DEMI
I had expected my life to change after taking on the last na of the Rollins family but what I underestimated was how quickly that will happen.
"What? What do you an I can't work?"
I watch my new mother-in-law sip her coffee and gingerly replace the chinaware on the tray next to her chair. "Keep it down, Demi. It's too early and you're going to give a headache." She subtly rubs her temples with her eyes pressed shut. I breathe through my teeth to rein in the temper brewing behind my eyes.
"Mrs. Rollins please..." I implore her, grabbing a seat next to her. "I am not cut out to be a house wife. I'll go crazy. I want to work. I love working."
"You're part of the Rollins family now, Demi. Everything you do henceforth can have a ripple effect on our image and the daughter-in-law of this family taking up a job will reflect poorly on us."
I can't believe she is saying this. How did she forget to ntion this part when coaxing to wed one of her sons? This is utterly ridiculous. I didn't sign up to be a prop in the Rollins mansion. Mrs. Rollins flicks a sympathetic glance at my anxious face and the first hints of amusent creeps into hers.
She chuckles loudly. "Are you really that devastated about doing absolutely nothing and having everything you could ever need at the snap of your fingers? Demi, I have a husband and four sons who make at least twenty million dollars weekly. Even if I decide to shop every day for the next five years, I won't go broke. You don't need to make money to earn your place here. That's my point."
"I don't want to work because I want to rival anyone's earnings. I could never do that even if I tried. I just love working Mrs. Rollins, because it fulfills . I hate being idle. I wasn't raised that way." My face crumple with desperation.
"Tell about your parents, Demi. I never asked."
The question catches off guard. Mrs. Rollins is sitting uprightly now and staring intently at . "Uh...they um...they died. Few years back."
"So sorry for your loss, dear." She takes a cautious sip from her steaming mug. "How, if you don't mind asking."
I shift restlessly in my seat. This is clearly still a sore topic for even after five years. "Occupational hazard." I blurt out. My fingers are suddenly clammy with sweat. "I am sorry. I just don't like reliving the pain by discussing the details." I lurch to my feet, uncomfortable with the palpable silence in the living room.
"I'm sorry Demi. I didn't an to upset you."
"It's fine." I clench and unclench my fingers. The room feels hot all of a sudden.
"Are you okay?"
I stop gnawing at my fingertips and stare down at my mother-in-law.
"You've broken out in a sweat."
She's right. My forehead is coated with sweat. Ignoring it, I drop into my seat again. "I know it sounds ironic coming from a peasant like but Mrs. Rollins, I am not comfortable living like my life is an endless vacation trip. Could you help find a job that's befitting of my new status? Anything is fine as long as I have a place to go to every day and make aningful contributions to, just like your quads." The quads. I pray she takes the bait. I want to work with one of the quads. I have to. Anyone will do for now.
Soone is onto . I might not have as much ti as I thought so I have to expedite my plans now. That text ssage has left in a constant loop of unease. Who could it be? How did they know?
Mrs. Rollins inclines her head and contemplates. "You and Ashley just got married. It won't look good if you two swing back into work imdiately. It's all over social dia that your marriage was arranged to..."
Is this what it ans to be affluent and famous? I wonder quietly as Mrs. Rollins rants about the need to dispel the rumors of my acceptance and marriage being another ploy by the Rollins family to smooth out the feathers ruffled by the intoxicated marriage incident.
Is this my new way of life? To live life according to the dictates of stock market prices and on the whims of the public opinion?" My lips curl distastefully. It's a different kind of prison, one I'll have to endure for a bigger and greater agenda.
"You're right, mother. I shouldn't insist." I sink into my seat and blow raspberries with my lips. "I guess It's my fate to putter around the house in my flip flops and watch the clock ticking till Ashley returns."
A hoot of laughter echoes. "When you put it like that, it sounds very depressing which is far from how I feel about my daily routine." Mrs. Rollins purrs. I muffle an apology. For a woman in her fifties, Mrs. Rollins looks very good for her age. Her milk white skin is shiny and spotless. Her face lacks the folds and creases common with her age. We share a smile in the companionable silence.
"Tell about them. Asher, Ashley, Ashal and Ashton. Every birth has a unique story to it. What was it like having the quads and nursing four babies? Must have been a madhouse" The smile on Mrs. Rollins' face deepens and her eyes light up as I continue, "How were you able to distinguish them? Did you have them wear na tags? Who was the naughtiest growing up?"
Mrs. Rollins swipes a tear from her eyes. She takes her precious ti overwheld by the sudden flux of emotions. I feel uneasy watching her.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Rollins..."
"Oh, for heavens' sake, call mother. Drop the formality." She pats her eyes dry now with the oval-tipped nails.. "Oh, there's just so many stories to tell I wouldn't know where to start." Then she proceeds to tell how chaotic life was when the quads were toddlers and how troubleso they grew to beco as adolescents. She had made them wear na tags until one day they just wouldn't comply anymore.
"Can you really not tell them apart?" I ask after her story draws to an teary end. "You've known them all their lives. They might be able to fool the rest of us all the ti but certainly not their own parents."
"I know them when they co to . My boys always find their way to once in a while and when they do, they co as their true selves. Asher sheds his leadership role long enough to seek my humble advice. Ashley's serious and creative spark kicks in when we rub minds on his latest design sketches. When Ashton cos, he doesn't cuss around . He is the sweetest gentleman and very kind. Ashal..." Her voice falters, then firms. "Ashal allows himself to be vulnerable around . He narrowly escaped being a mama's boy." She chuckles lightheartedly. "My boys, they an the world to . They're good n, not perfect as no one is but good for sure. You're here because I believe they can be better."
Her words are nothing like I have heard about the quads. Curiosity stirs in the pit of my stomach as I wonder what I could find if I manage to peel back the layers of personalities the quads have built over the years until I reach their authentic selves. I am not just here to fulfil my end of the bargain with their mother; I am here for a few other selfish reasons. I want to ensure that when my plans co to a climax, the right Rollins brother will be the one being punished for destroying my life five years ago.
"The quads spend most of their day at work. If I don't find an excuse to hang around them, I may fail to fulfil my promise to you, mother." I shoot her a toothy smile. "If I can't go back to my old job, then maybe I can learn a new one working with my new family, with Ashley perhaps."
I don't care for fashion but I'll settle for hovering around Ashley at any of his clothing stores while watching him work. Mother buys my puppy dog look and in exactly forty-five minutes, we pull up in a sleek orange Maybach in front of Ashley's latest pop-up shop in downtown Danvarr.
My heart does cartwheels as journalists take photos of and mother's arrival. It's my first public outing as Mrs. Demi Ashley Rollins, mother whispers before grabbing my tensed hand and following the lead of our bulky bodyguards in well-pressed suits. The interior of the shop has a roomy, closet feel despite the rows of color-coded clothing from high-end brands. Mother weaves our way through the endless streams of passionate chatter from bright-eyed won with model-like bodies. When the conversations segued to the new wife of Ashely Rollins and phone caras start flashing in my face, I fight back a shudder. I can never get used to this attention.
We are steered to the VVIP waiting room. The elegant hue of the room is blended into graceful furnishings. The walls are decked with expensive art from all over the world. Ashley, clad in a dark blazer and pants is engrossed with tapering his latest silk dress to the tiny waist of his beautiful model. Mom gestures to a seat while we watch him work in silence like the handful of assistants flanking him. His eyes are narrow with precision as he deeply focuses on bringing the image in his head to life.
When his eyes rake the model's body, they aren't riddled with lust as usual. Rather, I note admirably that they're contemplative and full of appraisal. Watching him, I realize fashion is more than a business for him; it's an expression of how he views his own slice of the world. I can tell it makes him happy, proud and fulfilled every ti he throws together a dazzling look.
"Give a twirl, please?" The model obliges and spins. A small smile works its way onto Ashely's handso face, accompanied by a vigorous nod.
"He's in his head at the mont." Mother whispers proudly. "He can barely register any other presence here other than that of his model." I zero in on his face cloaked with rapt attention on the model while he works. I never imagined Ashley 'the flirt' could look upon a woman's body like she was rely a mannequin. Today, I stand corrected. It feels awfully refreshing to glimpse this rare side to him.
Ashley mutters instructions to an assistant with an iPad before the small crowd disperses. He streaks a hand over his hair and whirls around. His eyes light up at the sight of his mom. His full smile makes my heart skip a beat as he strides towards us, his blazer fluttering like a cape. He leans down to give his mom a peck.
When he turns to , his smile thins "Hello Demi." I nod awkwardly at him. Things have been weird between us since our last conversation. "This is a surprise. I wasn't expecting you guys."
"We thought we would surprise you."
"Well, I'm glad." Hooking an arm around his mom, he continues gleefully. "Let's head to my office for lunch. We have a full house but my staff can take it from here."
"Good." Mother concurs, freeing her arm and nudging towards Ashely. "Your wife hasn't had anything all morning. You two can discuss her employnt prospects here over lunch." Ashely's eyes goggle in shock as does mine.
"What? What are you talking about?" He flicks a glance at . My mouth goes dry as Mrs. Rollins pecks our cheeks and heads out the door for a lunch appointnt with her husband. I shift awkwardly as a hush falls over the room. Ashely buries his hands in his pockets and clears his throat.
"I have a lot to do. Let's talk about whatever this is when I get ho. Richard will take you ho." He gestures and his assistants trail after him as he leaves.
I feel silly right now. Wordlessly, I stalk out of the room. By the ti I am outside the shop, I have worked up a fine head of steam. How could he be so abrupt and rude? Would it kill him to have lunch with ? Why couldn't he even pretend in front of his staff? The bitter thoughts continue to flit through my head, worsening my throbbing headache.
"To think I was going to apologize to him..." With a loud oath of disgust, I slide into the car waiting for . Did Ashely and his brothers not consider pretty? Is that why they easily diss ? I may not be a supermodel but I know I don't look terrible at all.
Hours later, I stir awake in bed as my phone continues to blow up with notifications. I pull up my WhatsApp to behold nurous ssages and attachnts, mostly from Anna and Kira. I open one up and it takes to a thread where I am being bashed as Ashely's wife.
"She's nowhere near his league. Nicola is a better match."
"She's a desperate whore. He can't even stand her. Instantly turned her down when she wanted to have lunch with him today."
"Ashely deserves better. She has no fashion sense. They are ill-suited for each other." #justiceforAshely #AshNic4life
"She is built like a pole, flat and uninteresting to look at. How the hell did such a woman weasel her way into the Rollins family?"
Divorce her now Ashely! She'll corrupt your gene pool and give you basic looking babies."
A startled breath trembles from my lips as I skim through the harsh comnts that only get more vulgar the deeper I go. I don't realize I am crying until a single tear runs down my face. I blot it away with my palm but when I see old pictures of Ashely and Nicola who is apparently his ex-fiancé trending online, next to a mockup of so pathetic selfies I took ages ago, I lose it. I don't care about his relationships, past or present. It just sucks to be rcilessly trolled online.
"It's a contract marriage. I don't care about his relationship." I whimper. Yet while I bawl my eyes out till the first slivers of sunlight filter into my room, I fail to understand why my pride takes a blow whenever I recall the photo of Nicola's angelic face split in a smile while she shared lunch with Ashely in his office after I left.
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