His Second Wife

Chapter 16

~Camila’s POV~ Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

I couldn’t think clearly.

What made him kiss me? Why did my first kiss have to be with him, of all people?

I couldn’t stop rubbing her lips to get Christopher’s fingerprints off or rather lips off.

Why did he feel compelled to kiss me? Is he insane? What exactly does this mean? Is he trying to make things difficult for us?

I removed my gown and proceeded to the shower. I then put on something normal and sat on the bed.

Why did I choose to marry someone like him? Isn’t marriage supposed to be about having a happily ever after?

They say love represents the start of a new life. But this is not how I envisaged my experience to be. I married a guy to get a permanent residency card. This union is a never-ending series of pains and sacrifices. Regularly, I am insulted. Every day, he creates headlines, and I have no choice but to sit and watch.

Christopher is prosperous; why didn’t he take one of the whores as his sham wife? Why did he have to choose me? Why do I feel like I’ve been the target all along? There have to be tons of ladies who would give their lives to be his wife. Why did I? Why did I agree to marry him without first doing a background check? He is very prosperous and owns numerous businesses. Everyone dreaded the business tycoon. I despise that arrogant jerk. How come I didn’t break the kiss? Am I a moron?

I massaged my brow. People on the outside may think I have the best life, yet Chris and my lives are not perfect. We always fight like cats and rats, and to be honest, I’m growing bored with it.

Here I am, 21 years old, married to a tycoon whore rather than Mrs. Grayston and a mother. Well, the only thing I like about this marriage is my kid, whom the mother may take back at any point.

Can I go up against her?

I know one thing is certain, I would go to the ends of the earth for that child. He’s all mine. Some 21- year-old women are pursuing their ambitions. I’m pursuing my aspirations while dealing with familial issues. I sneered at myself for marrying Chris without knowing anything about him. I am 100% sure that I will die a bitter virgin! I sneered once more at my comment. Camila Grayston was Camila Mendoza before she married the manwhore. The Mendozas don’t bow down to anybody. I went to the cellar and bought my favorite wine, Domaine Leroy Musigny Grand Cru. Since back in Mexico, this has been her favorite wine. I praised God that Chris had a wonderful sense of taste in wine. While I was in the cellar, a thought occurred to me.

Maybe I should tell him I want a divorce, and then we can talk about how we’re going to raise our kid.

I prepared dinner and set the table. It was around eight o’clock when I heard him enter the house. The two of us were alone at the dinner table. Liam had already fallen asleep.

I walked to the other side of the table, away from him, to prevent us from choking each other as usual; I know what I’m going to say. I’d be strangled, and we’d quarrel as usual.

In this home, we quarrel and give each other lessons. He sat down and began eating.

“You are a great cook, Camile. The meal is delicious.” He complimented. Disgusted, I stared at him.

How could he kiss me and then behave as if nothing had happened?

“Thank you,” I said. He stared at me, then at my uneaten meal.

“You should eat it; it’s delicious.” With his fork, he pointed at my plate.

But I hadn’t come here to eat. I came here to talk about divorce. He went too far, and it’s going to be unpleasant for us. How are we going to share a bed again without crossing the line again?

I poured a glass of wine for myself. The bottle was just half full. He was taken aback as I gulped down everything at once.

“You should be careful with it. It’s wine, after all, not water.”

How dare he talk to me as though I have never drunk wine before, how dare he treat me so poorly? Is he insinuating that I don’t know anything about wine?

I sat back in my chair and rested my elbows on the table.

“I want a divorce,” I spoke slowly, but enough for him to hear me. He put down his fork and gave me a lethal glare.

“Given what occurred previously, that’s out of the question.” He responded, and my rage took its toll on me.

“We’re just housemates. You don’t like me. I hate your guts!” I spat out.

“How are you going to explain to Liam that we are splitting up? Remember how you told him you wouldn’t abandon him?”

“Are you planning on using our son on me now?”

“It’s a valid question, Mrs. Grayston.”

How dare he mock me? How dare he?

“Forget it if you don’t come up with the most efficient way to inform Liam that you’re leaving. I’m not bringing another woman to care for my kid. Liam has no idea who his biological mother is. I’d want to

keep him thinking of you as his mother. Do you get what I mean?” He stated that quietly and resumed munching his meal as if I hadn’t said anything.

“I’m seeing Charles tomorrow.” I’m not sure where it came from, but it came out of nowhere and that was a lie. I wanted to piss him off.

Oh my goodness, I’ve just dug my own grave.

I saw him gently setting his fork on the table, wiping his mouth, and placing the napkin on the table.

“Who exactly is Charles?” My legs were trembling under the table.

I had a feeling we were about to argue, but who cares?

Since we were married, we’ve been choking each other.

“The guy I met at the restaurant today,” I said,

“Don’t you dare! Camila Grayston, If you dare me I will end you” His teeth were clenched.

“It seems to be working for you.” I retorted. I wasn’t afraid of him, and he knows it, and I’m not going to put up with his nonsense anymore!

“Camila Grayston,” he says. His tone was solemn and foreboding. He looked at him, I strained my eyes.

“You don’t like the idea of being humiliated, huh? You’re really repulsive. I may do whatever I want and sleep with whoever I want unless you’re going to waste my time and beat me into listening to you.” I don’t know how he got to where I was, but I was pressed against the wall.

“Are you going to beat me? Since you are the king, go ahead and beat me. After all, you are free to fuck anyone you choose, but I am not. Who the bloody hell do you think you are?” I yelled at him.

“I’m your fucking husband, Camille,” he said. I laughed at him, and I could see he was taken aback by my mockingly bold chuckle.

“Husband, you are not a husband; you are a man whore, an embarrassment, and a blunder in my life.” I saw his eyes flinch. He let go of me. He dragged me to bed. For a moment I thought he might lose his cool and fuck me. But to my surprise, he didn’t rape me. He laid me down and covered me with some bedsheets.

“Camille, you’re drunk. Sleep. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.” I fixed my gaze on him. I couldn’t stop crying. He wiped my tears away with his hands.

“I’m sorry about the kiss, Camille. I know I went too far. I assure you that it will never happen again. Let’s see if we can make this work for Liam.”

He is constantly looking for a reason to exploit my son to get what he wants, and it always works. I fixed my gaze on him.

“For Liam,” I said and he gave me a nod and stroked my hair. I was fast asleep before I realized it.