I accidentally married a billionare

Six months ago. Claire’s point of view. Monotony, the bane of my existence. Daily life feels repetitive, both at work and at home. Nothing is new, nothing ever changes. I’ve checked every box. University led to a good city job and a lovely suburban house. I know I shouldn’t complain. My husband, James and I have been lucky, but I can’t help but wonder if there is more than this routine out there? I’m roasting a chicken with fresh vegetables and potatoes. Another evening slaving away in the kitchen while James plays video games. He used to do sweet things, like kiss me on the cheek or squeeze my ass while I am cooking. The last few years, it feels like we are on autopilot with no spontaneity. The dishes pile up in the sink and as I go to make a start on them; I notice James’ phone beeps on the white counters. It is odd that he left his phone. It’s usually with him. A small flitter deep in the back of my mind wonders if it is intentional. I ignore the thought, pushing it far away. As I pick it up to deliver it to him, a message beeps on it from Gigi. GIGI If you do not tell Claire, I will. Tonight, James. Something deep in my gut twinged. A feeling I couldn’t ignore. He left his phone here so I would see this message. Coward. Can’t even face me. If I believe in one thing in this life, it’s my gut instinct. It has never steered me wrong. When I listen to it. I pick up his phone and enter the password. He keeps it as his birthday. My mind clouds with apprehension and indecision. What am I doing searching through my husband’s private property? I am not that type of woman. This is what insecure, jealous wives do. Instead, I feel a deep rumble low in my throat, the feeling of betrayal. I returned the phone to the counter, pulling my hand in. My fingers work slowly, like a sloth, as I reach out for it again. Trusting my gut instinct is hard, especially when seeing Gigi’s messages. Pages blur as my fingers scroll. I don’t read the messages, not all of them. They seem to go on forever. Communication spanning years. My heart sinks as my stomach floats to my throat. Two years of flirty, lewd messages. Pictures, parts of Gigi I never wished to see. I sensed our relationship problems, yet his infidelity was unpredictable. Aggressive screaming and threatening, I would have expected, but not cheating. At that very moment, I wasn’t sure what made my skin crawl more. My husband of six years cheating on me or that the messages started on Gigi’s 18th birthday. I was the one that forced him to attend her party. A wave of nausea floods through me. I set the phone on the counter. With a methodical rhythm, I turn the oven off and head upstairs. James is still sitting in front of his video game, none the wiser. He won’t notice me leaving. The moment I step into our bedroom, my whole body shakes as a flood of tears leaves my eyes. I cover my mouth, silencing my sobs. Tears would give me away, and all I need is ten minutes to gather my clothes. Despite all the memories shared in this room, he betrayed me by getting involved with someone I saw as a younger sister. I don’t blame Gigi. She was a young woman, manipulated by the King of control. A few deep breaths and I can push back the sobs. My footsteps clank with intention as I listen for James’ response to each one. Disappointment fills me more and more. He doesn’t notice. All I want to do is collapse on the floor and cry. A scream builds in my throat as I hold it in. I thought for just a minute that James might notice my absence. He might care. Foolish of me to think. I steel myself, knowing the truth. I am a convience. You know what? I don’t need him. I am a strong, independent woman with a decent job, my own friends, and…no social life and no freedom. This could be my chance. The opportunity that life has thrown at me in the cruellest of ways might just have a silver lining. It might be time to leave him, finally, leave him. People scrutinize my relationship with James because we are different. Some may say opposites attract, but for us I think it is comfortability. We have been together since we were teenagers. I was 14, and he was 16. Kids, growing up together, learning and living together. He took me in when my father died, letting me live in his one-bedroom apartment. The next thing I knew, we were dating. What I didn’t know as a child was that he was manipulative and aggressive. He would scream at me and throw things. Whenever I left to spend time with my friends, he would have me followed, or insist on coming along. There was never a question that I would have a lesser job than him. I needed to rely on him for everything. I always thought this was his emotional reaction to his parents abandoning him. Little did I know at the time that he had real psychological problems with control. Neither one of us had a stable parental relationship, so I stayed, assuming that my parents divorced because they didn’t want to work on their relationship. Over the years, we learned how to be around each other without being involved with each other. He lives his life and I live mine. Separate lives, separate hobbies, even separate bank accounts. The only thing we share is the company we work for. As I pack a duffle bag with whatever I can fit, I try to decide who to text. In any other situation, I would text Gigi. It is at this moment, my phone shaking in my hand, that I realize I am not just grieving the loss of my husband, but of one of my dear friends. My phone shakes in my hand as I text my best friend, Ana. Not that she can do anything being 300 kilometers away. All I can muster through my tremors are three words. James, Gigi, together. I don’t wait around for a response. Ana will be busy cooking dinner for her children. With my bag packed, it was time to leave. All my memories waste away as the sheer rawness of my sadness turns into a burning of anger. I steady my hands, ready for the upcoming fight. As I make my way downstairs, the step squeaks, the noise ringing through the cloud of thoughts in my mind. James whips his head around, his eyes boring into my soul. No sadness, no love, only anger. “Where the f**k do you think you are going?” He said, a low growl in his voice. While he put down his controller, I position myself near the door. My back is to the wall. “Why do you care? You have Gigi.” Instead of surprise, a look of derision crosses his face. “Took you long enough to figure that out.” He has no consideration for my emotions, not an ounce of remorse for breaking my heart. A pressure builds in my chest as I try to leave, run from this place. My home. He positions himself to block me, his hands on the wall on either side of me. “She was a f*****g kid when you started with her. You are a pathetic thirty-year-old man.” I say. I am not phased by his show of power. His breath slows as a flicker crosses his eyes. If another woman stood in front of him now, he might have hit or slapped her, but not me. He won’t hit me. Not because he loves me or anything that trivial. It’s because I have two black belts and I am an expert in Muay Thai kickboxing. He doesn’t want to explain to his colleagues at work that his soon-to-be ex wife kicked the living s**t out of him. I step under his arms, heading to the door. While touching the knob, he yells, “What’s your plan for making money?” A small smirk dons my face as I feel the heaviness leave my chest and replace with a ball in my throat. My eyes fill with tears, which I fight back. “After almost 15 years together and you still think I am stupid? I have savings, some that you can’t touch. You forget, James, I know you better than anyone else in this world.” He snarls behind me, not to be beat. “What does that mean?” I lean in, so he can feel the seriousness in my eyes. “Hurt her, and it’ll be your last act.” I say. At this very moment, a tightness develops in my upper throat, disappointment at Gigi. No matter what she did or how she betrayed me, I won’t let James hurt her. She deserves better. I deserve better. He steps to me, attempting to be intimidating, but backs down. “You make like 50 000 dollars a year. How much can you possibly be hiding from me?” A moment of my strength wains as I realize he is right. I don’t have a lot of money saved up, but it is enough. Not one to be beat, I gather my resolve and turn the doorknob, knowing full well one simple flick of my wrist will change my life forever.