Mommy, Is The President Our Daddy? The Ex-Wife’s Revenge

Zendaya’s POV

If pathetic and miserable were a person then there’d be no perfect comparison to those words, as myself.

My life was the perfect description of them. I stared out the transparent glass of my office, watching everyone mingle with themselves, laughing and cheering each other.

Here I am, brooding over my sad and lonely life. I thought it was said that life is hard and tough for the ugly, but I was nowhere near any of that. No hard feelings to anyone, but I am an epitome of beauty. An hourglass shaped body any man would die for, and would undoubtedly make some ladies really jealous.

There’s my mesmerizing emerald eyes and high cheekbones, hard to come by. 5 feet 8 tall, full, luscious lips and a symmetrical face. Definitely, I am a complete charm. But, my parents turned out to be the perfect obstacle sent to ruin my perfectly, outlined world.

Everything spiralled the very day I was made to enter into a contract marriage with Asher Smith.

When I first met him, he was running for the presidential post in the country. He got appointed a president afew days after the marriage, where he won the election.

One would think I would have it all, having a solid career as a lawyer and getting married to the number one citizen of the country– the president. That should at least come with a whole lot of nice things. However, my case appears different.

Leaning further into the chair, I twirled it around with my eyes closed. Still trying to brood, but my belly clearly has other plans for me. It growled loudly.

This is the part of my day at work that I hated so much; having lunch. No one seem to want to be my friend or have anything to do with me at work. If I wasn’t so bad at making lunch so early on my way to work. I would have chosen to make my own meals and eat here in my office.

Even if that was the case, there was still a need for me to eat in the break room with every other person. It never gets better.

Sighing into resolve, i tapped on my phone for my daily order. They were just on time, as I heard the knock on the door.

“Here is your order ma’am.” The delivery boy smiled at me. He seems to be the only one oblivious to my predicament.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

“You are always on time. Thank you so much.” I mumbled sincerely. Searching my bag, I handed him a tip for being so amazing.

Dragging my swollen feet for having sat for too long, I squared my shoulders as I walked out of the office, down to the break room. Maybe I should have waited a bit longer, that would have left me all alone In the room with no disturbance.

Three young ladies who are clearly trainees and should accord me some respect, being a senior associate and all. But, like every other uncouth person in the firm, they had their nose turned up towards me.

‘Breath, Zendaya.’

It’s my daily mantra to prevent myself from actually going nuts and beating the shit out of whomever crosses my path. Funny thing is; it’s just a thought I have in my mind every passing day just to feel alive.

Terrific!

Settling into the table with my back turned to them. I inhaled the heavenly smell of the fresh burger and chips. My belly rumbled in approval.

‘Yes baby, we are about to get some.’ I patted my belly.

“I heard he sleeps around with no remorse!” One of the girls who actually thinks she is whispering– or was speaking so loudly on purpose, said to the others.

These silly girls are gossiping about me when I am just a few feets away from them. For goodness sake, who the hell brought up these people?

Fine! I don’t want to listen, I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t help it, even if I wanted to.

Another responded In a lower voice this time. “Who would have thought someone as good looking as herself would be at the receiving end of such treatment?”

They stayed silent and I could feel their eyes on me now, pretending not to hear a thing they said. I kept on with my food, their receding footsteps sounded like music to my ears. They were right about everything and it hurts so bad. At least, they were cautious enough to not say it to my face like my other colleagues do.

Just when I thought the torment was over, some other people passed by my table and I was sure they didn’t even realize I was in the room right now, or they did, but chose to act oblivious.

They were all whispering between themselves. There’s no doubt it’s me they were talking about; words have it that my entire life happenings were juicy contents for gossip.

“I feel so much pity for Zendaya. Do you think he beats her?” One of them, whose voice sounded like she was being choked, said.

The first one who seemed to have started the gossip, responded, “Of course, he definitely beats her. But what woman stays put in a place she isn’t loved. I can bet it with you; it’s all for his money.”

“He sure has money, no doubt.” Said another as they giggled lightly. “Her life is such a pain, and a joke. I would never wish for such misery in my life.”

When they finally walked away, I let out a relieved breath that I didn’t even realize I was holding.

Everytime I remember that son of a gun named Asher whom I was in a contract marriage with, my insides boil so hard, I think I might explode. He is the reason I have become a laughing stock in the whole city. I can’t even remember the time I’ve ever had an actual conversation with my supposed husband.

The only time we’ve exchanged a few words together, was when we had an official gathering that required my presence, whereby we were both required to put up a faux font for the public image.

It’s how he makes me hate my life so much. If I had my way, I would throw a divorce paper in his face and move on without hesitation.

But, as always for a bad written fate like mine, there is a clause.

When my parents made me sign the marriage contract, it was more on a forced will. My own parents thought it right to threaten to cut me off my inheritance and erase my name from the will if I refuse to oblige.

The tears were falling now. My life really was pathetic! I’ve been trying to keep them at bay, but every time I remember what would become of me if I decide to fight for my freedom, I feel empty.

And it’s all Asher’s fault.

The humiliation would have been kept minimal if he isn’t such a man whore. That bastard sleeps with anything in a skirt that spreads. I’ve never met someone so shameless in my entire life.

As a leader, he is a terrible example to follow. Anyone who has Asher as his or her mentor definitely needs their head checked. I really can’t keep up with this continuous embarassment, my life almost has no meaning anymore. My name is always attached to him and there is nothing I can do to it.

On the other hand, there is definitely something that I can do. And that is to tell him off his horrible lifestyle. Taking a deep breath, even though I hate to do this, I trashed the rest of my meal.

Asher would have no choice but to listen to me today. That man can’t have me under his nails. I also have a goddamn life to live.