A Wife for the Billionaire
Chapter 73: SOFIA

Chapter 73: SOFIA

SOFIA

If what happened five minutes ago was counted as a success, then it sure doesn’t feel like it.

I had left Anna Wintour’s office five minutes ago and I’m yet to decide which way forward.

I haven’t even halted a cab. I had been walking since and I needed the air, the open space, plus I needed to process all that had happened and walking gave me the time and avenue for that.

A man walked past me, more like staggered past me. The stench of alcohol trailing after him.

The streets were almost empty, only a few pedestrians walked by, a social worker pushed an aged woman in her wheelchair. Kids who should be in school, there were five of them, chattering about the arcade as they hurried by, their backpacks clapping against their backs.

I even walked past what must’ve been a gay hookup, two guys having an intense assfuck in the back of the car, the action causing a swinging motion of the car.

Looking away from them, I forced myself back to my thoughts.

I had forced a smile as Anna patted me in the back when she led me out of her office.

We had come to some sort of an agreement, or should I say... an arrangement. She was to publish a front page issue of the Wellington latest collection if I wrote the article. Of course, it won’t be my name that will be on the magazine as the writer.

And she would do so with hopes that

after getting the job, and saving Harry’s,

I would find a way to convince Richard to continue in his father’s agreement. To let down his pride and do the needful.

But isn’t that as hard as trying to push a stubborn bull into the barn? And how was I going to do that when the guy vexed me?

As much as I had been enthusiastic about our toast, my heart gnawed at me for what I was about to do. For the game of sabotage, I had in store.

And even if I decide to go through with this, who’s to say the narcissist prick would agree to Anna’s terms? Who’s to say he won’t exploit this as a means to get back at me?

"No, this is important to him," my mind echoed.

But even at that men like Richard

Wellington would rather stab themselves than admit that they actually need something, especially from someone like me.

More importantly, how would Cole take all these? Knowing him, he would probably be ecstatic for me, whether he’s aware of how I hurt him to secure the job or not. And I think that’s what makes it all the more heart wrecking, if he would just be angry at me I think I would prefer that.

I kicked a trash can as I fought with my frustration. I had come so far to begin grooming doubts and fears, besides what’s the worst that could happen if I grovel before him one more time?

Resolved to the fact that there was only one way to go but forward, I moved away from the sidewalk and halted a cab.

"Where to?" The cab lady asked.

I may have made the decision to get through with this, but that doesn’t mean I was ready. In fact I was anything but ready.

"Hello?!" The lady practically yelled, waving her hand on my face.

With an audible sworn curse, I forced myself to say,

"Wellington Fashion"

"Girl, that’s what you has been thinking, or did you forget." With a hiss, she finished, "You bitches, be wil’ing"

As she changed the gear from packing to drive, it also felt like something changed within me, something so draining that responding to her silly comments felt like a waste of time and energy.

A war raged within me as the cab sped along. I was torn between what I had to do and what I didn’t want to do.

I forced myself to make a mental list of all the reasons why I should take the job and another for why I shouldn’t.

I had to take the job for Harry’s sake, for the hopes Anna had for future dealings with the Wellington Empire, for my future, for a chance to see my mom or truly find out what happened to her, for a shot at proving Alicia and her daughters wrong and for the chance to get back at Richard Wellington by saving his collection and smearing that victory in his face.

On the other list, I couldn’t take the job because of Cole, because he had been so kind and different that taking the job away from him would be nothing short of cruel. I also couldn’t take the job because of my conscience. I doubt it would let any day pass without reminding me of what I had done to secure the job... whom I had hurt to get there.

Basically, I had just one reason why I couldn’t take the job, no matter how many versions or analogies I used.

And yet, that one reason seemed to outweigh the others. With the two lists weighed on the scale of my conscience, the left side - the side with only a reason on the list weighed more than the other side with what seemed like tons of reasons to take the job.

Normally this mental list helped me make the right decision, but in this case it felt like it swayed me towards the most rational decision.

The list had helped me so many times in the past that it was now a part of me. It was not just a means for me to make better decisions, it was an essential tool for survival.

When I first came to live with the Blakes, it had convinced me on that cold night I lay twisting and turning, my stomach growling, there was no choice, but to remain living.

I remember that that night, the list I had made was divided into reasons to live and those to die. Just like this moment, the reasons to die were tons, all branching on one tree, the relief that comes with ending it all.

The other list held little to no suitable reason for continuing except the fickle hopes of what might be and what could be.

I knew the chances of me making it were slim, especially if I was to remain within the coffers of Alicia and her evil daughters.

And that was real as opposed to daydreaming or fantasizing of anything other than that.

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to succeed, I burned to excel, to work hard and make enough to free myself from the shackles of Alicia’s talons. But, the possibility of that outcome wavered on a very thin thread.

To end it all was the best choice, to sleep and never wake again. Who knows, if my mom was really dead as speculated, perhaps I would join her.

I remember silently stalking to the kitchen, carefully retrieving a table knife and dropping it almost immediately. I couldn’t give Alicia and her daughters the satisfaction of thinking they pushed me to stabbing myself. I needed to die in such a way that they would suffer a bit before ascertaining my cause of death.

So, resolved to rat poison, I mixed the substance in water and somehow I couldn’t bring myself to drink it. Several times, I had raised the cup to my lips, several times I had been this close to dying, but I couldn’t do it.

I was a coward and even now, I fear I still am.

For hours, I deliberated on whether to gulp the liquid or find another alternative for a peaceful exit out of this plane.

At one point, I just sagged to the cold marble floors. I think my legs just gave up. And once again, I was reminded that I wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for my parents. This crossroads I found myself in wouldn’t even be, if my mom had taken a step back when she realized who Simon truly was.

I don’t remember sleeping that night,

I just sat there crying my soul out. And to be honest, I don’t really know when it happened or how, but I resolved to keep going, if not for anything because I couldn’t find a way to end it all.

It’s stupid, but I remember telling myself as I rose from the floors that had grown warm, that though I hadn’t been able to find courage to end it all, I would one day, but until then I’ll have to keep living. Keep going.

"Here we are," the cab lady announced as the cab came to a halt.

Handing her the fee, I alighted from the cab and just like yesterday I stood before the towering glass façade of the Wellington Fashion Headquarters. But unlike yesterday, those revolving glass doors weren’t so appealing anymore.

Filled with dread and resolved to do what I have to do, I walked forward.