The Stewardess He Rejected Is The Billionaires Wife

Five years after we broke up, I ran into Owen Sinclair thirty thousand feet in the air.
The girl in his arms had a purple tinge to her face and was struggling to breathe. His forehead was threaded with frantic veins as he yelled:
A doctor! Is there a doctor on board?
I pushed past the cluster of gawking passengers and knelt down, ignoring the shock in his eyes.
Im the purser. I have aviation medical emergency certification.
He immediately clamped down on my wrist, his gaze filled with panic and mistrust.
Maya Thorne! If you have a problem with me, take it up with me. Dont touch the child!
He lowered his voice, the words meant only for me. The accident five years agoSienna was cleared! Dont you dare go crazy on me.
I pulled my hand free, my fingers already expertly checking the girls pupils and pulse.
Mr. Sinclair, I said, meeting his trembling gaze head-on. Right now, I am the most qualified person on this entire plane to save her.
His Adams apple bobbed. He wanted to argue, but under my steady, icy stare, he finally backed away, defeated.
Oxygen mask, emergency injection, continuous monitoring
I executed every action with precision and speed.
It wasn't until the girl's face began to flush pink and her breathing stabilized that I let out a long breath. I stood, turning toward the rear galley.
1
The flight was diverted and grounded at a regional airport due to a massive thunderstorm.
All flights were canceled, and the terminal lobby was absolute chaos.
I stood on the curb, the wind wet and cold, dragging my suitcase. My rideshare app showed 99+ people ahead of me in the queue.
A black Maybach, splashing through puddles, slid silently to a stop in front of me.
The window lowered, revealing Owens face, a mixture of fatigue and complex emotions.
In the passenger seat, Sienna, clutching the newly awakened child, gave me a shy, timid greeting: Maya.
I acted as if I hadn't heard her, my eyes still glued to my phone screen.
The car door opened. Owen stepped out and strode directly toward me, roughly snatching my suitcase and tossing it into the trunk.
You wont get a cab in this weather. His voice carried the same non-negotiable arrogance as always. Dont be difficult. Get in.
I was half-pushed, half-shoved into the backseat.
The moment the door shut, it sealed out the wind and rain, but also trapped me in this suffocating space.
The piano music flowing from the speakersit was the song we used to play most often when we were falling in love. Now, every note felt like a sneer at my past.
Sienna watched me carefully through the rearview mirror.
Owen, thank goodness for Mayas help, she began, her voice soft and weak, before pivoting. But Im still a little shaken. What if what if Maya was still angry and used that moment to
Enough. Owen snapped the command coldly.
Sienna immediately fell silent, wounded, her eyes welling up with tears.
I gave a silent, cold laugh. The same old routine. Five years, and nothing had changed.
After snapping at Sienna, Owen turned his attention to me, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. His tone was a blend of high-horse condescension and a thinly veiled threat.
What happened is over. Sienna has paid for her mistakes.
Maya, you need to move on.
I finally looked up, meeting his stare, and let my cold laugh escape.
Where you two arent is always a better view.
Owen's breath hitched, and a flash of embarrassment crossed his handsome face.
His gaze involuntarily slid to my left ring finger. Seeing it bare, his tense jawline seemed to relax for a brief moment. In the depths of his eyes, I caught a fleeting, almost undetectable flicker of relief.
The car smoothly entered a glittering, affluent gated communitySinclair territory.
He had simply decided to bring me back to his family home without asking.
Get out. Your clothes are soaked. Go inside and change, and while youre at it, talk to my parents.
He stopped the car, his voice a command laced with an imperceptible thread of testing.
Outside, his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, were waiting under umbrellas, clearly having been alerted.
The moment they saw me climb out of the back seat, their faces contorted.
Mrs. Sinclair's shrill voice cut through the rain. Why did you bring this jinx back here!
The rain instantly soaked my uniform, chilling me to the bone.
I stood my ground, unmoving.
Owen frowned and stepped forward, trying to grab my wrist. Dont stand in the rain. Get inside and change!
I violently yanked my hand away, my eyes colder than the rainy night.
I have my own home, Mr. Sinclair. Save your concern.
With that, I didn't look back at him, or at the mansion where I had once dreamed of a future. I turned my back and walked with finality into the endless downpour.
Behind me, I heard Siennas feigned cry of worry and Owens frustrated, complex roar.
Maya Thorne!
The rain blurred my vision, washing over scars that had long since healed over.
I told myself this was the last time.
2
I climbed into a passing cab, dripping wet.
The blast of heat inside made me shiver, and the next moment, my stomach began to spasm violently.
A sudden cold sweat drenched my back.
I doubled over in the back seat, the pain forcing a familiar memory to the surface: the rainy night five years ago.
My mother lying in a pool of blood.
Sienna, the driver who hit her, panicked and blocked the ambulance, screaming about a staged accident. She single-handedly delayed life-saving intervention by the most crucial ten minutes.
And Owen? He had used every connection the Sinclair heir had to smother the scandal. It was ultimately classified as a simple traffic accident.
Afterward, they had the audacity to try to placate me with a check stained with my mothers blood.
My phone buzzed, dragging me back to the present.
The screen showed a new WeChat/text request: Owen Sinclair.
The accompanying message read: Youll catch a cold soaking wet. Im outside your building.
I glanced out the window. That glaring Maybach was indeed parked outside the dilapidated apartment complex I rented.
I ignored it, paid the driver, and headed straight for the 24-hour pharmacy on the corner.
Just as I got my stomach medicine, I turned and was instantly cornered.
Owens towering figure loomed over me. He was holding a thermal container filled with the hot rice porridge from the place I used to love.
His brow was deeply furrowed. He softened his tone, yet it was edged with impatient pity.
Maya, stop torturing yourself in this kind of slumming.
Just apologize, come back to me, and Ill set you up with an apartment thats a hundred times better than this.
I looked at him, then took the thermal container of hot porridge.
He thought I had finally given in.
Instead, I raised my arm and threw the porridge, container and all, with accurate aim into the nearby public trash bin.
Maya Thorne!
His rage was instant, the veins bulging. But he violently suppressed it, the fury finally dissolving into a weary sigh.
When are you going to stop being so sharp?
I pointed a finger at his chest, every word heavy with pain.
The day you shielded a killer, that was the end of us.
Owens eyes flickered wildly. He took a step forward, trying to grab my shoulders.
Sienna was a victim, too. She was just terrified
Slap!
The sharp sound of the strike echoed loudly in the quiet rain.
I had used every ounce of my strength. His face snapped to the side, a clear, red imprint of my fingers blooming on his cheek.
He froze, clearly never having expected me to resort to violence.
Just then, his phones video call ringtone cut through the air.
Siennas tear-streaked face appeared on the screen, crying that she was dizzy and felt unwell.
The anger and conflict in Owens eyes were instantly replaced by alarm.
He hastily hung up the phone, cast me one last looka complexity I couldn't readand then his voice was ice.
You are impossible.
Maya, dont ever ask me for help again.
Watching the taillights of the Maybach drive decisively away, I finally lost my strength. Clutching my aching stomach, I slowly crouched down on the wet sidewalk.
My phone gave a soft chime in my pocket, the screen lighting up with a new message.
From the contact labeled L: Off work yet? Im coming to get you.
A faint warmth, like a weak current, flowed back into my freezing heart.
3
I forced myself into the preparation room for my early morning flight, running on nothing but willpower.
To my surprise, Sienna was listed as a VIP passenger in first class.
Owen wasn't on board, but he had personally called my direct supervisor, Marcusa longtime sycophant of the Sinclairsand specifically instructed him to give special care to Ms. Sienna.
Throughout the flight, I maintained my professional smile, serving every passenger.
When I got to Sienna, she requested a glass of red wine.
I placed the glass steadily on her small tray table and turned to leave.
A sharp shriek erupted behind me.
I spun around. A large patch of red wine was splattered across the front of her white dress. The empty wine glass was rolling on the floor by her feet.
She covered her chest, looking up at me with fake, tearful innocence. Her voice was quiet, yet loud enough for the surrounding passengers to hear.
Maya I know youre still angry, but how could you do this to me?
All eyes snapped to me, filled with scrutiny and implicit blame.
Before I could even speak, Marcus rushed in from the back.
He didnt spare me a glance, addressing Sienna directly.
Ms. Sienna, please dont be upset. Ill handle this immediately!
He then turned to me, his face livid. Maya Thorne! Apologize to Ms. Sienna right now!
I met his rage with cold indifference. I need to see the cabin video.
See what video!
Marcus slammed my phone down on the counter. The company is ordering you to apologize, so apologize! Dont make this harder on yourself!
After the plane landed, I was immediately escorted to the airlines corporate office.
Sienna sat on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, shivering dramatically.
Marcus stood beside her, adding exaggerated details to his report.
The office door burst open. Owen strode in.
He went directly to Sienna, smoothly taking off his own suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, murmuring soft words of comfort.
Then he turned to me, his eyes blazing with a "how could you" disappointment.
Its just an apology, Maya. How hard can that be?
Dont throw your career away over something so petty.
I met his stare, asking one word at a time.
An apology? Is this to clear Siennas innocence yet again?
Owens gaze wavered. He avoided my eyes.
Furious, he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, his grip alarmingly tight, attempting to drag me forcefully in front of Sienna.
Listen to me. Dont make this any uglier.
The silent judgment from my colleagues felt like needles pricking my skin.
Sienna, nestled in Owens arms, flashed me a cold, triumphant smirk.
I struggled hard, the pressure on my wrist excruciating.
During the struggle, the silk scarf around my neck suddenly slipped.
A clear, possessive hickeya kiss markwas abruptly exposed to the air.
Owen froze. He stared intently at the blatant mark on my neck.
His grip on my wrist tightened so much it felt like he might crush the bone.
Who did that?
His voice was terrifyingly dark, as if all reason had snapped.
Maya, youre using cheap acts like this to get back at me? Youre making a mockery of yourself?
I endured the pain, a look of almost cruel triumph blossoming on my face.
Mr. Sinclair, Im married.
I tilted my neck back slightly, making the mark even more prominent.
Thats called foreplay.
He was completely enraged, pushing me hard against the cold wall. His eyes were bloodshot.
Beside him, Sienna looked nearly hysterical with jealousy.
4
Owen absolutely refused to believe I was married.
He confiscated my phone and IDs and forcibly brought me back to one of his penthouse apartments.
Owen Sinclair, are you done being crazy?
He tossed me onto the sofa, looking down at me.
Theres an aviation industry gala tonight. Youre coming with me.
I sneered. Why should I?
Because I can make sure you never work a day in this industry again!
He clamped his hand on my jaw, the madness in his eyes genuinely unnerving.
Im giving you a chance for redemption. Go to the gala and apologize to Sienna.
Ha. Just as I suspected.
That evening, he made me trail behind Sienna like a handmaid, fetching her drinks and carrying her clutch.
The surrounding socialites and wealthy patrons whispered and pointed at me.
Isnt that the former Ms. Thorne? Look how shes fallen.
I heard her mothers accident was a huge scandal. Now shes back to being a servant.
Sienna pretended to defend me. Dont say that, everyone. Maya is just being difficult.
The more she defended me, the louder the derisive laughter grew.
Owen stood a short distance away, sipping his drink, watching the spectacle with cold eyes.
He was waiting.
Waiting for me to break down, to cry and beg him, to discard all my dignity and submit to him once more.
But I didn't.
I was unnervingly calm, even pausing to pick up a glass of champagne and sip it slowly.
My eyes scanned the elegant crowd, searching without drawing attention.
Owen seemed pleased by my apparent surrender.
He walked over and handed me a key card, his voice heavy with patronizing grace.
Wait for me here tonight. We can start over.
I took the key card.
Under Owens confident, expectant gaze, I snapped the flimsy card cleanly in half.
Then, I casually dropped the pieces into a passing servers champagne glass.
Owen Sinclair,
My voice was quiet, but it clearly carried throughout the small corner. You disgust me.
The entire room went silent.
All eyes, hungry for drama, zeroed in on us.
Owens face instantly cycled from self-satisfaction to humiliation to blinding rage.
Maya Thorne, you are asking for it!
He raised his hand, ready to slap me across the face.
Sienna gasped dramatically, but her eyes were alight with gleeful excitement.
Just at that critical moment, the heavy, carved double doors of the ballroom burst open!
A swarm of men in black suits and earpieces filed in. Their presence was a powerful, immediate force that instantly silenced the entire room.

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