A Wife for the Billionaire

The drive back to my apartment at Tall Springs was muddled by the thoughts that disheveled my mind.

I was so pissed, all my life it seemed everything I did was either arranged or plotted. I hadn’t even wanted to be the CEO, there were times I allowed myself to dream about other things. Other pursuits. Things I could have been had I not been entangled with the name ’Wellington’.

I imagined myself being an artist, with a studio downtown where I would create paintings and artworks worthy of international accolades while listening to my favorite songwriters.

Or a solo designer who worked for no one, selling my designs to the highest bidder.

One could say that the life I live now was better than those of my imaginations because I’m an artist with international accolades, Belle at the Ball, had won a French award and fetched me recognition in various parts of the world. And I’m a designer with no need to sell my designs and not be accredited for my skill, because I own the company.

But I know my life would surely be less complicated if I didn’t have the Wellington name, or born heir.

Most times I wonder why Edward never took another wife or tried to have another child. Especially after discovering that I was born with a weak heart and I wasn’t destined to live long.

I never quite understood the dynamics of my parents relationship, perhaps it was simple. I mean there’s only one thing that could make a man stick to a woman even after she cheated on him.

Love. That was it, but I really don’t buy it. The mere thought of Edward, my father being capable of love, was absurd. He hadn’t even loved me, so how could he love the woman who had birthed a weak thing as he always called, like me?

There had to be something else, something they were hiding from me. It had to be that Claire held him with something, perhaps a blackmail, or something stronger.

It had to be, because with the succession of the head family hinged on the saliency of an heir, surely Edward couldn’t afford to depend on the ficklety of one choice.

Unless...