BETRAYAL

"Holly mother of workaholics!" I rest my heavy head on my chair after parking in my compound. If shit was a person, huh!

I would love to rest even just a bit more, but not here. As I step out of my car in the modest driveway of my humble abode, I let out a deep sigh. Did I say humble? Sigh! What an understatement!

For heaven's sake, let me say that I live up to the weight of my title as Riccaford. Riccarford is a household name that rings a bell in each and every soul in this whole country. We are one of the owners of this country. A name that goes down from way back in time, in the times of our great ancestors. We are the gurus of money and power. I reek of wealth to the heavens, and I am not sorry to brag about it. I have both my entitlement and my sweat on this wealth. Yes, because I work my ass off from early morning until late at night beside my father to oversee the smooth and productive running of our businesses.

Ooh, by the way, I am Ellie Marrie Riccaford. The one and only child of my father and late mother!

People think that with this title, I am the luckiest soul in the world. I have it all. Well, I do money-wise. There is nothing in this world that money can buy that I can’t afford. I won’t even sweat over it. But is life all about money?

Bitter sigh!

Living lavishly and serving as my father's assistant as the head of the marketing department at his extensive hotel chain are the only benefits I get to enjoy as the person who has this title. Of course, this was far from my ideal profession, but I had no choice but to accede to my father's requests and demands since, as they say, who dared challenge Richard Riccaford? No one! No one dared, and I was just a naive kid who could not even look her daring father straight in the eye. His was to command, and mine was to obey, as an obedient child.

I have consistently complied with his requests, even when my mom was still living. Nothing has ever changed. Following commands is an obligation of being a Riccaford, and I think being the only child contributed much to my being this disadvantaged. Everything that my father sees as advantageous for him and his businesses is what you are required to do. And that too, without questioning his decisions. Whether I am okay with his choices or not, in the end, it’s his way that you will follow. My suggestions were never taken into consideration from the outset. I am the living shadow of my father. I am all that he wanted me to become. I am more of him than myself. I even forgot about having my own dreams along the way. What was the point? He is the remote of my life, pointing me in whatever direction he wants me to take.

And this sucks! So very much!

I have fulfilled all of his requests, obeyed all his damned orders, but the bomb that is set to go off tomorrow will jeopardize our relationship in ways which I have no control. The picture of our lives from tomorrow is so vague that I can’t even picture it!

Curious to know what I am ranting about?

Well, tomorrow marks my twentieth birthday. Birthdays, huh? They ought to be the days that I always go out of my way and have a taste of life outside work. It has been the only day that I get to sample some enjoyment. Go out. Have fun. Shop like I am shopping for the entire world. Spoil my small circle of buddies like it’s the last day of us together. Yeah, I do all that, but not tomorrow.

Tomorrow is so different. And if only I could, I would halt time in its tracks. I would beg the sun to remain still. I would ask for one thing—to remain in this moment forever—if I could have just one wish at this precise moment, it would be to always live as the nineteen-year-old I am. To never face tomorrow. I would ask for time to stand still forever. Because tomorrow is the auspicious day when I am supposed to meet my betrothed—some shitty jerk that I don’t even know his name. But then, hell knows, there is no way I will trade my life and happiness for that. I have obliged enough! I have been ordered around enough.

I have been a good daughter, and I still will continue to be. But if this will label me differently, then so be it! I have had enough of being controlled like an object that does not have a mind of its own or a say in its life. I say enough is enough. This time, I am daring to do what I have never even dreamed of doing—fight for my happiness and my rights. I have the right to choose who to marry. The person with whom I will spend my life should be my own choice.

I toss my life's sad tale to the side and begin stumbling inside. I'm worn out and drained. The weight of what awaits me tomorrow is not doing any justice to my tired self either. Before I read over the prose for my presentation for tomorrow's shareholders meetings, I might need to get some forty winks.

Yeah, yeah! I know. I need a good rest. A good sleep. A vacation would do given how tirelessly I have worked of late. But do I have time? Talk of workaholics!

I leap inside in excitement after realizing the door is not secured.

Sherry and Rose, two of my friends, told me they would see me tomorrow, of course, for the dreadful birthday celebration as I had just spoken to them on the way here. As if I want to celebrate! Bitter sigh! Give me a break, please! I am passing on their invite, but I just did not have the courage to turn them down physically. Hopefully, I will come up with a sweet believable excuse by sunrise. Perhaps, tell them that Leo offered to celebrate with me?

Speaking of Leo Theodore, my boyfriend, he is the only one with a spare key to this house. We have been dating for two years and frankly, it's high time we settle down. He is all that I could possibly want in a man, and I am the apple of his eye. Well, I have been wanting to be married for almost four months, but he is scared of the same thing that scares me.

Tomorrow! Damned tomorrow! This cursed day!

But there is nothing greater than love, right? He is one of the reasons I can't let my father trade me the way he wants to. I know I have little chance of winning, but I am holding on to the hope that love can change the unchangeable. And I am contesting this because of him. I'm ready to give up everything for him. I love him too much to leave him for anybody else, much less a fucking stranger who I have never even met and am not even thinking about meeting.

That aside. A miracle might happen before tomorrow that will change everything for the greater good, and in a good way that will not result in the fallout between Father and I. That has been my prayer ever since I learned of that stupid agreement.

For the time being, I'm grateful for Leo's thoughtfulness in coming here tonight. I need him now more than ever. He is my only solace right now. His gentle voice touch is the only thing that can make me feel better. He is the only one who truly understands me. A good fuck can also be put into consideration. Yeah! It will be a sweet remedy to forget everything that is beckoning even for a moment. When lastly did we even make love? I have been so absorbed in work, and he has been unbelievably understanding. Time to make up, I guess.

I push myself inside and shut the door behind me. I drop my handbag on the grey settee and was about to head to the kitchen for a glass of cold milk when I noticed something on the floor.

Red stilettos three inches high!

I freeze, staring at the unfamiliar shoes.

Aside from the fact that I dislike the color red unless it's a rose, of course, this is not my size. Besides, I don't normally wear such high stiletto heels. I might also be a workaholic, but I am such a neat asshole who would rather get late for work rather than leave my house in a mess. I make sure everything is where it should be before I step out of my house. I also don't recall either Sherry or Rose owning these shoes, and even if they did, they can't be here without my knowledge because they don't have a spare key.

So, whose pair is this?

I shift my legs and shuffle upstairs, albeit with a heavy heart.

Ever heard of a cold chill that threatens to paralyze your spine if you don't get a grip of yourself?

Or paranoia? That is me right now. My mind is spinning with a thousand things, but I can not even make out even just one of them. And this fuel is driving me, my ghosh!

I thought I was dragging my legs and my lazy wasted ass, but I got to my bedroom door much faster than someone who ran up the stairs. Keep in mind that I have looked into the other two rooms in this house, but that pair of shoes appears to have entered the house miraculously. I didn’t see anyone. Is it a form of witchcraft or magic?

This is the only remaining room that I am about to check, and it's my bedroom. Nobody would dare to enter my bedroom except my boyfriend, who is not transgender, dah!! My friends are well aware of how much I value my privacy. I also don't go around prying into other people's lives.

I slowly turn the door open, and the first thing that greets me...

"Oooh... aah... Faster Leo... Oh, my..."

"Oh, my goodness! LEO!" I assist the blonde babe beneath him in moaning, but mine echoes with a loud scream.

My phone, along with my jaw, drops to the floor as their ugly faces snap at me. My mind spins a thousand degrees. I am benumbed!

What the fuck is before my poor eyes?

I blink a couple of times, hoping to open my eyes and realize I'm just dreaming, but...

"Ellie." More horrendous than the sight of his standing tail between his legs is the way he flatly mumbles my name as he hovers off the whore, his dick leaving her hole with an annoying noise.

I am still in denial. That is why I am not crying. But this pain is tearing my heart from inside, perhaps summoning me to wake up to the disgusting absurdity before me. But, how can this be?

This is so not happening! Someone shoot me!

I lean against the wall, tears streaming down my cheeks. Finally! I guess reality just hit me now. I'm trembling, unable to believe that this two-legged snake by the name of my stepsister and my man are shamelessly screwing in my own home. And in my bed!

What the fuck is this?

No, way! No, how? How did things come to this point? The point of my fiance fucking a whore who happens to be my stepsister in my very own bed? How long have they been making a fool of me, to the point of bringing this heinous act into my bed?

"I'm sorry you had to learn this the hard way." I jerk my eyes open in the direction of this smelly, rotten bitch.

She has the nerve to open her stinking mouth to me after sucking the balls of this… I dash to her from the corner of my bed, where she is snoozing and trying to cover her pathetic nakedness with the duvet.

Wasted efforts, though! She can't even get the suffocating smell of their fornication out of this room. I am choking on it. Everything stinks! They both stink…

I swirl around and serve her what I can afford.

"Aaah!" She hadn't expected that. I savor the pain she is experiencing as a result of that resounding slap before grabbing her by the neck and dragging her from the bed.

"You bitch, let me go!" She screeches while struggling to breathe.