I accidentally married a billionare

Chapter2

Claire’s Point of view

I left my marital home two weeks ago, and while I appreciate my colleagues letting me couch surf, it’s time for me to find my space.

The cab pulls up to an older apartment building. Red brick walls with small black balconies and windows with black bars.

Unattended children, divided into three groups, are running wild in the parking lot. Only a few rundown cars occupy the parking spaces. The cab bumps and shakes through the various potholes.

I know my budget is not huge for an apartment about 1500 dollars a month, but I wasn’t expecting this.

The cab parks in front of the building where my rental agent stands, next to a very large, dirty, overweight man. He pulls the duffel bag out of the trunk and hands it to me. That bag holds everything I own at the moment.

“Are you certain this is the correct address, miss?” The cab driver makes his worry known in his tone.

“Yes, thank you. That is my rental agent.”

I pay him, then exit the vehicle. The rental agent introduces me to a man, the landlord, whose odor hints at a lack of cleanliness.

After three flights of stairs down a dark hallway, we then make our way to the apartment. The hallway itself smells of must and vomit. A lady leans up against a wall, swaying back and forth to her own beat. The landlord scoffs at her as we pass by. As soon as the landlord opens the door, I am hit with the foul smell of mould and must. My agent doesn’t even enter the place. He closes the door and escorts me out of the building.

The landlord yells “This is the best you are gonna get for your budget.”

My heart sinks as I worry he is right. Fear envelops me. When I left, I was working on anger, sadness and the feeling of my entire world being ripped from my body. I am not saying cheating is right and that I should go home and forgive him, but it would be nice to have a bed to sleep on or a shower that I don’t have to share with others.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I feel my heart sink.

James

Miss me yet, Sugarcakes? I know it is not easy for you in the big, wicked world. Come home anytime you want.

In my head, I can hear the tone of his words seeping from his mouth. Condescending and childish. He is trying to elicit power over me. Every single word hardens my resolve. I respond.

Claire

Go f**k your mistress and leave me alone.

Another buzz from my phone, and this time I am surprised. It is Gigi.

Gigi

You homeless little b***h. Not even your cunt could keep your man. I mean seriously; it has been two years that I’ve been f*****g him. Did you really think it was you “prepping” me for an interview that got me the job at your company? I was sleeping with a vice president. How does that make you feel? Are you happy with your life? The only value you bring is when I tell my friends about how pathetic you are and we laugh and laugh.

I take a moment and block her number. Not out of anger, but of sadness. Gigi was one of my closest friends, and the only friend I had in the city. Now she can’t even speak to me with respect. It is a tough position to be in. I know Gigi thinks her world is changing and that she will swap lives with me, but I wonder if she knows what James likes. If she knows his dark secrets.

The things I know could tear down his perfect little world in a heartbeat, but if I told he wouldn’t learn his lesson, he wouldn’t understand. To him, it would be the logical answer. Instead, I will do nothing, ask him for nothing. That will really mess him up. He could never understand a world where someone doesn’t need him. In his little world, he is the center, and no one else matters.

I must have contorted my face as I read the messages, because my rental agent squeezes my arm.

“We will find you something better. Don’t worry, Claire, this is a process. I have one more place to show you today. I think it is a winner, although it might be small.” The letting agent says, attempting to control my irritation.

I meet him at the next apartment. The building, an older brick one, is well-maintained. There is an underground parking lot, not that I had a car.

“Now, Claire, they renovated this building three years ago. The apartments are small, but are modern.”

We walk up two flights of stairs through a simple, yet clean hallway. It has white walls with grey carpet and just enough light to see where you are going.

Apartment 231, it says on the door, with crisp black letters, contrasting the stark white door. The bright gold key slides into the lock and the door swings open.

This apartment was narrow. Maybe 11 feet wide, but quite long. In stepping through the front door, there is a large window facing me. A light turquoise couch with a shorter back sits in front of the window. To the right is a small kitchen. The counters are a tan laminate and the cupboards are a pine colour. It is a small kitchen, but enough for me.

Going down the hallway is a small bathroom with a shower. Next to that was what the listing called a den, but it was more of a large closet with a pull down single bed. The master bedroom is at the end of the hall. One of the major features of this place is that it comes fully furnished. The bed is a double size with a narrow 4 drawer dresser and a closet.

It is at this moment that I have to learn to forget the luxuries I had living with James. A perfect granite countertop, marble floors and an extra large king sized bed are no longer reasonable for me.

“When can I move in?” I ask.

The agent stares at me, a smile on his face. “You could move in today if you wanted.”

I nod, my head bouncing with excitement. He grabs his phone, makes a few calls, and a younger man wearing a polo shirt meets us.

He hands me a lease, simple but clear in its wording.

After reading through it three times to ensure I understand, I sign the document and he hands me a set of keys. One FOB to get into the building and another to enter the apartment.

I take a minute to fondle the keys. The cold metal presses against my hand. For the first time in my life, I have something of my own.

Both men leave, bidding me a goodbye. I lock the door behind them and skip down the hall to the bedroom with my bag. The second I enter, I jump onto the bed, giggling to myself. It may sound silly, but I was making snow angels in the bed, embracing all the space I have.

As I unpack my clothes, a large ball builds in my stomach. It is at this point that I realize I have so little. My clothes fill less than half the drawers. There are no hangers. I have no shampoo, no soap, no dishes or cutlery. I am starting over.

I hum and haw about what to do, and decide the best course of action is to go shopping. I order a taxi and make a list of everything I am going to need, right down to toilet paper. My savings still have a good chunk of money in it and I hope that this will be the last major purchase I have to make.

When I arrive home and unload the packages, I collapse onto the couch. Freedom is exhausting. So is living in the city without a car. Everywhere I go is a bus or taxi. My eyes flutter for a moment before I force myself to get up and unpack. I start with the kitchen. It was pretty amazing to me how you could buy a set of plates, cups, and bowls in a box set. When I lived with James, we would go to stores where the plates sat out, individual, and you could choose what set to buy or mix and match.

I guess I am entitled to some of that stuff, if we are being technical, but right now, even having a conversation with James sounds too emotionally exhausting to even bother with. It doesn’t take too long to unpack the kitchen and move to the bathroom. By the end of the day, I am moved in to my new apartment and am ready to live my new life.

It is odd, no matter how much I struggle or how difficult things may be for me, there is not one moment that goes by that I regret walking away from James. Not for a second.