I turn. I look at him-at both of them-and I feel my heart splintering in my chest. "You chose her. Every time you called her instead of me. Every time you lied about where you were. Every time you let me believe we were building something real. You chose her."

Sebastian runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "You're being dramatic."

"I'm being honest." My voice is shaking now, but I don't care. "Something you clearly know nothing about."

Sofia leans against the headboard, the sheet slipping slightly. She doesn't bother to fix it. She wants me to see. She wants me to know exactly what she's taken. "Diana, sweetie, you should probably go. You're embarrassing yourself."

The words hit me like a slap. Embarrassing myself. As if I'm the one who should be ashamed. As if I'm the one who did something wrong.

"You know what?" I say, my voice is steadier now. "You're right. I should go. But not because I'm embarrassed. Because I refuse to waste another second of my life on either of you."

I yank open the door.

"Diana." Sebastian again. Still not moving. Still not getting up. "Don't do anything stupid."

I pause. I don't turn around. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just... don't."

I don't answer. I step into the hallway and pull the door shut behind me. The click of the latch sounds like a gunshot in the silence.

I walk through the apartment, my heels clicking against the marble floor. I grab my coat from the hook by the door. I check my bag-phone, keys, wallet. Everything I came with. Everything I need to leave.

The living room is exactly as I left it. His jacket on the sofa. His laptop on the coffee table. The glass of whiskey, now watered down from the melted ice. I set the bottle of wine on the counter. The expensive kind he pretends not to care about. Let him drink it. Let him think of me every time he takes a sip.

I reach for the front door and pause. My reflection stares back at me from the dark window-a woman with tear-streaked cheeks and wild eyes and a heart that's been shattered into a million pieces.

This is the moment, I think. This is where you decide who you're going to be.

I could go back. I could fight. I could scream and cry and demand the answers I deserve. But what would that change? He's already made his choice. She's already won. Staying would only give them another chance to hurt me.

So I do the only thing I can do.

I leave.

The hallway is empty. The elevator is empty. The lobby is empty, save for the doorman, who looks at me with wide, pitying eyes. I don't acknowledge him. I don't acknowledge anyone. I just keep walking, my head high, my steps steady, my heart breaking with every beat.

The night air hits me like a wave. Cold. Sharp. Real. I stand on the sidewalk, clutching my bag to my chest, and I let myself feel it. The betrayal. The humiliation. The grief.

But underneath all of that, something else is stirring. Something darker. Something that doesn't want to cry or beg or plead. Something that wants to fight.

I pull out my phone. My fingers are trembling, but I manage to open my contacts. I scroll past Sebastian's name-I'll delete it later-and I stop on someone else. Someone who could change everything.

Not tonight. Not yet. But soon.

I shove my phone back into my bag and start walking. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know what I'll do when I get there. All I know is that I'm done being the woman they thought I was.

I'm done begging.

I'm done crying.

I'm done letting them win.

They will never see me break again.

And as I disappear into the New York night, I make a silent promise to myself-a promise that will become the foundation of everything that comes next.

Neither Sebastian nor Sofia will ever see me beg for their love again.

And when I'm done with them, they'll wish they never crossed me.