The Billionaire’s Regret: Chasing His Ex wife

Amelia 

“Give me a son,” Lachlan growled into my ear as his hips pistoned harder, driving his hardness deeper into me. 

I cried out in both anguish and pleasure as my body climbed higher and higher and finally reached the crevice. 

“Oh God,” I moaned, my nails digging into his back as I clung to him with all my might. 

I came with a choked sob and Lachlan followed a moment later, gritting out his daily mantra into my ear as he came. 

“Give me a son.” 

I had heard those words everyday of my life for the past three years and I was sick of it. Every time, I swore to myself that I’d be stronger and the words wouldn’t affect me, but I failed each and every time. 

Just like now, I could feel one more crack in my heart as the man I loved; the man I was hopelessly in love with; my husband, with jerked away from my body like I was contagious, shot me an acidic look and stomped off to his room. 

My husband and I hadn’t shared a bed for more than sex since our marriage three years ago. In fact, I was little more than walking reproductive organs to him. 

All he wanted and all he would ever want from me is an heir to the massive Mallory empire, after which I’d be discarded as effectively as used tissue. 

Not for the first time in my life, I turned my face into my pillow and wept, the pleasure of my orgasm washing away just as quickly as it had come. 

I didn’t hear the door open, but I felt my husband’s presence in the room. I snapped my head up from the bed to stare at him through wet eyes. He only had on a towel knotted around his waist. 

Lachlan Mallory, my husband was a stunning man. I could still remember my elation when he had asked me to marry him. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world and I had been the envy of all my friends back then. 

My husband was over six feet tall with a full head of dark brown hair that was at the moment sexily mussed up from our bed activities. He had intense dark brown eyes and finely shaped dark brows over it, high cheekbones, a full pink mouth and a sharp jawline. 

His body was also a work of art, with his broad shoulders, muscled build and visible row of abs. It was enough to make my mouth water, but I resisted the urge to gape at him because he would only use it to mock me. 

“W-what are you doing here?” I asked in a small and timid voice. 

After years of being abused by my step mother and now my husband, I felt weak and extremely vulnerable. Even though Lachlan would never go as far as to lay his hands on me, I knew he hated me and it was obvious everytime he looked at me and spoke to me.

He laughed mockingly, "It is my house. I have a right to be anywhere I want, or don’t I?”

“Of course you do,” I said hurriedly, “I never meant to insinuate otherwise, I mean I-“ 

“Shut the hell up!” He snapped, “I’m tired of hearing your whiny, pathetic voice.” 

I dropped my head in humiliation. 

“Get dressed, my family has invited you and I for dinner.” 

Lachlan was always careful never to use the word “us” while talking. He wanted to make it very clear that there was no us. My stomach rolled uncomfortably. 

I hated dinners with his family because his mother was a carbon copy of my step mother. 

“I have to s-skip,” I stammered, “You were a little rough and I’m really sore.”

He sneered at me in irritation, “Don’t pretend that you don’t love all the things I do to you in bed. After all, you never fail to orgasm.” 

I felt heat rise to my face, because he wasn’t lying. No matter how cruel he was, no matter all the demeaning words he tried to use to humiliate me, I still ended up enjoying sex with my husband and coming every single time, “Th-that’s not what I’m s-saying at-“ 

“Your damn stammering is pissing me off. You are so pathetic that you can’t even face me and speak.” He said with derision, “How did I end up with such a useless woman.” 

A fresh set of tears filled my eyes and on seeing it, he only rolled his eyes, “The only thing you know how to do is cry. You can’t even do the most basic thing that every woman can do effortlessly. All I want from you is a son, but I guess that’s asking too much from a worthless piece of trash like you.” 

“Stop being so mean. I never did anything to deserve this. Any of this!” I cry out, “All I’ve ever done is to make the best out of a bad situation. I’m trying my best.”

“Your best is simply not good enough,” he slashed a hand through the air, “I am sick of talking to you. I am sick of looking at you even. Get dressed and be ready and waiting at the foyer in fifteen minutes. If you make me wait, you’ll walk there. Don’t test me, Amelia.”

With those spat-out words, he walked out of the room, leaving me shaking and miserable as was my usual.

Feeling nauseous, I stood up on shaky legs and rushed to the bathroom, managing to make it to the toilet bowl before all the food I had eaten earlier came rushing back up and out of my throat. 

I felt so sick and horrible, but I knew I couldn’t test Lachlan by disobeying him. This was not a marriage, this was a prison. I had gone from being my stepmother’s prisoner to being my husband’s. 

Crawling out of the bathroom, I opened the secret compartment of my dresser and pulled out a sheet of paper. 

A sheet of paper that was the key to my freedom.