2

Married to the devil's son would be an understatement but married to a wealthy beast would have sounded much more better – only if he was really bunky as his appearance described him to be.

I never knew that not all that glitters are gold or should I say, don't judge a book by its cover?

Ha!

As a young girl growing up, I never knew or experience stranded or brokenness in finance. I learnt how to be frugal and how to be contended with whatever I have or was been given.

That discipline grew up along with me as a child and when I got to high school, I learnt to manage things, schedule funds for my miscellaneous and various expenses.

I knew what it really meant to have just one penny inside your pocket and how to value it and make it vital.

It's not like my family was poor or I came from a bad or low background.

My family was fucking wealthy. When I mean wealthy, I meant to say elegantly and sophisticatedly rich in multi millions.

But, it was not written on their foreheads. In fact, I never knew my parents where wealthy people not until I got to the age of thirteen.

When my parents died, I was just fifteen at that time of life. They willed all of their properties to me – everything in my name.

I wasn't after their money or what they've labored for, for years with their sweats. It only pained me more to know that it was the faulty brake of their car that cause the reason of their accident while on their way back from their wedding anniversary slash honeymoon in Jamaica.

As a young girl, it was very difficult to overcome that trauma and sudden shock. I remained like that for a year until I finally got to accept the fact that the dead are gone and gone to rest in their graves.

Let the living move on.

That was what I kept telling myself like almost forever.

Unfortunately, I never got to meet any of my relatives because they barely live in America with me. I only saw them once at my parents' funeral and that was it.

I used to have trophies and double promotions and scholarships in school because I was exceedingly brilliant and known as the students representative – whenever our school is out for spelling bees or inter-competitions.

I never had time for men, guys or boys. I felt like they're just distractions in ones life.

I even wondered how teenage girls used to develop crush on random guys. Because, I never had that time of looking at a person twice, talk much of giving too much attention to a man.

Men, guys, males or whatever they called it, were always at the bottom of my list if they'd be included.

They're the last and least people I'd want to have a conversation with.

I remember my father's words…..

He used to say….. 'Virginia, you are a Greene. You are never separated from the Greene family – us. And if you must succeed in life like us, there are things you need to ignore so you can get to your promise land.'

I stick to that also, like forever.

And that is what brought me to where I am today – the solid ground.

I can stand firm anywhere, anytime, any day as the only most acknowledged female pilot in America.

Yes!

I wish my parents where alive to see me climb to the top. I wish they could see the green flag in my hand as I stand at the tippy top – peak of the greatest mountain.

It has always been my dream to fly the world. I love to soar. Being a pilot was one of my dreams since I was a kid.

Dad used to gift me plenty of plane toys and mom used to take me to the arcades where I'd play pilot with her.

Slowly and just like that, I fell in love for the first time in my life at age nineteen with an ordinary man I thought to be matching richness with me.

I didn't mock him or blamed him for not having a penny in his pocket. In fact, I was his automatic teller machine.

Like a dispenser that supplies him money whenever he needs it.

Marc Jacobs was a very handsome man – tall, well-built, muscular, brawly, young at age twenty-one then and most of all, had a sweet deep voice.

I just got to college then when I met him. It was his second year in school and we flowed together like we've known each other for decades.

He lived with his family In a very small province of New Zealand.

I fell in love with his Zee accent. But same time, I was scared of distance relationship when he said we should become a thing.

I hid my feelings for him because I was shy to confess the real truth about my heart to him.

That day, I discovered how and why girls developed crushes on random men. But mine was too complicated to explain.

I've never felt that way before in my entire life.

And whenever I look, I see Marc even if he wasn't there.

I helped him with the school bills, tuition fees and all the miscellaneous expenses.

I was drugged and addicted to him whenever he was always around me like a shield and tower, protecting me and preventing me from getting court up by other frogs.

Marc and I had our first sex immediately we grad from college and got married in his home town – I needed to know if he was a patient man, so I kept him waiting until school was out of the list.

He blamed me for not telling him the truth about – me not having experience with the opposite sex and deeper because that day on our wedding night when he first came into me, I cried in both pain and pleasure and he hated himself for not discussing it with me first.

Though, I organized the wedding and honeymoon plans, I also helped him get a job in one of the fast growing companies in New Zeeland.

Meanwhile, I recently got a good paying job as a pilot in one of the biggest airlines company in the same New Zeeland.

Everything was going sweetly and well. I was enjoying my marriage with Marc and we barely have issues with each other.

Most times when we're free on weekends, we hangout or go on dates – especially dinner dates. We traveled during holidays and make love in the finest five stars hotels.

After two years, we welcomed our daughter, Irene Jacobs.

The family became more bubbly when Irene came. She was like a light that lit up the entire rooms in the house.

I didn't only fell in love with my husband but also for my daughter too.

I loved my daughter so much and I showered her the best motherly love – greater than the one I gained from my own mother.

I named her Irene after my own mother's name, Irena Greene.

Irene Jacobs was so beautiful with the tantalizing sea green eyes. She got it from Marc, her father. My husband.

Everything slowly changed from sweet to sour when Irene turned five. Then, my marriage with Marc was just seven years old.

It was when he started keeping up late at night and making fake excuses of traveling for business appointments – almost all the time in a week did I find out that he was actually sleeping with his colleague – Rita Parker.

I knew what I pass through to bear the situation and accept what was going on. But still yet, it was very difficult to admit that my husband was sleeping with another lady for good one year under my nose.

I almost had a mini heart attack and an asthma when he boldly told me to my face that he was having an affair after I found out and that the other woman was carrying his child.

Oh Lord, the earth bears me witness – how much I wanted God to just take my soul, my life out of me.

This was the same man I gave my all to. I loved him equally with everything I had – with all of myself.

I never cheated on him one day since the day we met.

My dad didn't do this to my mom. They lived a happy life till their last days, why was mine so different?

The issue became worse when he told me that he never loved me for loving sake. He said he only loved what I carry. That was my assets and net worth.

He said, during that time we were dating in college, he was already having an affair with so many girls but unknowing to me, I was just an easy catch for him.

A prey for his hunger and a financial answer to all his poor prayers.

I couldn't believe that was my husband speaking.

He told me he was fed up of having me in his life and he wants to switch things.

Switch things?

Nothing occur in my head what he was trying to say.

Until the day he slapped a divorce paper on my face.

I don't know my offense to deserve this. Heaven knew how I tried to be a good wife and mother in the family.

Things fell apart, especially the time I later found out that Rita Parker had a baby girl for him.

It was from informants and tattletales, I got to know that he later left Rita Parker to someone else because she couldn't provide him a male child.

He was always finding faults in everything. But thankfully, I was nowhere with him anymore.

I already took Irene with me and left. Ever since that day, he didn't call or contacted to check on our daughter or bother coming to find where we were living – whether we were dead or alive.

Although, I thank God he didn't show his face again for years.

I put Irene in a boarding school since basic one and boarding high school when she came of age. Until today, I don't know why all my payments for her expenses and bills in school, kept refunding back into my account.

When she got admission into high school, I just got a double promotion at work and I was transferred to work in my country – America. Basically in my town, LA.

It wasn't easy to stay poles apart from my daughter who studied in New Zeeland all by herself but good thing phones are on board and I also needed to teach her independency and solitude as a young girl.

Maybe that's the reason why she's so low self-esteem. It took me time to know that my daughter wasn't mute. It's just her kind of personality. She barely talk with people. She doesn't mingle. She doesn't like crowded places – this was not the type of solitude I needed to teach her.

Outside her uniform attire, she dresses in male fashion. Baggy clothes that'd make her look so thin in it. She can't breathe one minute if she stays in a mini skirt or pom pom.

And she hates make-up and heels.

You know…. I used to tease her and call her Virgin Mary. But she hates it. There's a reason why I call her so.

She's just as the first name of the tease. She has zero friends. Every time, every day, she's always seen studying.

Sometimes, I'd become afraid her brain doesn't explode from too much of reading.

She loves biology, physics, chemistry and algorithm. She said to become a nurse or microbiologist when she grows up.

I knew what I went through as a young girl growing up, so I don't want my daughter to experience too much of it. Especially the part where I married the wrong man of my life.

Irene seems to be the only family in my life and I'd do anything to make her happy. Even if it's to sacrifice my life for hers.

As time goes on, I was finding my place a bit inconvenient, so I decided to change environment.

I got a new apartment I rented online. I couldn't go searching places when I never got enough time for myself, talk much of free times after work.

The place was okay and I liked it when the agent showed me around.

It was two days after that I found out I wasn't living in the apartment alone. I talked with the agent slash caretaker to refund my money back that I was going to leave – pack out.

But he told me, he couldn't until my rent expires for the year.

Really?

I'll be sharing an apartment with a twenty year old freshman – basketballer slash rapper – student of university of California?

Oh. That's very impossible, honey.

Because am not a kind of person fond to be with after what life had taught me. Even my daughter had to stay apart from me talk much of a stranger – a young boy old enough to be my son.

There was nothing I could do, other than to accept I already have an housemate.

It was so hard to cope with this boy. He wasn't a match for me in the same house.

It's either he threw a night party with all his dubious friends smoking pipes, marijuana, weeds and fucking young girls at every corner in the house or he'll be busy disturbing and turning the house upside down with his music rehearsals or basketball practice at the backyard.

I counted my fingers and mark my calendars every single day. I can't wait for the year to end. It is so unbearable living with someone like this.

Sometimes, I had to beg my coworkers to spare me a room in their house for just one night where I can find peace.

But gradually, I had to stop before their wives would start thinking otherwise.

The last thing I'd do is stealing away somebody's husband and that would not happen. I won't be the one to start it in the Greene family.

Never!

And do you know the worse part of it? This stupid college boy named Sebastian Wealth Amato, doesn't even know my name for the past one month we've been living together in the same house.

Is not like I wanted him to know but – I don't just like how he tunes my name anyhow.

What does he mean by Vagina?

For goodness sake, I already corrected him like a million times and am tired of doing so everytime.

My name is not Vagina or whatever he calls it. My name is Virginia. Is Virginia still too hard to pronounce?

He address himself as a college student and still, couldn't pronounce a simple word.

I hated his Italian accent and how he smiles and looks at me as if I was wearing nothing and just standing in front of him like a submissive whore.

Without being told, he doesn't even add a single slim of respect to my name. He calls me as if am his age mate or something.

Am older than him. Am thirty-eight, can't you see the age gap? At least if not for anything, couldn't he see me and respect me like his mother for once?

Sometimes, I just keeps him quiet while other days when am insane, I just throw things at him and he just dodges them – catches them and then laughs at me.

I hated myself for wearing black leggings and crop tops that shows my full optional body without disguise.

It only end up filling the house with his whistles and indirect speech of calling me 'Hot' and 'Cute.' In Italian.

I might look small and petite and younger than my age in appearance but am still not his mate. All because he is taller and beefy and stronger than me.

To me, he is still a kid who doesn't know shit about life yet and he has a long way to go in life.

A very long way. And if he must get there, there are things he must avoid.

Example; playing with fire.

I am fire. Dangerous and unquenchable. He who touches me, get burnt for life. Especially now that am like a wounded lion, I don't give a shit to whosoever. I do my things my own way because life has taught me a big lesson, and any one who steps on my doorpost, I'll crush them to pieces.