The Ninth Wife of A Billionaire

BLAIR'S POV

As I opened my eyes on yet another gloomy morning, I opened the drawer by my bed and pulled out the only thing that brought smiles to my face every day, a picture of my two month old self in my father's arms.

Everyday was a gloomy morning out here, but that wiped the tears that were dried in my eyes, from every night I cried myself to sleep. His smile warmed my heart everyday and gave me hope to pull through the challenges of each day.

I longed for the day I would see him smile like that at me again. I lived everyday with the hope that one day, I would make him happy with me again.

“You do not get to lay uselessly in bed all day, Blair!” came father's thick, hoarse voice, as he forcefully pushed the door open.

“Get out of bed, now!” Mother added. “The chores are not going to do themselves,” she pulled me by the hand out of bed. “Especially not today that we have guests coming,”

Off I went, without the time to brush my teeth, take a bath or even change my night wear.

“Not a spec!” Mother said, “I need this house to sparkle by noon,” she added, handing me a toothbrush and pointing at the floor. It was my toothbrush, the fifth one this week.

I had to clean the floors with it and proceed to use them on my teeth in my mother's presence.

It was a big house, having six bedrooms and two sitting rooms. The dining room was also as large as the kitchen and all tiled in white.

Although we were rich and had lots of domestic staff, it was my duty to keep everywhere spotless. Mother says, “I wouldn't get lazy under her watch,”

The maids lived a more luxurious life than I did, since they only got to make meals and got busier when my parents had their monthly dinners with their business associates.

“Hurry that up, your father wants to talk to you,” Mother returned to announce, two hours into cleaning.

I was sweating profusely, but my face was more soaked in my tears than it was in my sweat. This was now a routine for me, but I couldn't get used to the pain, even though I had been doing this for the last ten years now.

On my eighth birthday, my mother woke me up with my toothbrush, but not to shower or get ready for school, but to clean my room and ever since then, my life changed.

I barely made it through high school and my grades never slacked because father would never condone it, and even though I had to scrub the floors all night before school the next day, I was still an A student, hoping to make my parents proud, but that was never enough. Nothing was.

Four hours later, I hurriedly went to my father's room, where he demanded my presence.

“I’m here father, you sent for me,” I said, bowing my head,

“Yes, four hours ago,” he responded angrily. Father was constantly angry and you'd think after all these years I would have gotten used to it, but the only thing I had on my mind whenever I saw him was that man smiling down at me and holding me in his arms.

I knew there was still love in his heart somewhere for me, there had to be some love left in their hearts for me. I wasn't sure what I did wrong, but I was willing to obey all my parents’ rules until I gained their love back.

“I'm…sorry, father,” I stammered.

“A few months ago you turned nineteen, which is one year above your legal age to live here,” father said, walking from the window, where he stood and to the couch, at the other end of his large, luxurious room.

“Your mother and I think it's about time you left this house,” he said.