To Remarry The Billionaire

One

A Year Later

Camila’s POV

A headache gripped my left eye and behind my head, and I wanted to scream. I haven’t been getting much sleep because my husband’s mistress was here again for the weekend, and they had been going at it for an hour.

The woman was a screamer, if you know what I mean, or maybe she was just doing that on purpose to make the wife who was getting nothing from her husband jealous. Well, I was jealous for the most part, I just knew how to hide it very well.

Rubbing my head, I stood up from the bed, my throat in a tight, painful frenzy.

We’ve been married for a year, and in those long twelve months, Zion had never really spoken to me or looked at me. He lived his life, and I lived mine. By living mine, I mean being in the house all day long doing nothing but staring at the beautiful interior of his massive house, the one his father had given us as our wedding gift. Yeah, I know, they’re that rich.

Zion left the house every morning to work, even though I knew his father’s company probably didn’t give him much to do, and came home every night, but it was as if he was never here. He doesn’t let me work, though, because he didn’t want me embarrassing the family, his words.

My first impression of Zion was that he was nice, but boy was I wrong. He was the opposite, condescending and cold to me, like I had been the one to trap him in a marriage, like I enjoyed being here any more than he did. It was why he didn’t care much about what his actions did to me.

Who the heck brings women to their matrimonial homes? In this case, it was a particular woman, the one he claimed to love. Well, I had nothing against that, not that I could do anything about their love anyway, so I just ignored them both when they were at it.

Tonight, though, for some reason, I couldn’t sleep and their rendezvous affair was causing me physical pain.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t just for some reason. It was because I had finally thought that my husband was seeing me differently when he came home last weekend without his hand candy, ate the dinner I prepared, and suggested we watched a movie together.

It was a first in our shitty marriage, and I let the happiness of finally being noticed get to my head a little too much. But you can’t blame me! I mean, I had caught this man staring at me in the middle of the movie, and he had commented on how beautiful I looked, and for the first time, he had kissed me. After that, one thing led to the other, and he had made sweet love to me, my first time actually.

The morning after, I had woken up with the biggest smile on my face even though the sun was shining on my face, something I wasn’t really keen about, and then I had opened my eyes to find him gone with a note he had left, telling me that the beautiful night we spent together was a mistake, and that he would love to forget it.

I had cried my eyes out after that, but then I thought maybe it would be better if we talked about it. I made sure to have my bath, dressed up in a nice dress, and cooked for him, but when he came back, he had acted like I was invisible. I tried talking to him, but all he said was, “I’m sure you got my note, so we have nothing to talk about,” and he had left me standing there. Now, he was at it with the love of his life, again.

Getting into my robe, I slipped into my slippers, grabbed my k****e, and walked out of my room to go downstairs to the kitchen. I tiptoed there actually, careful not to wake Alice up. Alice was the live-in housekeeper that made things a little bit easier for me, making sure I was not as bored as I would be if I were alone with Zion in this house.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to hear them going at it anymore. I can just sit here and read a book or something on my k****e device while I wait. Give or take, they should be done in about an hour or so. I would go back to bed then and maybe find some sleep. I was already engrossed in reading the new book I started yesterday when I heard footsteps coming downstairs.

Frowning, I wondered who it was, and decided that it was Alice. I mean, Zion and his lover were probably still going at it, so she was the best bet. She was probably thirsty, so she needed to grab a bottle of water.

Shrugging, I focused back on my book, but a voice calling out my name got me to square my shoulders and my insides twisting in a tight knot.

It was Zion.

Turning slowly to face him, I avoided looking at his eyes because they were my undoing. He stood there at the doorway with his arms folded across his chest, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, his upper body bare. It wasn’t until a couple of months into our marriage that I knew he had tattoos lining up his left arms, stopping just a little bit down his elbow.

Those tattoos made him look more fearful, like he was some mafia lord or something. Trying to make my voice as less croaky as I could, I answered him. “What do you need?”

He looked at me for a long while, and then he shook his head and threw it back to laugh. What was suddenly so funny he was laughing like that? I asked myself, wondering with a small frown on my face. “What do you think I would possibly need from you, Camila?” He asked me when he was done laughing, and I thought about it.

Well, he was right. There was nothing at all he could probably want or need from me. “Sorry, you called my name, so I thought you needed something.”

“Honey, what’s going on?” We both heard Dorothy’s voice as she walked into the kitchen, looking from Zion to me. “What are you talking to her about?” She asked, kissing his chest.

“Nothing for you to worry yourself about, Dory.” He said, and I almost rolled my eyes at the nickname. “But I worry. Why’s she here?” Dorothy asked, and before I could stop myself, I said. “I’m here because this is my house, my kitchen. If there’s someone who needs to answer that question of yours, shouldn’t it be you?”

Dorothy walked away from Zion towards me, a surprised look on her face. It was as if she didn’t believe I could talk, and now that I did, it was shocking to her. “Are you talking to me?” She asked, and I looked at Zion, something unexpected coming from my mouth again. “I think you should restrain your dog, Zion, before she crosses her lane.” I said.

Maybe I had imagined it, but for a second, I could have sworn I saw a look of amusement in his eyes, like he was enjoying this show I was suddenly putting up.

“What? You dared call me a dog? Are you crazy?” She asked, looking to Zion for help. Dorothy was a blonde hair type of girl with a slim body like a model. I guess it was what Zion liked about her, the fact that she was beautiful and elegant, and wouldn’t ‘embarrass’ him out there. She waggled her manicured finger at me and said. “You’re becoming a thorn in my side.”

I shook my head and started to laugh, not sure I wasn’t crazy, but I thought I loved this kind of crazy, showing this intruder and home wrecker that I wasn’t made of glass. I had more steel to me than I show the world, because I just believed it was better to live gently than in violence.

“You must think I’m stupid, letting your ass come here to sleep with my husband without saying a word about it, but I’m not. I just don’t want to be a jerk to you like you’ve been to me. Don’t test me or mistake my silence for fear, or I’ll make you feel the brunt of your own actions.”

This wasn’t me, just so you know. I was saying all these things, but I’m sure it’s not me saying them.

Zion still stood where he was when he came in, by the door with his arms folded, staring at me like I might have grown two heads.

Maybe I have, who knew.

Dorothy hesitated for a moment, as if courteous of what she was about to say, but then, she must have thought she didn’t care, because what she said next was so horrible. “I see why Zion couldn’t see himself liking you; you’re just an excuse for a woman with no class. You must think you’re something, talking to me like that, when you’re really nothing. I see why he wants to divorce you. I hope the process is short, and you get out of our lives.” She said, and with that, she walked out.

What?

What divorce?

I sat there staring at Zion with my throat closing up and tears at the brim of my eyes. Wait, why the hell should I cry when I did nothing wrong? In all the months we’ve been married, I had done nothing but be understanding, caring, and good to him.

If he wanted to divorce me, then so be it. It was his loss, not mine.

Standing up from the stool I sat on, I walked to him and stared at him up close, my heart beating so much for how close I was and how handsome he was looking even though he was an ass. “I will be expecting the papers, then. I hope you’re happy with your fake-ass plastic girlfriend.”

I walked out, and the first thing that hit me was that my stepmother and sister would laugh their eyes out at me; they would be happy I had once again, failed at something. I had failed at being a good daughter; that was according to them, and now, I had failed at my marriage.

Even before I got to my room, the tears I kept back were already falling.