OPEN TO BILLIONAIRES

ONYINYE

That was my husband standing right there, and there was another woman by his side, smiling as if she had just won a prize.

At first, they tried to hide the connection from me. They really did. But damn it, I am too smart not to understand the chemistry between two lovebirds. The way her shoulder brushed against his arm, the quick, secret glances, the shared breath between words, it was all right there in the open.

I wasn't hurt so much as I was utterly surprised. I was surprised because he was smiling.

In the early days, Ogbonna wasn't always this cold. The first two years of our marriage were actually sweet. He used to laugh, bring me flowers, and hold me close at night. But everything shattered when I gave birth to our daughter, Somma. When the doctors diagnosed her with severe autism and motor skill delays, Ogbonna completely changed. Somma couldn't walk or stand properly on her own, requiring constant physical support, and Ogbonna viewed her condition as a personal insult to his pride.

He began to withdraw, stopped smiling, moved out of our bedroom, and made it brutally clear that he hated any reminder of her health. He reserved his face for solemn expressions, heavy brows, and stern, sharp orders. Yet now, I stood frozen, watching in total shock as he laughed at every simple joke this teenager made, his chest expanding with genuine amusement.

Today was Somma’s fifth birthday. The backyard was filled with colorful balloons, soft music, and the delicious aroma of roasted meat and party rice. But instead of standing beside me to host our guests, my husband was standing with a teenager.

It was Nnenna, the girl next door.

She was dressed in clothes clearly chosen to make her look a bit more mature, a fitted silk dress that clung to her small frame, but how mature can an eighteen-year-old really look in any dress? Her bright red hair was messy, stray strands falling across her neck. Well, she was still young and careless, and I suppose the messiness was acceptable considering her age.

My husband, on the other hand, was thirty-five. He was handsome, tall, and huge. Standing next to her, he looked like a towering oak tree beside a newly sprouted weed.

Guests and neighbors kept looking back and forth between them and me. Their faces were twisted in confusion and awkward disbelief. They couldn't understand why I was standing alone near the drinks station while another woman occupied the space right beside my husband on our daughter’s big day.

“Is everything okay, Onyinye?” a few innocent neighbors asked, walking up to me with worried eyes.

I dodged their questions with a practiced, seamless smile. “Hey dear, have you had anything to eat yet? Please make sure you grab some grilled chicken before it's gone!”

They thought I was just a weak, pitiful wife getting humiliated in her own home. They didn't know the truth about our union.

Our parents were lifelong friends and business partners, quiet, low-key billionaires who kept their massive wealth away from the public eye. Ever since high school, I had secretly possessed a wild, rebellious passion.

I desperately wanted to be an exotic dancer. I used to sneak out to take private, professional pole-dancing classes, mastering every spin, trick, and body contortion on a stripper pole.

When both sets of parents discovered my secret dance classes, they were horrified. Desperate to tame my wild spirit and protect the family names, our parents joined forces to arrange our marriage.

They truly believed that Ogbonna, who seemed like a decent, respectable young man in front of them, could discipline me, guide me, and change my ways. To force him to take the job seriously, they tied him down under the exact same legal contract, neither of us could touch a single penny of our joint family inheritance until we completed fifteen full years of marriage together. They believed fifteen years under Ogbonna's care would permanently cure me of my urge to strip.

Sadly, both sets of parents had passed away, leaving me trapped in this legal cage with a man who had completely dropped his decent facade the moment his pride was wounded.

Our parents couldn't chain our hearts or our bodies together, but damn it, they trapped us tight under the law.

I had survived eight long years of marriage—two sweet, six bitter. I still had seven years left to go. Because of that clause, Ogbonna couldn't just divorce me or throw me out without forfeiting the multi-billion fortune, and I couldn't just walk away either. He was trapped just as much as I was. Unlike me, Ogbonna went to college and landed a high-powered job that paid him millions of dollars a year.

“You are prettier than her, you know,” a voice murmured beside me.

I turned to see my neighbor and friend, Agatha, staring across the lawn at Ogbonna and Nnenna, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.

“Look at you, Onyinye,” Agatha continued, turning to look at me with fierce loyalty in her eyes. “You are tall, with gorgeous curves, beautiful eyes, and radiant energy. If I were half as beautiful as you, I would have dragged that young thief out of this compound by her red hair ten minutes ago!”

A tired, soft laugh escaped my lips. “Oh dear, that’s okay,” I told her, shifting Somma's light weight comfortably against my hip. “Let it be, Agatha.”

Because Somma couldn't balance or stand on her own, I spent almost every waking hour carrying her in my arms. I adjusted my grip around her legs, resting my cheek against hers.

"Too loud, Mummy," she whispered softly into my skin, her voice tiny and raspy.

"Mummy got you, baby," I whispered back, slipping her sound-canceling headphones over her ears. Immediately, the tension melted from her tiny frame, and she rested all her weight against my shoulder.

Suddenly, the sharp scratch of static cut through the courtyard speakers. Ogbonna walked up toward the microphone with Nnenna holding his hand tightly.

Ogbonna tapped the microphone twice. He took a heavy breath, looking tall and commanding.

“Thank you all for coming to celebrate my daughter today,” Ogbonna began, his voice booming over the speakers, though his eyes carefully avoided mine and the little girl held in my arms. “While we are all gathered here, there is something important I need to share with everyone.”

He looked down at Nnenna, who beamed up at him in complete triumph.

“I want to announce my engagement to Nnenna,” Ogbonna said into the microphone, his tone steady and unapologetic. “I love her dearly, and we have decided to make our relationship known.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Nobody moved. Nobody clapped.

Every pair of eyes in the yard turned away from the stage and landed squarely on me and my daughter held in my arms.