Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Mrs Reluctant Billionaire || Four

By Friday morning, I am still pissed. A tight ball of fury waiting to explode. So when the driver stops me in front of the mansion gate and the twins are not outside waiting for me, I nearly detonate. It takes a strangled sigh, another look at the rearview mirror where my eyes meet with the driver's to see how red the tips of my ears have turned. And I drum my foot into the car until the tightness in my chest recedes.

Retrieving my phone, I double check to see if the text I sent was delivered. No surprises there. I haven't made that mistake after that tantrum at her school. But my kids are nowhere near. That familiar anger claws at my jaw, I told her I would be here in two minutes and three minutes have passed without them.

Today is the first time I have to step out of the car to get them, when my feet meet the ground, a wave of nostalgia hits me. This used to be my home. Our home. Until I-we, no, she ruined it. She could have fought for us like she always did. Given me another chance, I would have done anything to keep my girls.

All three of them.

But it turns out a determined Elna Stark is an unstoppable one. She will crack once I slither my way into her life like I did the first time. I am going nowhere. She will always be mine. Her and the kids are mine.

The sensor at the giant gate picks up on my movements, maybe she did. I plaster a fake smile as the gate slides open and the twins burst out the front door. They stop to stare at me with identical mischievous smiles, I groan, those two are at it again. It's one plot or the other, a scheme to get both of us in a place.

They want us back together. Ever since they understood our situation, they have worked hard at getting us back under the same roof. I would be a liar if I said I didn't want the same thing as them but right now, all I can think of is my wife's pretty lips parting to let out a moan for another man. A man she sent selfies of her naked self, whispered how much she missed him while touching herself. Who does that? Only her.

Against my better judgement, I rewatched that goddamn video, trying to figure out who the selfies went to. Torturing myself until sleep dragged me to a dreamless land. And she's to blame for my crankiness.

I am operating on little sleep, pent up anger, rejection and I don't need the kids pulling any cute shit today or anytime soon. Taking one step into the large compound, I spare a glance at the fountain in the middle, at least she maintains it. The smile on my lips remains, I work on making it more genuine. My babies can spot fake smiles from a mile's radius, only positive and good vibes are allowed around them.

Brenwyn Elna Stark is the first one to run to me, curls bouncing as she jumps on me for a hug. I catch her midair, spin her around and her childish giggles chips the invisible blocks on my shoulders. She peppers kisses all over my face, I hoist her on my hip, her legs circle my waist and her arms lock around my neck.

Branwyn Amahle Stark leans on the door, legs crossed at her ankles, scowl on her face while watching Bren who tries for the umpteenth time to braid my hair. I think she might be the female version of me.

Cold and calculating.

I don't know how to feel about that. Scared? Maybe. Anxious? Hell yeah. I am working on being the best role model to my girls but I don't want them to be anything like me. Like their mother? Yes, please. She has to be the best person on earth, though she has grown a wild streak of late but Bren is just like her.

"Bran," I say once I stop in front of her. Bren squirms in my arms, I release her and crouch to hold Bran's hand. She yanks it from me, my lips press into a line. With her, you never know what to expect. "Bran."

"Don't call me Bran, it's a boy's name."

Is it? If I hadn't been under so much pressure to get names for the kids, I might have found fancier ones. Hearing her voice out my stupidity makes me wonder what I was thinking. Clearly, I wasn't. I couldn't have. I am not over the fact I was kicked out of the labour room on my wife's order. We tried to make up for my poor choices with their middle names. Well, Elna did, that one was on her alone. As it has been.