Runaway With Mr. CEO’s Triplets

SHAWNA

When I thought of marriage, my eyes would light up as I imagined being in bed with my husband, giggling as he whispered sweet words of affection to me. I had looked forward to cooking with him and having food fights every time we did.

A sad smile settled on my face as I stared at the ceiling.

“How naive I was,” I muttered, my voice breaking.

If I had been told I'd be married at age twenty-two, I'd surely believe that but I wouldn't have believed my marriage would be loveless and the complete opposite of all that I had imagined.

With a sigh, I sat up in bed. It had been two years since I got married yet it was still the same so thinking about it and regretting it was pointless.

I gently got out of bed and sat back down because of how sore I was between my legs and a scowl settled on my face.

“Even if he doesn't like me, can't he at least be gentle,” I muttered, frustrated because I was almost always sore anytime I had sex with my husband.

As though he heard me, the door to the bathroom swung open and Damien, my husband, strutted out in loose pants and a shirt that had the two top buttons unbuttoned. One wouldn't know we'd just had sex with how clean and cold he looked.

Even without a smile on his face, he still looks handsome.

I mentally slapped myself at my thought before standing up, holding the duvet to my body so I wouldn't be bare before him. Despite him seeing me naked multiple times, I still wasn't comfortable around him.

“Wait,” I blocked his path as he walked towards the door, freezing when his hatred-filled eyes locked mine. Taking a deep breath, I smiled softly. “Please stay the night,” I started to say to him. “We've—”

Without waiting for me to complete my sentence, he shoved me aside and resumed his journey to the door, not sparing me a word as he left the room and slammed the door behind him.

“It's not like I wasn't expecting it,” I muttered to myself as I blinked back the tears in her eyes.

Dropping the duvet, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and a teardrop rolled down my face.

I wrapped my arms around my body as the tears rolled down in torrents. I felt like a low-level prostitute that didn't deserve pay. That was what I was, not a wife.

Looking to the edge of the bed, my eyes landed on the red heels and black dress I had prepared for that night on the floor. The outfit was carefully selected so he'd at least desire me but I doubt he had noticed it and even if he did, he didn't care.

“Wife to the wealthiest billionaire,” I recalled the headline to one of the many articles on us. “Everyone wants to be me. I wonder what they'd think when they find out what it's really like.”

It wasn't his fault and perhaps that was the reason why I couldn't hate him. The only person I could blame was myself and my family.

As the eldest son and the CEO of the largest food company in America, Damien has several rivals and enemies including his younger brother, Kyle.

Out of jealousy and a desire to be the heir to the company, Kyle had drugged Damien and paid my family to send me to his bed.

I hated the offer but agreed because my mother needed the money for her treatment and despite my wealthy background, my relationship with my family wasn't the best; I knew they wouldn't help me with my mum's treatment without getting something in return.

I didn't know he had been drugged by his brother and if I had known, I can't say that I wouldn't have accepted the money. All I wanted was to save my mother.

It was supposed to be a one-night stand—that is what I was told but later I discovered that it was a set-up for Damien and to keep his position as the heir, he had been instructed by his father to get married to me.

Despite all his efforts to change his father's mind and prove his innocence, he had to marry me and I couldn't refuse either because my mother was still in the hospital plus I had put him in that mess. I got married to him even when I knew he didn't love me.

Despite knowing he hated me more than he hated his brother because I had separated him from the woman he loved, I still married him. For a while, I also hated myself but learned to forgive myself.

I doubted he ever will but deep down, I hoped he did.

To others, he acted like the perfect husband but when he was alone with me, he was a cold-hearted demon.

He had never raised his hand or voice against me but he was cold and distant.

The only time he came close to me was when he wanted to have sex and immediately afterwards, he left for his room.

Even that was because his father wanted grandkids yet we hadn't had children despite it being two years.

I stepped into the shower.

“You were damn naive, Shawna,” I muttered.

I had assumed if I was a good wife who was kind, caring, and patient, we would be a couple who'd grow to love each other but that didn't happen. No matter what I did, he wasn't moved and I had given up on trying.

Just as I stepped out of the shower, my phone rang and my heart skipped two beats when I saw it was the nurse in charge of my mother calling her.

“Is my mum okay?” I immediately asked.

“It’s not your mum but it's way worse than that, Shawna and you need to come down here.”

My face fell. “Don't tell me it's…” I trailed off feeling anger coursing through me. If it wasn't my mom, it could only be one person.

“Yes, it's her.”