Chapter One
Some days, it all became too much for Henry to deal with. By all means, he shouldn't have felt the way he did about his life. There should have been little cause for him to complain given what a lucky man he really was on so many levels. Yet he found himself, against all odds, finding ample opportunity to complain all the same. It had felt like ages since he'd derived any true happiness from his life or his circumstances, and although most men would have killed to be in his position, he found himself largely envying others the ability to live a happier, simpler life.
He'd been poor growing up. Very poor. Everything he now had, he'd worked for, broken his back and sweated for, and in that sense, at least, he could feel some degree of pride in his accomplishments. Starting from scratch, basically, he'd managed to build up something of an empire out of thin air. Through the sweat on his brow, the intensity of his efforts, and a dedication to securing his future, his lot in life had improved dramatically.
It hadn't been easy. Every step of the way there had been obstacles. People tried their damnedest to tell him that what he was trying to accomplish was impossible. But he'd done it anyway and proved them all wrong. He’d built up a staggering fortune, established a number of successful businesses, and had made his name known.
Gradually, his empire had risen to sublime heights, overshadowing even his own meager expectations for what he might accomplish in this life; and all before he reached the age of forty.
How different his life was now compared to what it had been when he was growing up. He could never have imagined that one day, he would be living in a vast, sprawling mansion on a private slice of land that was as green and as wonderful as anything he’d ever seen. His garage was be packed with multiple luxury vehicles; most of them more trophies than anything he actually used, given that a chauffeur frequently brought him from one location to another throughout the course of his busy days. He never would have guessed that he would end up married to a supermodel some thirteen years his junior, an absolutely stunning blonde bombshell who graced the covers of magazines. Nor had he envisioned himself ever being able to purchase for her such an expensive diamond ring, of the finest cut and color. But perhaps least of all, Henry had never expected that all of this- the vast mansion, the fleet of vehicles, the trophy wife, and his fortune in general- would leave him feeling drained and empty, wholly unfulfilled and questioning as to why the hell he'd ever wanted this all to begin with.
It seemed so irrational to him, and he knew that feeling this way was crazy. It was ungrateful of him not to appreciate how very, very lucky he'd gotten in this golden land of opportunity. Try as he may, however, he seemed incapable of convincing himself that all that glittered was gold. There seemed to be something of the utmost significance missing from his life. As a billionaire, he should reasonably have been able to acquire whatever his heart desired in the service of self-gratification, and the fact that he seemed unable to satisfy himself despite his resources seemed absurd to say the least.
Still, he felt so stifled by everything in his life. He was so embroiled in business affairs at the moment, involved in so many delicate deals and trades; some of which had involved his own personal assets and assumed a relatively dangerous risk. His days were packed with activity from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning, to the moment his head hit the pillow again at night. By the time the day was over, he frequently felt bone-weary , but the amount of sleep allotted to him during these hyperactive days seemed to be growing more and more scarce. Even when he had the free hours with which to refresh himself, sleep seemed to elude him entirely, tormenting him.
What was more, his wife, the woman any man would have loved to be able to claim as his mate, had gradually become yet another bane of his existence. Her personality was not at all of a corresponding attractiveness to her physical appearance, and he was gradually coming to see that more and more as the years spent with her rolled along.
When they’d first met, she had seemed as sweet as honey in every way. He'd met her at one of her shows, after he'd watched her traipse along majestically down the catwalk, strutting her hypnotic feminine assets, making him drool for her. Her very appearance had had an effect upon him that was intoxicating, and it brought down his guard. Normally, he was so in control, so composed, and he never let anyone strike him so deeply to his emotional core as this woman seemed to do.
Yet somehow, she'd managed the impossible, seducing him out of his good sense, and without even seeming to try in the process. It had all seemed so effortless on her part, and he'd allowed himself to fall so easily into her snare, regardless of whether or not its setting had been intentional on her part. He'd kept thinking, all throughout the course of her showcasing her finery on the runway, that her eyes were looking directly into him out there in the audience. Rationally, he'd known, this was very unlikely. The stage was over-lit to the point of blinding the models, and the audience was bathed in shadow, so that picking out individual faces should have proved impossible.
But that didn't at all stop him from fantasizing, from believing what he wanted to believe, or from allowing himself to be fooled, to be swept up in those eyes. The characteristics that made him a smart businessman and a successful human being, all flushed down the drain.
Through some effort, he'd managed to make Ashley's acquaintance through some mutual connections at an after party following the show. He'd been even more taken in by her in person than he had watching from afar, her every movement fascinating to him, and her demeanor one that evoked sheer, sweet innocence. She had the most charming accent, one which made her voice seem almost excessively warm and friendly, and the way she seemed to eat out of his hand was gratifying, to say the least. She had laughed delightedly at anything and everything that happened to pass from his lips, stared intensely into his eyes as he spoke. She flirted shamelessly- pushing her breasts together in a way that tempted him fiercely to gawk down into her cleavage, letting her leg graze gently up against him beneath the table. She had quite literally made him sweat. And Henry didn’t sweat.
In all likelihood, his reputation had preceded him, and she had known damn well what his station was in life. What girl of her type wouldn't try to present herself as especially cozy and romantic in the presence of a well-known billionaire, particularly when that billionaire seemed to express as much unmistakable interest in her as Henry was shamelessly doing? Hell, for that matter, there was even a nagging voice in the back of his mind that tended to speculate as to the question of whether she presented this same self to any affluent man who showered her with such attention. Surely, he couldn't be unique in that regard, and by now she'd become so accustomed to putting on this act that it appeared seamless to all those who had yet to witness it firsthand.
Still though, as the two of them drank and laughed and flirted away the evening, the connection they seemed to forge ran deep enough that he managed to overlook these creeping suspicions. For the first time in his life, he'd fallen deeply, head over heels in love, and he didn't give a damn about his own bravado, which was his usual resistance to temptation.
He took her home that night after drinks, and they proceeded to engage in some of the most mind-blowing, excruciatingly beautiful sex he had ever before had the pleasure of experiencing. Though it was true that he was a man of significant clout, and could reasonably share his bed with whatever beautiful specimen he set his heart upon, Ashley had been one of the few women to genuinely penetrate his defenses, bringing him to a level that was beyond even his own fantasies. She'd released some brutal, carnal beast inside him, and shown him a whole new dimension to his personality in the bedroom that he'd not even known to look for in the past.
Further and further, he allowed himself to fall into his obsession for this woman, the one person in the world who had ever had such an effect on him, who could possibly make him forget about his troubles and feel at ease with the many difficulties of his day to day life.
A few months passed, and he became further embroiled in her charms. The facade of her sweetness never seemed to fail, and even if it had at any point, Henry would have been too willing to overlook any potential flaws to care. It was sudden, he supposed, but there was no doubt in his mind that his feelings for her were genuine and sincere.
And so it was that he found his way down onto one knee, proposing so shortly after their initial meeting, and Ashley broke down crying tears of happiness, accepting his offer of marriage in a heartbeat, and dabbing well-practiced tears from her eyes.
The wedding and the honeymoon, had been some of the happiest days of his life, and he could never recall a time when he'd been more satisfied or at peace with himself and his accomplishments.
It had taken several months before he first started seeing things slipping into disarray.
It had all started out small at first. There had seemed to be a sort of tension in the air, awkward and unpleasant, but without solid shape or mass. He supposed that it was probably nothing. He was coming down off of that first exquisite high, and settling into the routine of married life. It was wholly to be expected that he would someday have to come back down to Earth, and it was unrealistic of him to think that every day spent with Ashley could be a fairy tale.
But the days that were down didn't seem to have their corresponding ups as he might have expected, and this began to worry him. Ashley gradually began to pay less and less attention to him. She became so caught up in her own affairs, and as seemingly fascinated with Henry and his life as she'd been when they first met, she now seemed not to give a damn what was going on with him, so long as it didn't affect the steady flow of his income into her purse.
There were times when the old sweetness still showed through, but Henry had begun to detect its true thinness. She was proving herself far less capable of fooling him than she'd ever done in the past. Perhaps, before, she'd been constantly sweet because the thing she'd wanted had been more complete in nature- she'd wanted Henry himself, the complete and total man.
Now, from her perspective, she had him under her thumb, and needed only to exercise that old sense of sweetness when she wanted something more tangible. She would give him a blowjob when she wanted money for something expensive, or treat him with extra syrupy kindness whenever it seemed clear to hear that he was beginning to lose his patience with her bullshit.
Henry had gained the ability to read her and her actions like a book. The rational part of his mind now knew that this was all a matter of manipulation and playing his emotions to her personal advantage. And had he exercised the same pragmatic sense that had allowed the amassing of a billion-dollar fortune, he may have been capable of putting an end to it. He may have called off such an emotionally abusive relationship, and come away from it all with his life mostly intact.
But this was a matter entirely too personal for him to be able to divorce his emotions from the delicacy of the situation. He was just too involved in it to let Ashley go so easily. Deep down, he desperately yearned for the version of her that had pretended to love him early on in the relationship. He succeeded in fooling himself, to some extent at least, into believing that those old, happy days might someday experience a welcome and long overdue resurgence.
And so, he remained trapped in that loveless life with Ashley, dreading each and every day spent with her. Her very presence, at times, seemed to overwhelm him with negative emotions. All the fighting, the bickering, the scarcely concealed infidelities, and the manipulation to get what she wanted out of him, seemed too much for him to withstand. And that was on top of all the other bullshit he had to deal with throughout the course of any day.
He just couldn't stand it anymore, and yet he felt as though he had no recourse. There was no one for him there should Ashley step out the door for good. She had majorly fucked with his brain, convincing him that the only thing anyone could be interested in him for was his money, and making him believe that he could no longer trust anyone outside of herself. And he knew he couldn’t really trust her. Not anymore.
As much as he may have begrudged Ashley, and as miserable as her company frequently made him, what would he have left without her? The answer, he felt confidently, was next to nothing, and that was simply not a sacrifice he felt at all willing to make.
So he continued to live his life in its miserable and hollow state, devoid of real joy or happiness. It was simply an exercise in endurance, waiting for something amazing to happen.
And then one day, it did.
It came in the most unexpected of ways, and left him stunned, and hopeful for the first time in as long as he could remember.
Her name was Megan.