THE BILLIONAIRE'S CINDERELLA WIFE

Episode 3

EPISODE 3

When you are well aware of the fact that you are the least attractive person walking on the streets, you try your best to get to where you are headed quickly because the less people you come across the better. Pamela’s house is quite a distance from my place if money wasn’t an issue then I would have taken the bus but since I work with a budget I had to rely on my legs to take me there. I forcefully pound on the ground with my two feet until I finally get to Pam’s house, I stand by the door for a moment before ringing the bell because I want to take some time to steady myself. I can feel sweat around the sides of my forehead, I run my hand inside my string bag and pull out tissue to wipe myself.

“Hi...ohm....crap...I’m so sorry I have totally forgotten your name,” Pamela says after letting me in. She had an excited smile on her face and it quickly faded away after she failed to remember my name. Of course I didn’t expect her to remember it, why should she when I’m nobody worth remembering? “Oh that’s okay...don’t worry about it,” I say before my eyes are taken by how beautiful her home is. My eyes roam around, admiring almost everything that they come across be it the flooring, the ceiling and the clean painted walls. This house has just confirmed to me that my family is really, really poor and our home is not fit to be called a house but a dump. How unfair life is, I bet this young girl right here doesn’t even know how lucky she is to be living in such a beautiful place.

“Are you okay?” Pamela asks and I turn my attention back to her. “Yes...I....I was just admiring how beautiful your house is,” I comment. “Are you kidding me?” She chuckles softly. “If only you knew what I would give to get my parents to move from this boring house, I mean...it doesn’t even have a swimming pool...can you believe it? All my friends live in houses with pools and I’m the only one who doesn’t have a pool so that means I can’t throw a pool party, imagine.” She whines, the expression on her face showing how unhappy she is about the matter.

I’m not interested in telling her how beautiful her home is and that she should bear in mind that there are people who live in really bad houses and would kill to be in her shoes, why should I tell her all that? She won’t listen or care.

“So...are you going to tell me your name?” Pam eyes me expectantly. “Just call me Cinderella,” I simper.

She looks at me like she is about to explode with laughter, “did I say anything funny?” “Yeah...that can’t be your real name; I have never heard of anyone named Cinderella except for the girl in the Cinderella story,”

“I was just messing with you. My name is Rebecca...you can call me Becky or Becca,”

“Alright...I will make sure not to forget that,”

“So...are you home alone or your parents are upstairs?”

“My parents are never at home until dinner time...let me show you to the kitchen so we can get started. I bought everything that was on the list you sent to me,” she squeals with delight and I begin to wonder why she is so excited about learning to bake. It’s not like she will make money out of it, she is obviously getting everything she wishes for from her parents.

I find myself wondering the kind of person I would have been had I been born to rich parents? Would I have been a humble and down to earth girl or a snobbish, whiney, ungrateful and self conceited b***h?

It was a couple of days back when I got a call from Pamela asking me to give her baking lessons, she said she got my number from the bakery store where my cupcakes are sold. Her call was unexpected but it lifted up my spirits especially after she gave me her address and I realised she lived at the rich people’s neighbourhood. I started dreaming about how many of her friends and relatives she could pass my number to and I would get large amounts of money for tips and just maybe I could make enough money to improve my family’s life but then again life isn’t that simple or easy.

“Where are the aprons?” I ask after darting my eyes around the grand kitchen and not seeing them. “Oh...yes...we need aprons, I so do not want to get my sweater stained,” she smoothens it out before continuing, “Do you like it? I bought it on sale it was going for three hundred bucks, can you believe it,”

Three hundred bucks and yet she says it was on sale! I’m so going to hate every minute I will spend next to this girl, it seems like everything that is coming out of her mouth is filling me up with envy and it’s kind of breaking my heart. I can’t begin to imagine how many things I would have been able to fix at home with the three hundred bucks that she wasted on a sweater that does not even look nice or perhaps I’m the one who doesn’t know what nice looks like?

If only she could stop talking until I’m out the door, “I asked you a question?” she arches her brows. “You did? What was the question?” I ask after she hands me the apron and I begin tying its strings around my back. “I asked if you like my sweater.”

Why does she care if I like it or not? Does my opinion really matter or it’s some kind of a trick question?

“Yeah I like it, I think it’s cute,” I force a smile on.

“Cute! Really?” She stares at me with a disappointed expression on her face and it makes me wonder what she expected me to say.

“I think it’s more than cute, it’s sexy,” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“O...kay...sexy it is...now can you please put on your apron so we can start?” I try my best not to scowl at her. Does she think I have all day to spend listening to her? It probably hasn’t occurred to her that I have other things to do after I’m done here.

“Okay...okay...you don’t have to be so serious,” she mutters.

As we begin the baking tutorial, Pamela surprises me by paying attention and doing exactly what I tell her to, she really seems dedicated to learning how to bake. I had worried I would have to keep repeating myself and end up pinching her to get her to be serious. “Do you mind me asking why you are so interested in learning how to bake?” I curiously ask.

I watch as her cheeks begin to turn rosy red and her eyelids start fluttering, “there is a boy I’m trying to impress,” she shares. “Oh,” I give her an intrigued smile. Not that I know anything about trying to impress a boy. “The thing is, he is the hottest guy at school and he happens to be in my science class but...” her face begins to wither. “But what?”

“He seems to think that I’m this spoilt brat that doesn’t know how to do anything; he probably thinks I don’t even know how to tie my own shoe laces,”

I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that, I too think she is a spoilt brat but I wouldn’t dare to tell her that, I guess I have to be thankful to whoever this boy is because he is the reason I am going to leave this house with good money in my hands.

“So let me guess...you want to bake for him and prove to him that you actually do know how to do something?”

“Exactly but not just that, when you want to impress a boy it’s the gifts with a personal touch that do it, something handmade comes with a secret message that says I was thinking of you and I put my time, efforts and my heart in making the gift,” she dreamily says.

I guide Pamela step by step until the cupcakes are ready to go into the oven. “Would you like something to eat while we wait for the cupcakes to be ready?” She asks. “Thank you but I’m okay,” I turn down her offer.

“Come on, I’m sure forgetting about your diet for just this once, will do you more good than bad,” she chuckles.

“I’m sorry but I don’t understand what you are trying to say,” I peer at her with a puzzled expression.

“I’m saying you have lost too much weight already, you need to stop dieting, unless you are trying to become skin and bones,” she chortles as she grabs herself something to eat from the fridge and throws it inside the microwave.

Just when I was beginning to enjoy speaking to her she goes on to say something that makes me prefer her mouth zipped quiet, she probably has no idea how rude she sounds. How can she assume that I’m dieting just because I don’t feel like eating at the moment? Who am I kidding, that’s not the reason she assumed I’m dieting, it is obviously my thin body. Before I can think of what to say to her, the tantalizing aroma from the microwave hits me hard, it smells so good like nothing I have ever sniffed before. Now I’m regretting refusing to eat with her, how foolish of me to not take the chance to get a taste of the luxurious food that wealthy people are accustomed to.

I can’t help swallowing as I watch Pam’s face lighten up with delight as she munches on her snack, “hmm my goodness...I’m not really one to comment on how tasty a dish is but damn this right here is really good. Are you sure you don’t want some?” She gazes at me expectantly.

“I said I’m fine,” I respond after clearing my throat, I dart my eyes around, looking for something to do to keep me from watching Pamela enjoy her food. “Let me put the tray of eggs back in the fridge,” I say after realizing that we didn’t clear up the kitchen table after placing the cupcakes in the oven.

As soon as I hold the tray of eggs in my hands, I’m startled when a half naked man walks into the room and my eyes take in what they have only seen on television. A bare chest with defined well toned muscles, strong hands and an entire masculine body, my jaw drops open and my eyes fixate on the young man who just walked in.