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What is Better than a Wife? (Part I)

She leaned against the marble counter top, hand absently rubbing her swollen belly, while she looked out over the beautifully decorated mansion she needed to say goodbye to. Seven months pregnant, with no money to go and no right to stay: He had given her ‘till Saturday to move out.

Seven years ago, when she met him at her property showing it was more fairy tale than true love. He was older, handsome, and wealthy. He owned his own business and was looking to purchase the quaint beach cottage for a vacation home and rental, his third on the East Coast alone. He boasted, in a charming way, about his accomplishments and intelligence. She was enamored.

He put in a cash offer on her listing and then promptly asked her to dinner. Five months of long distance dating was heavily peppered with spontaneous weekend trips to the Carribean, private jet flights to New York City just for dinner, charity galas and sporting events. He was fun and generous, and required a lot of attention. Being his girlfriend was nearly a full-time job.

Almost a year of flitting around and accompanying him while trying to make her small real estate practice thrive was too much; something had to give. And when he offered to relocate her to his primary home so she could live and love him while he took care of her – it was an easy choice. She packed up and moved; first, to the bachelor style penthouse in an all glass skyscraper, and then to the dream home she help design and build from the ground up.

While he never proposed, he’d gifted her a ring – and to all his friends, she was already his; she was better than a wife.

Her musings continued as she looks down at the evidence of their child … better than a wife. A mother.

She’d never gotten her real estate license here, she hadn’t needed to – he provided everything and more. Her car in the garage, the watch on her wrist, the groceries in the pantry, the clothes on her back. The housekeeper managed the home, his assistant managed his calendar, and he’d joke that she managed his happiness.

When she became pregnant, though, she got demoted – quickly. Then abruptly fired. She still didn’t know if it was the sudden changes in her appearance or the upcoming changes to her priorities, but she did know a car seat wouldn’t fit in his luxury sports car and his brand new girlfriend wore a size 2.

Within a span of a few months, she had nothing but a baby boy on the way.

The eight bedroom mansion with her custom closet – was his. The car she drove – his. The debit card she used – his. The phone in her hand – his. Even their friends were his. She sold or left everything that was her life behind those seven years ago…

Her phone dinged in her hand with a reminder: Attorney Consult at 2:00 p.m. Grabbing the keys to his car and the purse he bought, she left his mansion to get some answers:

Seven months pregnant, with no money to go and no right to stay? We’ll just see about that!

Jess Lill

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