Yes, Daddies: Submitting to the four brothers.

MARIAN.

“Let’s get a divorce, Marian.”

My eyes widen, but not because of the statement, but because of how much thought he has put into getting a divorce.

Well, at least that proves he’ll put effort into something if it means getting away from me—the woman who stuck with him for ten years, and handed everything she’s worked hard for to him.

I stare at the paper he’d slammed on the table, and examine it, determined not to show an iota of emotion even though this is tearing me apart inside.

“Let’s face it, you and I, we were never going to work out, Marian. You know it, I know it, everyone else knows it.” He continues talking, and the sound of his voice is like metal on a chalkboard to my ears.

I can’t believe I let myself fall in love with him. I can’t believe I gave him ten years of my life. I cannot believe that I worked so hard for the world to know his name.

Looking up, my eyes drift to the fool sprawled out on the bed—our bed, my matrimonial bed—and I can’t stop the scoff as it leaves my mouth. She's smiling as if enjoying the little show my husband is putting up.

I want to grab the whiskey bottle and ram it into her head, into both their heads, but I clench my fist and force down the bile that has formed in my throat before looking back at my husband.

“A divorce, huh?” I finally speak, forcing down all of my emotions as if I’m not dying to run out of this bedroom like a coward that I’m allowed to allow myself to be.

I pick up the paper and go through it carefully, my eyes scanning every condition, and I can’t stop the laughter that rakes my throat. “You must be fucking joking!” I throw the paper at him.

“You’re claiming full ownership of the company?” I say amidst my laugh. “The same damn company I worked my ass off for? The company where all you do is show up and sleep with half the women?”

I don’t even care that there is a slutty blonde on the bed, to hell with whatever scandal that’s going to break out. I’m not letting this son of a bitch walk out with what I worked hard for.

“Velmora is my blood, sweat and my tears! I worked for years to build it up to what it is now, Malcolm, there is no way in hell that I am letting you walk away with what I built. Did you hear that? I BUILT IT!”

Ah, there goes my calm demeanor. I’d told myself to remain calm and handle whatever Malcolm had decided to throw my way logically and not emotionally, but it’s hard to remain calm.

It’s hard to think logically when he’s being this stupid! Walk away with 90% ownership of Velmora? Like hell I’m going to let that happen.

The sound of his laughter jolts me out of my thoughts, and I lift my gaze to see him actually laughing from the bottom of his stomach. “You’re funny.” He laughs even harder.

Once upon a time, butterflies would swarm my stomach at the sound of that laugh. Once upon a time, the fact that he’s in nothing but the designer briefs he has on would turn me on, but right now, I feel nothing but rage.

I want to kill him. I’m already picturing myself in orange prison wear, but I have a lot of things I want to do, a lot of things I have to do, and the last thing I’m going to do is allow this bastard to be the reason I go to jail.

“What were you expecting? That I’m going to give you half of it, or that I’m going to walk away with nothing and leave you with everything WE both worked hard for?” He shouts, and my blood runs cold, my throat goes dry.

We? There is no ‘we’ in Velmora, everything is all me. The inheritance money my parents left me after their death is what I used to build Velmora.

“Have you forgotten, Marian?” His voice drops as he starts walking towards me, and I can hear bells ringing so loud in my ears that I almost didn’t hear anything else.

Before I can blink, Malcolm grabs me by the neck, his grip tightening so hard that it cuts off my air supply, and my eyes widens as I try to get him to let go of me.

My eyes burn, the bells in my head ring even louder, and my eyes are fighting so hard to stay open. “My name is what’s on the ownership documents.” He says, and when I recall, I feel a tightening in my stomach.

Oh, I was stupidly drunk in love. Why did I do that? Why the hell did I put his name down instead of mine all in the name of love.

“I’m trying to make this as clean as possible, but if your intention is to fight it, then you will leave me no choice but to reduce you to nothing, Marian.” He laughs, the sound causing cold chills to run down my spine.

“You might have built Velmora, you might have worked hard for it, but at the end of the day, every last cent Velmora has generated belongs to me.” He spits as he finally releases me.

My legs give out immediately, my pulse is erratic and my breath comes in ragged gasps as I cough, drawing in air and exhaling in rapid bursts.

I was in love with him, and I hated the media. I didn’t want my face all over the papers, I didn’t want to draw so much attention to myself, and so I’d thought that I was going to do the right thing, put my husband in control of everything.

After all, we loved each other. It was for better or worse. For years, Malcolm showered me with as much love as I’ve always craved. If I knew it was because of what he was going to get out of it, I wouldn’t have let myself be so stupid.

“I’m in no rush, Marian,” he smiles as he crouches in front of me. “Take your time, but just know you’re signing the papers, and we’re getting divorced. You will walk away with 10% or nothing at all.”

I want to go back in time and slap twenty-five years old me. I want to tell her that she’s making a big mistake getting married to Malcolm Roberts.

“Thank goodness you’re barren, there is no child tying us together, and I don’t have to pay child support.” He says as if it’s my fault that I haven’t given birth.

I’ve kept it from him for so long, and I contemplate whether or not to tell him that I haven’t been able to conceive because he’s been shooting blanks.

He’s the problem, not me, but I stop myself. What good will that do now?

I scamper to my feet, biting my lower lip so hard that I can taste the blood, but I smile. “You’re free to do whatever you want, Malcolm. However, I’m not signing this divorce paper, not until I’m sure that’s what you really want.”

That’s right. I need to buy time, but I can’t let my dumb husband know that.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He bellows at me, but I only keep my eyes on him as I grab the divorce papers and tear it to shreds, dropping the pieces on the ground.

“I’ll do you one better. Let’s have an open marriage, Malcolm. That way, you can fuck anyone you want, and I’ll do my thing. You can keep Velmora, but you know that without me, that company will crumble.”

“I’ve been running it for more than eight years, Malcolm. The company needs me, and if this open marriage doesn’t work out. We can get a divorce.” I finish.

The silence that settles in the bedroom is palpable, my heart is beating fast as I keep praying for him to accept it. If he does, I can start working on how to reclaim ownership, I can start gathering evidence as long as we stay married.

And in the end, I will be the one to ask for divorce while he desperately begs for me to not leave him in the dry.

“Fine,” he’s smiling now, he must think an open marriage is the best idea, that way, he can keep parading me as his wife while his dick goes in every hole. “We’ll have an open marriage, the company needs your stupid brain after-all.”

He’s so fucking easy. So easy.

“Good.” I say with a smile, grabbing my bag and making my way out, I was about to walk out the door when I heard the conversation between him and that slut on the bed.

“Worry? Why should I worry?” Malcolm laughs as if he doesn’t care that I’m still in the room.

Well, he doesn’t.

“She’s practically useless, she’s a boring fuck that can’t even hold a doggy position for longer than five seconds. She rides like an asthmatic fucking dog.” He laughs again.

“Most of the times I’ve had to cum, I had to picture another woman’s face.” He continues, “and don’t even get me started on the blow job she gives. All she does in the bedroom is lay on the bed like a fucking corpse while I do all the work.”

“So why should I be worried about having an open marriage?” He pauses for a moment and I can feel his eyes on my back. My eyes stings, but I force myself to blink back the tears.

“I know for sure that no man will ever want her. I don’t even want her.” He erupts in a loud laugh that makes my stomach snap.

I spin around to look at him, hot tears burning my eyes, but I’m determined not to cry, at least not in front of him. I want to toss my bag at him, but I only force myself to hold my head up as I walk out.

I make my way to my personal bedroom, go straight to my walk-in closet, and start trying on clothes—something sexy enough to wear somewhere I can’t be ignored.

He’s going to regret it. I will make him regret it.