The Billionaire's Ex Wife

The day my marriage began to fall apart started like every other day. Quiet.ordinary.deceptively peaceful. The brightness of the sun shone through the curtains, forcing my sleepy head up. I stood up from the wide bed, the frame crafted out of pure gold. I turned my head to look at the side of the bed, and there was Nathaniel. He slept curled up, hugging his pillow throughout the night. I couldn't help but get jealous of the pillow. I looked at the time that stood firm on the wall, it was time to make his first meal of the day. I took one step at a time down the grand staircase curled upward like a serpent, its polished railings gleaming beneath the chandelier, and went to the kitchen. Nathaniel’s food had to be served hot, so I had done my calculations right. He would be up in thirty minutes, take his bath within ten minutes, and get dressed twenty minutes before he came down to eat. Breakfast was toasted bread and scrambled eggs. I opened the kitchen door and pressed the button to switch on the electric gas cooker. Five years of marriage had taught me exactly how he liked his eggs. I cracked some eggs in a glass bowl and whisked them until they turned smooth. The butter melted in the skillet with a faint sizzle before I poured the eggs. Stirring gently, I watched them form soft folds. The smell drifted through the kitchen, warm and comforting. My heart skipped as Nathaniel made his way down the stairs. It was silly, really. I still looked at him the way a girl looked at her first love. Unfortunately, he no longer looked at me the same way. His tailored pants fit his long legs perfectly, while his shirt stretched across his broad chest. The scent of his colon lingered around him as flies lingered around rotten fruit. “ Good morning." I greeted him, but he replied with a nod. “Breakfast is ready," I said. He walked past me, pushed out the chair, and sat down. “ I have an outing with my friends later in the day," I said. His eyes fixed on his tablet, his right hand held his toast. “Good”. His face was still as smooth as a baby. He still had that charm that gave me butterflies in my tummy. “Will you be home early?” I asked. “I'm busy”. He stood up, adjusted his collar, picked up his briefcase that sat on the table, and ordered his driver to start the car. Two words, that's all I got from him. He walked towards the walnut wood door with exotic veneers. “Next week is our anniversary, hope you haven't forgotten,” my voice rang out. He opened the door and walked out like he heard nothing. Lunch with friends was supposed to be a welcome distraction, but instead, mine became another reminder of what was wrong in my home. Designer bags rested on the back of chairs, Champagne was sitting on the long table in front of us. All I wanted was to forget the cold goodbye from Nathaniel and the strange feeling I had around him. I kept pouring myself a drink, like it was my last hope of redemption. “You look tired, Brittany. Late night?” Carolina asked. She always looked concerned whenever we met at any gathering. “ Or is Nathaniel keeping you busy?” I waved my hand as if telling them that wasn't true. But deep down, he truly was keeping me busy with sleepless nights, when I had to rethink why things turned out the way they did. “When should we start expecting a baby King from you and Nathaniel?” Veronica asked. She held on to her glass of wine already stained with her bold purple lipstick. She was the wife of the U.S. senator. Arrogant and proud. I hesitated at first, but I knew I could not afford to give anyone a chance to make me feel less of myself. “Hopefully soon," I replied to her with the same cold expression she started her conversation with. “Leave her alone, children aren't a race.” I was so glad Katherine supported me again. She always supported me. I had already grown exhausted from exchanging words with Veronica. “But didn't they say a woman without a child is barren?” She said, trying hard to get on my nerves. I tried hard to control my temper, my heart raced faster than a footballer running full-time on the pitch. I looked straight into Veronica’s eyes. “At least I wasn't forced to be with a man the same age as my father”. The atmosphere changed, and silence broke its way into our midst. Everyone was shocked , opened their mouths wide like they wanted to say something, but the words failed them. “How dare you open that filthy mouth to talk to me like that?” She acted like the frustrated loser that she was. “I agree with what you said, but I am still happy, you k like why? I am not a third wheel in my own marriage”. She said, folding her palms like someone who had planned to throw a punch. “What do you mean?" I asked. I got confused trying to understand what she meant by the third wheel but it hadn't clicked yet. I stood up, placed my two hands on the table, and moved forward a little to where Veronica was sitting. “I'm not sure of what you meant by those words, but I am sure you are not getting the same pleasure your concubine feeds you from the Senator. Who knows if your son doesn't carry the blood of the GODSON?" I turned and walked out on my friends. I wish I could see their faces, which I knew would be filled with astonishment. The drive back home felt lonely and quiet, the driver kept mute, and only talked when spoken to. I dragged myself up to the room. I had lost count of the alcohol I had consumed at the celebration with my friends and exceeded my limit. The wave of dizziness hit me, and the house began to spin right before my eyes. I entered the bedroom and expected to see Nathaniel sitting on the couch in the right corner of the room. That was one of his favorite spots to work around the house, but he wasn't there. I called his driver to ask him why he wasn’t home, but he was just as clueless as me. Nathaniel didn't come home. It happened again, just like most nights. My phone lit up with a message. My heart lifted for a brief, foolish second. Then it sank. An unknown number. I had a strange feeling as I opened the message, my fingers were reluctant above the screen. The moment I tapped it ope n, my breath caught in my throat. There was only one sentence. “Don’t expect your husband home so soon.”