Page 4 of Billionaire Hunt

He frowned at me and shook his head as if he felt sorry for me. “I should have known better than to expect you to handle this maturely.”

My fists tightened. Now I wish I had tossed him out of the window with his clothes.

“And I’m not leaving...you’re the one who’s leaving.”

“What?” I was shocked. “This is my home and you have no right to make me leave.”

“Do I have to call the authorities?”

“I dare you.”

“You already have a record,” he warned.

“For public nudity!” I had been a little bit wild in college to say the least.

“Still...let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.”

“What the---” I stopped abruptly as he reached for his cell phone and began dialing.

“Oh my god, are you seriously calling 911?”

He looked at me annoyed. “What do you think I am? Some sort of monster? I’m clearly calling the non-emergency number.” God, I hated how he was still capable of being perfectly reasonable while I, on the other hand, was barely dealing with the fact that my world was falling apart.

I slapped the phone out of his hand and it went flying under our dresser.

I scrambled for it and while reaching for it I found a pair of bright pink panties. Panties that weren’t my own.

I slowly stood up and extended the panties in front of me. “You brought her here?” My voice was now shaking and I realized my hands were shaking too.

“I’m not going to answer that,” he said tightly and suddenly everything I felt for him, everything I thought I felt for him began to change. He seemed smaller to me, less of a man. But my anger didn’t dissipate. Oh no, I was just getting started.

“You’re leaving now.”

“I already told you--”

He stopped abruptly as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began scrolling through my contacts list looking for a number.

“Who are you calling?”

“Uncle Niko,” I said casually.

“Wwwwwwhat?” Wyatt stuttered. “Put down the phone. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Found it...dialing...” I said, putting the phone up to my ear.

“You’re joking...right? You wouldn’t. Fine! Fine! I’ll leave!” he shouted, getting visibly upset. I hung up and said, “I thought you would.”

Without a parting word, he turned on his heels and walked out of the bedroom. A minute later I heard the front door slam and I took a deep breath and lowered myself onto the bench that sat in front of our bed.

Our bed...I thought bitterly to myself. I wondered how many times he had defiled it. Now I wondered who the other woman was. All the fight in me was gone. I felt a tear slip down my cheek and wiped it away. I dared any other tears to fall. I wasn’t a crier. I never had been and I wasn’t planning to start now.

My marriage was over. My career was over. The life I had spent the past eight years building was gone. I stood up and realized I still had the panties in my hand. I tossed them out of the window and watched them hit the ground, falling on top of the rest of Wyatt’s things.

And then I found another bottle of wine, sat on the couch and drank straight out of the bottle.

I took a few more sips and thought to myself, “Well, Misha, you’ve hit rock bottom...there’s nothing but up from here.”

And I prayed to whatever saint handled miracles, as I closed my eyes, that I would catch a break at least for the night. I was done for the day. A philandering husband. A baby by someone else. A business gone. Life was kicking my butt and today I was all out of fight. I picked up the wine bottle, grabbed my phone and made my way to the guest room determined to drown my troubles, at least for tonight, in a bottle of wine.