The Unwanted Wife(10)

By: Natasha Anders

“That’s so sick,” she protested. “Why would you even want a child with a woman you despise?” He didn’t respond, instead he sent an odd probing little look over her strained face.

“You honestly don’t know, do you?” he breathed in disbelief and she blinked in confusion.

“Know what?” She asked blankly, distracted by the rapt look on his face. Again he didn’t reply. “Know what?”

“Why did you marry me?” He asked suddenly.

“You know why…” she was outraged by the way he was rubbing salt in the wound unable to believe, even after a year and a half of similar treatment, that he could be so cruel.

“Humour me,” he prompted and she exhaled shakily, before getting up with as much dignity as she could muster. She felt shaky and nauseous and couldn’t stomach being around him anymore. She took an unsteady step away from the table, swaying so badly that he jumped up and clasped one large hand around her slender arm to steady her.

“Theresa?” He sounded almost shaken.

“I’m fine,” she shrugged off his hand. “I just got up too quickly. Now please excuse me, I have things to do!”

“Wait…” he said urgently. “I asked you a question.”

“A stupid question that you already know the answer to,” she retorted.

“Maybe I’d like to hear the answer again,” he was being a total ass about this and not for the first time in her life, Theresa felt like hitting him.

“Oh, God, why do you insist on doing this?” She groaned.

“You really loved me, didn’t you?” He breathed in amazement and she shot him a haunted look before turning away.

“You may rest assured that whatever I felt for you a year ago is no longer an issue. I want a divorce, nothing you do or say can induce me to stay with you…” she insisted and he surprised her by nodding thoughtfully.

“Yes. I’m beginning to realise that,” he acknowledged softly. There was nothing more to be said and she left the room with her head held high and her dignity intact.

She was a mass of nerves when she finally got to the bedroom and sank down on the bed, feeling quivery and still vaguely nauseous. She felt like she had just gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer but she also felt like he had actually listened to her and that she had made some headway. Feeling like she needed to speak to someone about what had just happened, she picked up the telephone receiver from its cradle on the nightstand but she was taken aback to hear ringing on the other end. Realising that Sandro was on the extension downstairs she was about to put the phone down when the ringing stopped abruptly.

“Jackson Noble,” her father’s voice snapped into her ear and her eyes widened in shock. Sandro and her father did not get along and she was surprised to realise that Sandro had actually willingly called the older man. More than a little curious, she hesitated before replacing the receiver but that brief hesitation proved to be enough to keep her riveted to the phone.

“Your daughter wants a divorce,” was his opening sally and Theresa’s fingers tightened around the phone.

“What are you talking about? Divorce is not an option and you know that!” Her father astounded her by responding.

“Yes,” Sandro’s voice was dryer than the desert in summer. “I know that but it appears that she does not. You didn’t tell her about our agreement?” What agreement?

“Of course not,” Jackson Noble III scoffed contemptuously. “She would never have married you if I had… the little twit fancied herself in love with you!” Her father laughed harshly and Theresa winced. Her free arm wrapped around her midriff as she tried to keep her nausea at bay. Sandro did not react to her father’s last statement.

“I thought she knew… that she’d gone into this marriage consenting to sell herself for the sake of your sadistic little contract. Daddy’s good little girl to the very end!” He finally said after a long pause.

“Would it have changed your mind if you’d known you were marrying a naïve little fool, who thought you epitomized her every dream come true?”

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