The Billionaire's Wife
- Genre: Romance
- Age: 18+
- Status: Ongoing
- Language: English
- Author: A.G
"Do you take Damon Contreras as your lawfully wedded husband?" The officiating minister asked for the second time before I heard myself mumble out a reply.
I had said yes to that man even though I wanted so bitterly to say no and be exempt from the inferno I was about to coerce myself into, but one tinge at my parent, and I had to swallow back the honest reply.
My heart still aches, remembering all the anguish I endured that day. Put up a cheerful face of a newly espoused even though I was crying myself a river on the inside. It was even more frustrating that he knew all about my inner upheaval, yet he chose to play the happy couple with me as well.
Even though it's been five years since we got married, the memories are still fresh in my mind, like it was just yesterday.
Tugging the thought to the back of my mind, I let out a whiff and inclined myself not to dwell on that dreadful moment any longer than necessary, even though it has become a constant nightmare even in my waking moment.
My entire existence as I know it has changed since the day he walked into it like an opaque silhouette from hell, soliciting my life as payment for my brother's stupid mistake. My parent conceding to his demand wasn't the annoying part, but getting shuffled by him to the altar was.
At first, I thought it was a feeble parody, and everyone was going to laugh about it, and that would be it, but no, it was the advent of my suffering, and ever since that day, I have only had to titter when I'm drunk or having a chat with my friends. Yet even in my intoxicated state, I still can't arrive at the house I share with that man without being cued of the nightmare that is my home.
My chest scorched bitterly with hot tears rippling down my cheeks as I sobbed into my cushion, compelling myself not to make a single sound. Sometimes, I wonder what my life would have been like if I was a daughter of an ordinary man. Maybe my life would have taken a diverse turn and a lot better.
"Mummy, mummy!" I heard my four-year-old daughter, Becca, dubbing at me and snapping me out of my woolgathering of thought.
Wiggling towards the door, I found her running towards me with her twin brother Ian closely in pursuit.
"Mummy, I want to eat cake, but Ian won't let me," Becca cried.
"That's not true. She wants to eat every single piece without sharing with me," Ian retorted before I could shriek at them to keep quiet.
I can't even stand the sight of my kids. Their voice makes me wince each time they speak to me and call me 'mummy.' Every glance at them constantly reminds me of how they were conceived.
Their oddity of a father had me bandaged to the damn bedpost on our wedding night while he forced himself on me repeatedly.
Maybe I'm wrong to react in this manner to my flesh and blood, but each time I gaze at them, I see them as the result of that night of the assault, and I can never bring myself to love and ratify them as mine.
I louse slightly when I feel Becca's hand pulling at the hem of my dress before I heaved her away from me.
"How many times have I told you two not to disturb me when I'm in my room, hmm?" I scolded, my voice a little loud than I intended.
"I'm sorry, mom, but I thought you might want to help out," Ian said dejectedly, and I almost rolled my eyes at him. He is just like his father. Blonde twirly hair with eyes as deep as the blue sea. He was the exact copy of his father. If not for the side dimples, I would have surmised that he was all him.
Becca at least has my features, but still, it hasn't made me see her any different.
"Well, you thought wrong. Where is your Nanny?"
"We don't want the Nanny to prepare our breakfast. My friend said her mother makes breakfast and even helps them get ready for school," Becca whined with tears.
"I'm sorry that friend of yours must have a very idle mother. I'm not, and as you can see, I have to get to work. Now go on, hurry and go find your nanny before you are late for school." I shoved them out the door before blasting the door shut from the inside.
My knees felt like jelly even as I crouched against the door frame before it gave out, and I went skidding to the floor-crumbling on my knees. I'm a horrible person, I know, but I can't help but feel this way towards my kids.
I can't even bear to look at them. I want to disappear. I sat on the frigid arduous floor with my arms wrapped around my knees, but it didn't stop me from squirming from all the crying. For five freaking years, I have been in this prison called marriage with absolutely no way out.
Damon won't grant me a divorce even if I ask for it. He'd instead saunter on hot coal than sign his emblem on any divorce papers.
"Beep beep," I heard my phone chime across the bed and made to retrieve it. Maybe it was from work. Dabbing my face with the back of my hands, I picked it up.
"Hello Elysia, we have a problem," I heard my best friend's voice shrieking at me over the phone.
"What is the problem, Julia?"
"Your husband stopped our project. We got a call from Seattle, and they canceled all partnerships. We've been pulled out of the show. All our designs and models were rejected. What is going on?"
My grip pulled taut on the phone as my brows crimped. I can't allow myself to be vulnerable. I won't let him walk over me this time, not when it has to do with the only thing that gives me purpose.