Billionaire's Broken Trust

NATALIE

It was Saturday evening. I finished cooking dinner in the kitchen and stepped into the dining room to serve it. However, I saw that my half-sister, Amelia Jackson, had arrived.

I watched my husband, Franklin Howard, laughing so hard with Amelia in the living room.

What pained me the most was seeing the way he got along with her. Franklin had never laughed like this with me, yet here he was, laughing happily with my older sister.

Amelia Jackson and I have the same father but different mothers. My mother was a mistress to my father, and because I was the unwanted child, my family didn't like me. I had three older brothers—James, Asher, and Felix—who all doted on Amelia.

Amelia and I were age mates, but she was a month older than me, making her my elder sister. We were both fair in complexion, but while she was tall, I was short and chubby.

Franklin is a billionaire in this part of the city, and he never liked me, his wife.

Our marriage was all a mistake—one I shouldn't have accepted.

Three years ago, my father and Franklin's father were best friends. My father hosted a business party at home and invited many tycoons. One thing led to another, and Franklin and I were caught in my room.

I knew Amelia was the one who set us up, but no one believed me. Even Franklin didn't. He felt I was the one who drugged him and lured him to my room to sleep with him.

We were forced to become a couple to hide the embarrassment, as Franklin's family was deeply disappointed.

Everyone knew I was the illegitimate daughter, and they wondered why my father had kept me all this time instead of kicking me out and allowing Amelia to marry Franklin.

It was after my wedding that I discovered Amelia had a hidden crush on Franklin. She regretted drugging my drink, which was what I had served Franklin when he came to speak to me on that eventful night.

Many guests had come with their adult children, but none of them spoke to me. I was 22 years old then—naive, and caught in a compromising position on my bed with Franklin.

We got married while Amelia wept, claiming Franklin was supposed to be her husband.

Franklin didn't like me. After that night, we didn't sleep with each other, and I never conceived, even though it had been my first time. We lived like neighbors who hated each other, and now that Amelia had graduated, Franklin wanted to divorce me to marry her.

How shameless of a sister to want to date her younger sister's husband! Amelia is so shameless. Franklin is five years older than me; I am 25 now, and he is 30.

I watched Franklin. He wore a white singlet that revealed the masculine abs as he loved working out for. He was fair-complexioned and more handsome than any other man I had seen. His skin glittered like the sun, and I could see the way Amelia gawked over him.

Franklin is tall, with big arms and thighs. I don't even reach his chest—to tell you the truth, I'm a shorty, although I have an hourglass shape. Franklin doesn't find me attractive in any way.

"How were your studies, Amy?" I heard Franklin ask. He had switched from calling her Amelia to her short nickname, Amy.

Amelia blushed as she picked up the glass cup of red wine Franklin had refilled while I sat at the dining table setting up dinner.

We have no maid at home, simply because Franklin mandated that I shouldn't go to work since I don't have a meaningful certificate.

As an illegitimate child, I didn't further my education; I was forced by my stepmother to learn tailoring while Amelia went to the university and became a certified accountant. I wasn't even allowed to sew, because Franklin felt fashion design was a useless profession.

Franklin calls me ugly and says I am not fashionable. He doesn't like to take me out to hang with his friends, nor does he give me upkeep money. I only manage to save money for my personal use when he gives me funds to restock the house with foodstuffs.

"It was fine, Frankie," Amelia replied. I hated that she and my husband were calling each other pet names.

This was my matrimonial home, yet Franklin only called me "Natalie!" In short, he shouted my name with so much rage, as if he didn't even want to see me.

"Natalie! Is dinner ready?" Franklin asked me, just as he settled across from Amelia on the next black couch in our exquisite living room.

I was through preparing the delicious African delicacy of pounded yam and vegetable soup. I looked at the food I had prepared, then at my husband and my half-sister.

"Natalie! I am talking to you!" Franklin shouted at me again.

"Hmm, no food for either of you," I replied, covering the food I had already served.

Firstly, I didn't invite Amelia to my home, nor was I going to serve her any food. She should get out, return to our father's house, and look for her own husband to call pet names.

Franklin immediately rose from the couch and dashed up to meet me.

"Where are you taking that tray of food? Have you lost your mind?" Franklin slapped me as he approached, seizing the tray from my hands.

I looked at him irritably, seeing Amelia smiled and rolled her eyes. I knew her goal: she wanted to take my husband. She had sent me a text message the previous month, telling me she was coming back to collect everything I had stolen from her, including my husband.

"Franklin, you slapped me because of what? I cooked this food, and you cannot eat it!"

"Why? Did I not give you the money you used to prepare the meal? Did you work for it? Move away, get me a bowl of water to wash my hands, and don't think I'll apologize for the slap. Come, Amy, don't mind your sister. That's how silly she behaves," Franklin called out to her.

I watched as Amelia seductively stood up from the couch in a brown dress that made her look like a model. The brown dress accentuated her hips and bosom.

Amelia walked up to the dining table, and I stood there watching Franklin serve her the delicious plate of pounded yam and vegetable soup that I had labored to cook.

I knew Amelia was my sister and that I wasn't supposed to be jealous, but Franklin had never served me food before—not to mention food I had cooked myself.

Noticing I hadn't brought a bowl of water, Franklin went to the kitchen himself and brought one out for Amelia to wash her hands. He sat across from her while she blushed, not bothering to ask me to join them.

"Franklin!" I shouted, walking toward the plate of soup I had served for myself—the very portion Franklin had handed to Amelia.

"What's wrong with you, Natalie? Should we leave this food for you to eat? Come, Amy, let's go out to get something more palatable," Franklin said, standing up from the dining table. I hated it whenever I suffered to cook only for my husband to leave our matrimonial home to eat elsewhere.

"Franklin!" I tried to stop him, but he warned me.

"Stay away from me, Natalie. Just go and eat your food since you don't want your sister and me to eat it. Who knows if you've poisoned it?"

"What?!..." I frowned as Franklin's words broke my heart. He quickly took the stairs in our living room and dashed up to his bedroom.

Yes, Franklin and I have separate bedrooms.

I turned back to Amelia and shouted, "You shameless slut, aren't you ashamed to be dating your sister's husband? As beautiful as you are, can't you use your beauty to look for your own husband?" I cussed at her, and she merely hissed.

"Get out of my house!" I felt enraged, remembering that Amelia and her brothers had never liked me. They mostly maltreated me, and while I had thought getting married would bring me happiness and a family of my own, this very same family still wouldn't let me be.

As I rushed forward to push Amelia out of the house, she fell to the ground and pretended to be hurt.