Maraïda: The Billionaire's Surrogate (Billionaire One)(Completed)

Complicated

My beautiful wife is named Sophia Ellison's k Shenko though sometimes I call her Mia as in my cara mia. She had been my pillar and shield through some pretty rough moments of my life. I met her when I was eight. We became a weird duo of best friends. During our teenage years, she and I would pretend to be gay to get find the perfect match for each other.

Stupid! I know!

But it was a fun exercise that kept us both very engage in each others life. So much so that we became each others perfect match unknowingly.

It all became clear on one drunken night. After we'd both gone wrong on our dates, we ended up in an abandoned school which was supposedly haunted and talked. We talked about our lives, our problems, our lucks in every sector of life: we fought, we cried and laughed; at one point, we saw ourselves in each others eyes, then, we engaged in hot, passionate love making.

It was and still is by far the best night of my life.

But fives awkward weeks later, we learnt the hard way never to have sex in area where there's no reach for protection. She told me she was pregnant. I loved her; I really did, but I wasn't sure about wanting a child. I wanted to be a man first before becoming a father. I was still in the process of rising as a young successful businessman and a child I thought then, would disrupt all that. I wasn't ready for the responsibilities that came with having a mouth to feed and cater after. It was back then to me a nuisance.

Imagine the irony now!

Seven years later that decision still hunted me. I never said anything to her about how I felt, never told her about me not wanting or rather not being ready for a child, less so about the reasons behind it. I just distant myself from her andas I hoped, on her own she got the message.

But she left!

She disappeared off my eyes for almost two years after she told me of her pregnancy and my stinky attitude hurt her feelings. I hurt her; I blamed myself for the longest time. I wished I could take it all back; because almost immediately after she left, things began looking up for me and all I wanted was for her to be there with me.

When she came back, she made it a dramatic comeback.

It was like one of this comebacks from cheesy romance movies. She was beautiful, gorgeous if I may say. Her normal Bob haircut was flowing down her back in long beautiful parted waves; its normal medium blonde colour was now a bright platinum blonde shade. Her body was banging and her skin glowing. The only things about her that didn't change were the freckles scattered all across her nose and cheeks, and her million dollar smile. Her blue eyes hadn't change either but that beautiful sparkle in it had disappeared. Looking at them was like looking at another person.

She was working on a career as a social media influencer, content creator, blogger and fashion critic.

She had made quite a name for herself that she was a big time celebrity in our small town.

It took me only one look at her in the arms of another man to regret ever letting her go. I wanted her back;I fought for her; I courted her all over again. We had both grown up and changed and matured. We both decided to forget about our past and look forward to the future.

I got her back, I won her love again but with a heavy weight I've had to carry for the last six years. I thought I could be contempt with just her but I couldn't.

At first, as we both shared the blame of never being able bear children of our own, I thought having just the love of my life in my life was enough. But it never was: with every passing day, I made so much money that all I wanted was a child of my own to spoil with everything good and beautiful in this world. I thought about it so much that I became obsessed with the idea; so obsessed that I forgot how to love my wife and enjoy my home.

It was all my fault, I know, but she'd never let me take the blame for it. She never let me again take the blame for it.

How things transpired was not something I wanted to discuss at that moment when she walked into our bedroom with trails of dry tears on her cheeks. She had cried some more.

"Why?" she asked, her voiced a little croaky from crying.

"Why what?" I asked back not giving her a second look. Her vulnerability sickened me.

"Why are you trying to hurt me? Why are you doing this to me? Why are you trying to ruin this home we built? Is it me? Have I not been a good wife to you Jared? Did I do something that word make you hate me so much as to bring your mistress in our matrix home? Why would you bring her here? Why are you trying to hurt me?" even though sadness wreaked in her tone and the croakiness in her voice wasn't doing justice to her voice, it still sounded so calm and poised.

"Aren't you bloody tired already? Don't you even look at yourself for a second and feel sorry Sophia? I cheated on you with a hooker, she's pregnant and I'm bringing her here. Any woman in her right mind would freak out and break stuff or better break stuff on her husband's head but you do nothing. No you do stuff- like cry alone and come back here like all is fine. Sophia..." I wanted to say but stopped when she turned away to the window corner. She lifted up the vase that stood by the window high in the air then dropped it. It shattered to a million pieces.

"There! I broke something. Are you happy?" her voice grew an octave and a pitch high with every word. "I. broke. something. But it hasn't fucking fixed anything. It never does." she was now yelling, "I tried to shoved it all in but you don't do anything to help but bring me more pain...and I can't take it anymore." She propped her knees to the floor. digging her palms with her face.

This was not quite it but it was almost what I had been waiting from her all these years. For her to share her pain with me. But it all went so wrong; she started packing her stuff saying she was leaving me.

It was way worse than I had imagined it and I wasn't liking it.

At all.