My husbands secrets and lies

As I stood parked in front of the middle school, waiting for my two daughters, I looked in the rear-view mirror and watched my three-year-old, who had fallen asleep in her car seat after a busy morning at pre-school. I can’t help but wonder if I should have had a third child. After my husband’s grandmother passed away four years ago, he changed completely, and I thought it would be a good distraction for him. I also thought it would save our marriage and we could return to happier times, but it did not work out that way. He does spend time with her, but has, since then, ignored our other two daughters. He barely acknowledges them anymore. He used to have such a strong bond with them. But how can I regret having her? She is such a bundle of joy and so innocent. How can I ever blame her for her father’s mistakes and short comings? My middle child, Alice, is approaching the car and I can see on her face that something has happened again. “Hi sweetie, everything all right?” I asked as she got into the car. She doesn’t look up when she answers: “Yes mom.” “Honey, look at me. You know you can tell me anything. Did Morgan bully you again?” I asked. I have had it with this f*****g child picking on her every day at school! Alice looked up, tears dwelling in her eyes. She didn’t have to say anything, I knew that it was that little b***h again. My daughter is only eight years old and is being bullied constantly by this nine-year-old. Morgan was kept back one year and ended up in her class. I can feel the anger rising in me. I got out of the car, slammed the door and walked to the school office. “I want to see the principal immediately!” I said as I entered the office. His secretary is at her desk and jumps slightly when I enter and suddenly raised my voice. “Sorry mam, he is not in at the moment. Would you like to make an appointment for tomorrow perhaps?” She says, friendly and polite. She can sense that I am upset, and she probably knows why. “Yes please. I would also like you to contact Morgan’s mom and have her come in because this is in regards to her daughter continuing to bully my daughter, Alice. I am sick of this s**t and that no-one is doing anything to stop bullying at this school. I want her removed from Alice’s classroom or expelled if this continues!” I said in a strict tone. “I’m so sorry to hear that this is still continuing on. I will tell the principal to call her mom and set up an appointment so that both parents can meet. I will send you the time as soon as the principal speaks to Morgan’s mom. We will address the issue as soon as he returns.” She says calmly while trying to give me some reinsurance. “Thank you, I will also bring my husband to the meeting,” I replied, and then walked out. My husband is extremely rich, his net worth being in the billions. He donates to this private school and the faculty always treats us with a lot of respect, knowing that he is a generous donor to the school. Morgan’s parents have recently divorced. Rumours of her mother cheating had been going around the school as being the reason for the divorce and had caused Morgan to lash out. She picked out and started bullying my child for some reason. I actually do feel sorry for her, but her mother should be dealing with her own child. My child doesn’t want to go to school anyone, her grades have fallen and she is constantly upset and stressed out. This over one child teasing her at school and pushing her around. I’ve made several pleas for the school to get involved, to call her mother and sort this out with them, but it seems these actions have only made things worse and now it is time for me to personally intervene and put an end to this. When I returned to the car, Megan, my eldest daughter, now ten years old, had already joined her sister and was comforting her while little Becky was still sleeping. “Don’t cry honey, I will sort this out once and for all and Morgan will no longer be allowed to bully you, I promise you that.” I told my daughter. She stops crying and we drive home in complete silence as my mind drifts off. When we enter the large gates at our estate, I break the silence; “We are going to have some lunch while Becky has her nap and then we have to get to your music lessons and sports practices. So, get changed and meet me in the kitchen, the chef has already prepared you some lunch.” I tell my two girls while I pick up Becky and carry her to her room where she will continue sleeping for a while. When Phillip and I met in college, we moved into a three-bedroom house. When we had Megan, I decided to drop out of college to become a full-time mom. Phillip continued and finished his business degree and took a Managing position at one of their worldwide investment firms owned by his grandmother. His family was rich beyond belief and I did not have any reason to work. We had it all, a home and a family, wealth beyond our needs and we also had a lot of passion in our relationship and soon had a second child. Everything seemed to have changed four years ago. Phillip went to see his grandmother to discuss her will and she died, unexpectedly, while he was there. When he returned, he changed completely. He changed his looks and dressed differently, his personality changed, and he became distant from us. Maybe the riches got to his head, but he started to treat people with a great deal of disrespect and soon I found myself isolated from my friends and family. They all stopped talking to us and I lost touch over time, while the man that I married became more and more unrecognisable. He then moved us to a bigger city and bought a mansion to show off his billions. I find it unnecessary to live so luxuriously, like we are royalty. I grew up in a middle-class family and thought our home to be welcoming and cosy while still offering us individual space. The mansion feels like a hotel, cold and impersonal. We have several staff including a chef, trainers, tutors, nannies, cleaners and butlers. I don’t use them all the time because I like to do things myself, but they do come in handy when I need a break. I decided to text him to make sure he got home early so that I could tell him about the incident at school and he would know to show up when the meeting with the other child’s mother was arranged. {Please be home at six for dinner, we need to talk about something that happened at the school.} The text reads. I don’t bother waiting for a reply as he seldom takes the time to and I go about my routine. The music lessons, sports and homework, keep me busy the whole afternoon. The evening routine follows: The kids take a bath before we have dinner. Like usual, Phillip does not show up for dinner, so I send the kids to their room and tuck them in for the night. At nine he finally shows up. He walks in as though nothing is wrong. “I asked you to be home earlier?” I said as he walked through the door. “Please not this again. I’m tired and need a shower, please don’t start nagging me again”, he replies as he gives me an annoyed look. “Alice was bullied again today so I went to the principal to set up a meeting with Morgan’s mom. You need to be at the meeting tomorrow.” I continued, despite his bad mood. “This again? Leave the kids alone, they will sort it out among themselves. Why are you always interfering in things that don’t concern you?” He answers, as he is always trying to push my buttons and never takes my side. “Are you f*****g kidding me right now? Our daughter is crying every day, how the f**k does that not concern me?” I asked him angrily. “Well, why do you have to involve me? Can’t you sort this out on your own?” he asks, as though I am bothering him with my petty mom problems. I can feel the emotions boiling inside of me; “f**k you, Phillip. I will take care of it myself, just as I take care of everything by myself!” I lash out at him and then walked out of the room towards our bedroom. He follows me. “Why do you always have to make an issue of every little thing?” he says. “This is not a little thing. Your daughter is being bullied and you don’t give a s**t! You’re always working late or travelling, and you never spend any time with your children anymore!” I shouted at him. “Fine, I’ll go to the meeting.” He says to end the fight. He always does that. Instead of just agreeing to go and prioritising his family, he first gets under my skin and when I finally explode, he agrees, and the conversations stop. He goes into the bathroom and takes a shower. I got into bed and turned off the light. Suddenly, I feel his still damp body against mine as he presses himself against my back, his arm sliding over my waist and under my shirt and then moves up where he starts fondling my breast. He starts to kiss me hard on my neck, then after removing my top, he goes down to my breast and then moves to my lower body. He forces my legs to open and continues pleasuring me with his mouth and tongue. He then grabs my hands above my head while he thrusts his hard erection inside me. He first goes slowly but deep and then becomes more and more aggressive by moving his hand down to my neck and slightly choking me, increasing the pace as he f***s me harder and harder until he releases and comes. Our s****l encounters have changed and he has become more aggressive. This kind of s*x goes well with the anger and resentment I feel towards him. It’s a relief to not have to connect emotionally but to just f**k in the moment and get lost in my pleasures and fears as he dominates me physically and sexually. In the rare moments, I can let go and let someone else be in control. Afterwards, I watched him sleep. He is still the most attractive man I have ever seen. With his dark hair and eyes and his perfect physique, he still makes my knees weak. He still takes care of his body and looks, but the man in my bed is no longer the man that I met and fell in love with. He had become a stranger. How did we get here? There are no more date nights, game nights, family nights or intimacy. Instead, we get abstinence, endless fights and an occasional porn night. As he sleeps, his phone beeps, indicating that he has received a new message. I glanced over at it. I can’t read it because the phone is locked, but it does show the sender's name to be Letisha. Who the hell is Letisha and why would she message a married man at this time of night? Is he cheating on me with this woman? Why is he always working late and travelling on weekends? Why would he cheat though? We have been married for years, we have a family and a history, and our s*x life might be rough and impersonal, but we still have s*x. Maybe I’m just paranoid, or maybe it's my instincts telling me that something is wrong. Either way, I don’t know if my husband is still loyal and committed to our marriage. I cannot allow myself to be ignorant and ignore the warning signs in our relationship.