Forced To Marry My Husband, I Ended Up In Bed With His Cousin

CHAPTER4

STACY

“Madam, please, your husband is busy. He will…”

I paid no need to the secretary who was running after me as I pushed my way through desks and staff, heading for his door.

Once I reached the door that read ‘Office Of The CEO’, I turned the knob and opened.

The secretary disappeared from the background, obviously not wanting to be part of the drama or risk losing her job.

There was a woman sitting on his lap, they were kissing.

They immediately broke off when they saw me.

William’s expression changed, pleasant to surprised to hard, “what are you doing here?”

The woman just stared.

I was too broken to even be surprised. “William Carter, I hate you!” I screamed, tears running down my face as I rushed forward to shove everything off his desk. “You’re here, with another woman, while your daughter lays dead in the hospital. You have succeeded, William!”

“Go home.” He ordered in a chilling, flat tone that he usually used with me.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?!” I screamed, “our daughter is dead and it’s all your f-fault!” I jabbed a finger accusingly in his face. “Your fault! You have the money but you prefer to spend it on her?!” I gestured to the lady looking impeccable in a simple dress and slipper heel.

A set of simple gold jewelry sitting pretty on her neck and both her ears. He had probably bought those.

“You’re embarrassing me.” He came forward and grabbed me by my arm, pulling me towards the door.

“Leave me alone, you evil monster!” I fought against his pinching hold of my arm, scratching every and anywhere I could find.

I didn’t stop screaming and creating a scene until he called his security to come drag me away all the way from his office to the entrance where they abandoned me like trash.

People stared but I was too deep in my own misery and sorrow to care.

Like someone in a trance, I got up and ordered a cab back to the prison that was my home.

I trudged into the living room a while later, my mind too numb to process the death of my only daughter or catching William kissing another woman, unbothered he had a child who needed him to show up and he failed.

“How dare you, Stacy?” His mom, Veronica, charged at me the moment I entered the living room.

Eleanor standing beside her mother. She was my age. Twenty three. Finished from college but decided she was too pretty to work.

Because I wasn’t in the mood, I ignored them to go upstairs.

“My mom is talking to you, bitch.” Eleanor shoved at my shoulder.

I glared at her, anger fanning in the pit of my belly, “don’t touch me again.”

I made to continue my way upstairs when she raised a hand and landed a slap on my back, “how dare you walk away, again?!”

I swerved on my heel and landed one on her face. “I have tolerated you enough, Eleanor. Always hitting me because you think your mother and brother will defend you. But this ends now. The next time you raise a hand to me, I beat you to pulp.”

Veronica gasped, then tried to hit me, I caught her hand mid-air then flung it away. “Don’t you dare, Veronica. I know you hate me, but it doesn’t give you right to keep hitting me. Aren’t you guys tired?! Aren’t you tired of treating me like some trash dumped on your doorstep?!”

The tears came now as both mother and daughter stared at me like I had developed an extra head.

“I am the victim in everything! I was just a seventeen year old girl forced to become a property, a means of repaying debt I have no hand in. Yet you all treated me like it’s my fault I am here. Ever since Zaya, your grandchild got sick, you never cared. That little girl, up until she fell unconscious, would always ask about her father, her grandmother, her auntie and why they weren’t coming to see her and every single time she asked, I had to give an excuse.”

Thinking of Zaya made agony hit me like a brick. Tears almost made it impossible to speak coherently.

I had to draw in a deep breath.

“Now, she’s dead.” I revealed. The shock on their faces was swift, but it was gone in Veronica’s in a flash, “Zaya’s dead, yet you don’t care. You only care about the fact that I went to William’s office to create a scene. Yes, I did and I will do it over again. That bastard is cheating on me while his daughter lays dead in the hospital! Kissing another woman in his office!”

When I got no reaction from them, it told me all. I needed to know. They were aware. They always have been. I was the fool kept in the dark.

I was never really considered part of the Carter family. Never. The only person who had treated me like a human was their father and the man had died two months after I got married to their son.

“And you both know.” A bitter laugh erupted from me, “no,” I shook my head, “I can not keep doing this. I will not keep doing this. For me, I am done! I no longer want to be a part of this disgusting, selfish, wicked family — not like I was ever considered part of you.”

Veronica’s expression tightened, “you will not leave this house until the debt is repaid. You have fourteen years left.”

“Yes,” Eleanor supported, shaking off her shock from hearing news of Zaya’s death.

“How would you feel if your daughter is treated this way?” I asked Veronica, wiping tears.

“Not my fault you’re unlucky you ended up with a fatherly like yours.” Eleanor deadpanned, her eyes narrowing in mean slits. “My family will never use me as a means to an end like your wastrel of your father did. So, Stacy, before you think of leaving this house, prepare to have our lawyers at your neck and risk spending the rest of that fourteen years in jail.”

I stood motionless, knowing she was right. A contract has been signed, since I was a minor, my father had signed on my behalf.

I was angry, but helpless. The money was too much, even the money I made from last night’s job wasn’t enough.

“That’s my daughter.” Veronica praised as Eleanor smirked victoriously, and walked away from me.

Veronica shot me the death glares while I stood, feeling the weight of my father’s shortcomings press heavily within my chest, adding to the pain of losing my daughter and my husband’s infidelity.

Wiping at tears, I stumbled my way upstairs, entered my room and broke down in tears.

My hand trembled as I stared at the pink stick in my hand.

‘Pregnant’.

And I knew who was responsible.

It’s been three weeks since Zaya died. My marriage with William had gotten colder and more strained. I barely spoke to him anymore and became quietly defiant in little things. I hated him now. Wasn’t giving in to s*x.

Whatever feelings I had harbored for him was gone. I didn’t care if he cheated with ten women.

During this period, I mourned by daughter alone, while the rest of them pretended Zaya had never existed in this family.

The only time they got involved was during her burial and it was quick and practical, like he concluding a business deal rather than burying his five year old baby.

Now, I was staring at the third pregnancy stick in my hand, reading the same thing the other two in the bathroom sink had.

I placed a hand on my flat stomach, mixed emotions warring. I couldn’t carry another man’s child in this marriage, plus, William and his family would know what I’ve done and make life even more terrible for me.

I went into the bedroom, all three sticks in my possession, to dial Tricia.

“Hello, Tricia.”

“Hey. What’s up? How are you handling Zaya’s death?”

“I’m… I’m holding on. Tricia, I’m pregnant.”

“What? How? I thought you said you’re not letting the scumbag touch you again?”

“It’s not his.” I told her, trying to keep my voice steady, “it’s that stranger from the night.”

Silence. Then I heard a small shuffle, “f**k. You didn’t take morning-after pills?”

That was my f**k-up, I realized, “no. I forgot, Tricia. I was…I was hurrying to the hospital to get…” My voice broke.

“It’s okay, I understand. So what do you want to do now? If you want to get rid of it, I’ll support you. I know someone who can…”

“I’m keeping it.” My grip around the sticks tightened as if I was trying to convince myself I was doing the right thing.

“Oh. Yeah, I support you on that too. But you can’t give birth to that child in that place, Stacey. It’s too toxic. No child deserves to go through what Zaya went through.”

“I’m not going to pin it on William if that’s what you’re insinuating. And yes, you’re right. The environment is too toxic for any child to grow

up in.”

“So what’s your next course of plan?”

“I’m leaving.”