A Wife for the Billionaire

"Why must everything be a joke to you?!" Edward barked.

I didn’t as much as look at him.

"You know very well how much I spent to shield you from national disgrace and here you are throwing it in my face, perhaps I should never have done it. Maybe the heat of it all would have taught you a lesson"

I kept buttoning my shirt.

"Why do you keep doing this? Why must you vex me so? Why must you do things that make me regret siring you? I threw a birthday party for you and instead of enjoying it, you are here fucking one of the caterers_"

"If that isn’t enjoyment, I wonder what is?" I cut in.

" Argh!" He screamed, punching the wall so close to my face, that I wondered if his aim had been my face before he decided otherwise.

"And where are you going?" He asked.

"Where else, to the shit show of a party you threw, of course!"

And I slammed the door, shutting out his ’Come back here, we’re not done’ barks.

I had been so angry with him that when I was called to the stage for my speech, my heart gave out.

There’s this_ I don’t know whether to call it a fact or fiction, that states that when a person dies, they’re left with 7 minutes of brain activity and in that time, the mind plays back the person’s memories in a dreamlike sequence.