THE PRODIGAL BILLIONAIRE

I blinked back tears while staring at the worthless piece of paper. Memories of a life I left long ago flooded my mind.

‘Congratulations. You are ready to run a company!’

The words, etched in gold, seemed to mock me. There I was, with a duster in my hand, cleaning my husband's house.

I couldn't allow myself to think like that. I loved him, with all my heart.

Pushing those thoughts out of my mind, I straightened my back, focusing on the task at hand.

Five years ago, I chose my husband over wealth and power and I haven't regretted it. If only I was sure he felt the same way…

“Remi,” my mother-in-law, Celia yelled. “You better get your ass in the kitchen right now.”

The smell of burning food invaded my nostrils.

Oh no.

I flew down the stairs into the smoke-filled kitchen just in time to see Celia walking out and giving me a dirty look. I could have sworn I set the cooker to low heat.

“Here I am expecting grandchildren and you can't accomplish a task as simple as cooking without burning down the house,” she jeered through coughing fits.

I felt heat rise up the back of my neck. I didn't have to turn around to know the expression she wore; disdain. The same look she'd given me since Oscar introduced me to her.

“What will my son eat when he gets home? You’re useless.” She continued. “He works hard all day to provide a roof over your head and food on your table and you take it all for granted. Look at you wasting perfectly good food because you were combing your hair like a princess.”

I clenched my jaw shut, trying my best to hold my tongue and ignore her but her words were like burning arrows piercing into my brain over and over. With my eyes and nose watering from all the smoke, I kept on with the task at hand, scraping the burnt chicken casserole into the trash.

I swear, I put it on low heat. I never make this mistake, especially when I'm making his favourite. Only one other person could have done it.

My blood boiled but I knew I couldn't do or say anything. Because whatever I said or did, she would exaggerate. And that would only cause more problems in my marriage.

“Now I have to shower to get the smell of smoke out of my hair,” she spat as she skulked off.

It was past four. Oscar would be home soon. I felt bad that I'd have to whip up something quick. He deserved better after a long day of work.

Forgive me, my love.

I got around to preparing potatoes and steak when Celia came back.

“What happened to the water?” She asked.

I totally forgot. “I don't know,” I muttered.

She huffed as she walked off.

I totally forgot that I was going to pay our utility bills. Oscar had been having some money troubles and I wanted to ease his stress. What kind of wife would I be if I let my husband struggle when I could do something about it?

And I knew Oscar, he would push a broken down car for a mile before asking anyone for help.

Even though I knew it would pretty much wipe out my savings, it was absolutely worth it.

****

I heard him pull into the driveway and waited just at the top of the stairs so I could run down and hug him as soon as he walked through the door.

At the click of the front door lock, I sprinted down the stairs and rushed into him with my arms around his neck. He felt so stiff.

“I'm sweaty and tired,” he said, not bothering to hug me back.

I pulled away from him with hunched shoulders. Maybe he was right. Any man would hate for their wife to run up to them with a warm hug after a long day if work, right?

“I'll get your food ready.” I dragged my feet to the kitchen.

“What's for dinner,” he yelled, stopping half way up the stairs.

“Steak and potatoes.”

“Great. I work seventy hour weeks for steak potatoes.” Each heavy footfall as he stomped up the stairs made me physically cringe.

I decided to push back the thought brewing just beneath the surface. Why did he – no, I couldn't think like that.

Thankfully the potatoes were roasted just right and the steak was rested. Plating his food, I knew I'd performed a miracle. If only this miracle could help me.

I served three plates on the dining table and sat, waiting for Oscar and Celia to come down. Celia came down first and sat without so much as an acknowledgement of my efforts.

Then Oscar, freshly showered and freshly shaved, smelling like that aftershave I liked. He sat and we all dug in.

Serving him up for seconds, I didn't need to ask if he was enjoying his meal.

“Oh, by the way, the water isn't running anymore,” Celia said, breaking the monotony of clacking sounds of forks against plates.

“What do you mean? I just showered,” Oscar answered, brows furrowed.

“Really?” She asked.

His bewildered expression morphed into a look of realisation and he immediately glanced at me.

“Did you pay the water bill?”

Tingles rushed up and down my spine and try as I did, I couldn't fight the smile that forced its way onto my face.

“Yes,” I blurted out. “I wanted to give you an early birthday present. I know how things have been lately and I just wanted to ease your pressure.”

I felt so smug with my head held high and a million dollar smile on my face. Even Celia looked humble for once in her reproachful life.

Oscar chucked – a deep, rumbling sound that thrummed through all through my body and sent all the butterflies in my stomach fluttering.

“Are you happy now,” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

My mouth ached from the broad smile plastered on it.

“Oh you are? You're happy to emasculate me in my own house?” He shot to his feet, slamming both palms on the table.

I scurried back making my chair scrape against the floor. All the butterflies solidified into lead, settling in the pit of my stomach.

He was glaring at me and breathing so heavily, fire could have shot out of his mouth.

He rounded the table and shoved me back in my chair, almost tipping me over.

“You want to take my position in this house, right? Want me to call you madam?”

He got right in my face. So close, I could smell his funky breath. My heart felt like it was a piston, repeatedly slamming against my ribs. I dared not look in his eyes.

“When did I ask for your help, huh?” He raised his hand up and I braced.

He'd never hit me hard before but he'd never been this angry before.

He gently cupped my cheek. My breath froze.

“Don't ever do that again alright,” he said, lightly tapping my cheek. “You'll never have the chance to anyway,” he said before storming off to the living room.

The noise from the TV broke me out of my trance.

What the hell just happened? Why was he so angry?

I felt the tears welling up in my eyes.

“He really rattled you, huh?”

I glanced over to Celia and shockingly, she looked sympathetic.

My emotions were all out of whack. How was I supposed to feel?

Was I a bad wife for trying to help my husband? He thought I was trying to undermine him. I was such an idiot. How could I not have thought about that? I may have bought for it he was the man of the house after all.

“Since you have so much to spare, I have a group outing with some ladies from my church. I'll need to borrow some money for it,” Celia said, forking a big piece of steak into her mouth.

That was my final straw. The dam in my eyes burst. I rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, seeking the warm comfort of my bed.

The tears wouldn't stop, soaking my pillow case in seconds. My heart felt like a gaping wound and the empty space next to me felt radioactive.

I pulled the pregnancy test from under my pillow and stared at it.