Bittersweet Billionaire

One

Tears streamed down my face involuntarily, the sting from the slap still fresh as I stared at my husband. The rage that was plastered on his face filled me with fear at the thought of what he would do next. We've had many arguments in the past, but ones like this only becoming more frequent the past year. I had dared question him on his late nights, and received an onslaught of verbal and physical abuse, making me want to take it all back.

"Please Sammual, I'm sorry, I should not have questioned you. Just don't wake Kaelan" I begged quietly. My husbands face darkened further. I felt myself shrink before the man.

"Maybe you should learn to shut your fat mouth then woman" he growled. I clenched my aching jaw tight, holding back more tears and lowering my eyes to make myself as small as possible. The anger that rolled off him was enough to keep me quiet and after a moment he walked away, not uttering another word. I stifled a sob as I stayed in place for a moment longer, not sure if he would return. But after a few minutes had passed I heard his study door slam shut. I let out the breath I had been holding, covering my mouth to stop the cry that wanted to crawl out my throat.

After composing myself I walked quietly to our five year old son's room, checking on his sleeping frame. I watched his chest rise and fall, a small smile tugging at my mouth as he mumbled in his sleep, the split on my lip stinging as I did.

Happy family, happy life. Happy family, happy life I repeated to myself. I desperately wanted to believe it. Willed it to be true. I had done everything possible to make Sammual happy, I thought that after giving him a son, presenting as the loving and caring wife, devoting everything I had to my husband he would eventually love me back.

The wedding had been an arrangement between my family and his. I am the oldest of my sister and I, so it was up to me to unite the families. I had been young and stupid, thinking there was such thing as true love and happy endings.

I wasn't as pretty, or as skinny as my younger sister. Compared to my plump frame and dark hair, she looked like an angel. Her golden hair, blue eyes and slim waist always demanded the attention of every male around her, including Sammual's.

He always commented on my weight, comparing it to Cheyanne's, demanding why couldn't I be as delicate, or as skinny, or as beautiful as her? Why had I inherited the ugly qualities from my family? it didn't help that after I had given birth to our son Kaelen I had developed post-natal depression, which only made the eating and weight gain worse.

Eventually, my appearance had become the joke of every party we had attended together, always making a point to compare me to any other woman in the room. I became accustomed to the insults, laughing them off as an inside joke. But deep down, they caused a new wound to open up every time.

I made my way to our bedroom. Most nights Sammual slept on the couch that was in his study, only forcing his way into our bed when he was drunk and wanting i*********e, but even that was a rarity now. Of course I never said no - happy family, happy life, remember?

"Happy family, happy life. Happy family, happy life" I whispered to myself, tears streaming down my face as I lay in bed, my cheek still stinging and ribs hurting from the newly forming bruises. I sobbed uncontrollably for what seemed like hours until I finally slipped into a deep sleep.

~*~

The next morning I sat at the counter, hands wrapped around my hot coffee as I watched the sun rise on the overly manicured garden that sat outside the large kitchen window. My mind was a whirlwind, thinking through every possibility on my next decision. I had woken before my husband and son, the early morning light turning the world a pale grey as I had made my way to Sammual's study. The smell of alcohol hit me in the face as I opened the door, his loud snores telling me he was passed out cold. I zoned in on his phone that was laying on the floor where it had slipped from his hand. I quietly picked it up, retreating to the desk where I unlocked it, my heart jumping at the little unlock chime. I almost snorted at the simple numbered password he used for everything.

He may be wealthy, but he wasn't the brightest.

I felt my heart stop, blood pounding in my ears as I opened the texts, the name on top accompanied by hearts and a ring. What I read turned my stomach, adrenaline pumping through my veins as my head swooned at the vulgar things he had said to this woman last night. I felt tears sting my eyes again as I read the multiple messages about how he hated me, that marrying me was the biggest mistake he had made. That he wished he had married her, my sister, instead. At least then he would have been proud of the wife at his side.

I locked the phone, unable to read any further, covering my mouth to stop myself from crying. I quickly replaced it to where I found it and left, quieter than a mouse, my heart swirling with heartache and betrayal. I had never considered initiating divorce. My parents had forbidden it as it meant I would lose any entitlements from the Welsh family, and my parents loved money more than they loved me.

But after the affair I just discovered, staying would mean I was allowing that behavior. There was a point I had to stand up for myself and say enough, even if it meant I was on my own. I heard Sammual stumble upstairs in his office, tracking his footsteps as he made his way to our bedroom, the sound of the door banging open and the grumble when he realized I was not in bed. A few moments passed before the shower started, allowing me to release my breath.

I needed to prepare. Leaving would mean forfeiting all money associated with my husbands family, as well as my own, no doubt they would disown me the moment I was no longer useful. I had a few family members a few cities over that I knew would take me in, they disliked my family as well as my husbands and knew the pain I endured daily.

If it had been up to my Grandma she would have kicked them all into next week. That woman had a mean streak you didn't want to cross. I listened as the water turned off, Sammual making his way around the bed before heading downstairs. I had made him lunch, and prepped his coffee, keeping him oblivious to my discovery was key if I wanted to leave alive.

Something in my gut told me he would take me to the grave before I divorced him, the media would swarm this news like flies to honey and not in a good way. I could hear he reporters now...

...The fourth wealthiest man of our country has had his wife divorce him, sources say she forfeits all monetary value upon signing documents, which begs the question; what goes on behind doors to give up that type of money and status?...

My stomach tightened, adrenaline spiking in my chest, muscles tensing as he entered the kitchen. His blank stare as he looked at me from across the counter was emotionless. I gathered myself and gave a small smile, indicating to the fridge

"I have made you lunch dear, and your coffee is ready" his eyes flicked from me, to the fridge, to the travel mug in front of me. His eyes narrowed briefly "I thought after my discourteous questions last night I should do my best to apologize where I can" his face changed then, softening as he realized I was submitting, even after the battery I received last night.

Was I really that much of a pushover? I clenched my jaw as the questioned crossed my mind.

"I have a big proposal tonight for the company, if I don't return before dinner don't wait up" he mumbled, grabbing his lunch and coffee before heading towards the door

"Have a great day dear" he didn't even turn to acknowledge me. My heart sank. I knew what that meant, now knowing what I did. He wasn't coming home, he was going to spend the night with her. My own sister. I ground my teeth in despair and anger. All these years trying to get him to love me in return had been for nothing. I had wasted time and effort on a man that wanted a perfect barbie doll. I suppressed a sob, blinking away my tears as I downed the remainder of my coffee.

It was time to prepare my departure.

~*~