His Second Wife
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Christopher Grayston only wanted to marry to stop his grandfather from asking him to remarry. As a result, he married a girl he met outside civil affairs. He wanted to marry someone with whom they would never consummate their marriage. So he settled for a young girl he had just met standing outside the Civil Affairs Bureau, knowing full well that he wouldn't touch her because she was just a girl. Camila Mendoza fit the bill since she was young, though she was a temptress without even trying. The two signed the marriage certificates and went separate ways. However, 3 months down the line, fate brought them together. Camila saved a kid and later learned that the boy she saved was her husband's son. Camila never cared about how her whore of a husband conducted his life until she met his son. Everything was fine till his ex-wife came stumbling back into his life. A man who is always making headlines about his sex life and a wife on a mission. Who would triumph? The ex-wife who is determined to get her husband back, or the new wife whose mission is to love her son and make her husband notice her? Read to find out.
It was my poison, looking out my office window over San Diego's gorgeous streets while drinking Dalmore Decades. I've been thinking about my grandfather, who is constantly nagging me to remarry. The strain and headache that had been looming over me for years suddenly arrived, throbbing down in the foundation of my brain. My grandfather's remarks make me shake my head. While admiring the magnificent streets, I kept my sight fixed on the glass. Mark, my closest buddy, entered. He got himself a drink and came over to stand with me.
"You know, the old guy is right. You can't pay for pussy forever." That's my friend Mark. The man has no filter, not that I have one myself. While Mark and I were conversing, an idea immediately sprung to mind.
"Mark, I'll see you when I return. Wish me luck."
"Can you tell me where you're going?"
"I'm getting married."
Mark’s eyes immediately widened, but I didn't care. I summoned my driver. A black Rolls-Royce Phantom VII came to a stop in front of Grayston Group.
I proceeded to the rear once the valet unlocked the door, loosening the two buttons on my shirt over my chest and reclining against the leather seat.
" To the Civil Affairs Bureau, please."
My driver cast a glance my way, with a puzzled expression. He knew not to ask questions, so he simply drove.
Upon arrival at the Civil Affairs Bureau, I scrutinized all the females around me. My gaze landed on a pensive, terrified girl. She seemed to be between the ages of 21 and 22, quite young, she’s a beauty.
Even if it's only a wife to get my grandpa off my back, she needs to be stunning, and that girl fits the bill perfectly.
As I approached the girl, I watched as she paled considerably, beads of perspiration appeared on her forehead, and her whole body started to quiver violently. I reached out and grabbed her hand as she was ready to flee.
I went to over 15 interviews in the last four months and had no success since I wasn't a resident of San Diego. To be a resident of San Diego, you must marry a San Diego native. I didn't know until the security guard from my last interview informed me, and after some considerable research and investigation into the matter, I discovered that it was in fact true. Me not being a resident is why I have been unable to get employment. I was afraid when I arrived at the Civil Affairs Bureau. What type of spouse would I have? I just brushed it off and waited. The waiting had begun to take its toll on me. I was shivering and sweating profusely. I glanced at my hands and realized I wouldn't be able to stand there for another minute. When I turned to walk away, a warm and comforting hand brushed against mine. It was way too comforting for some reason, and I felt like I could entrust the hand. When I turned around, I was presented with the million-dollar question.
"Excuse me, will you please marry me?"
I was dragged out of my anguish by a clear voice. I lifted my head in surprise at what I saw, a towering guy with features that might absorb a single soul. His brows were well-defined, and he had a chiseled face. His visage seemed to have been captured on a Sunday morning when God was not in a rush to do anything. He was just stunning. He seemed to be a faultless masterpiece. He looked incredible in all black, and the design highlighted his slender yet muscular physique. He had a noble and dignified demeanor. Yet he comes across as distant and unapproachable. I didn't wake up until the guy asked the same question again.
"I'm sorry. What exactly did you say?"
"I couldn't help but notice, that you were feeling uneasy earlier. Are you in haste to tie the knot?" He inquired.
"Yes," I shrugged as I stared at the Greek Adonis in front of me.
"Then let's get married," he replied. We went inside the Civil Affairs Bureau and came out with our marriage certificate after an hour and a half. I was the happiest person on the planet at the time. At the very least, now I can obtain a job and get some money to support myself. I dropped my sight to the photos of my now-husband and me sitting together. He was grinning, and I was grinning as well. I suppose he felt the same way I did about getting married. I discovered the name of the Adonis I married while staring at our wedding photograph. I burst out laughing because I had just learned my husband's name from a marriage certificate. His name was Christopher Grayston.
"Camila Mendoza?" Christopher whispered his little wife’s name. Christoper was examining his marriage certificate as well. He spoke her name softly, the low tone of his voice allowing it to roll effortlessly off his tongue. He spoke her name in such a manner that it sent thrills down her spine. He could see she was agitated.
"Let's go get some rings, and we'll be good to go." She smiled and nodded. We entered a diamond ring shop.
"You may choose a ring for yourself or both of us." She was petite, but not too small, but because Christopher was too tall, one would say she was a kid. She pulled Christopher’s shoulder down to her level and murmured in his ear.
"I'm sorry, but I don't have enough money to buy you a ring. You are free to choose one for yourself. When I have a job, I'll purchase one."
"Wife, pick out a ring for both you and me. I don't have the entire day free." She smiled and nodded.
Thank goodness the retailer didn't put prices on the rings, since that would have made it easy for her to pick without being concerned about the price. Christopher thought to himself.
She went ahead and chose two rings. Then she called me, and then the salesman just had to sabotage Christopher’s plans.
The salesperson exclaims loudly, "That would be 14 million dollars each, sir."
"What, no, it's too much, husband. We need to change it."
"No, wife, it's perfect. I'll cherish it." She was taken aback and stared at him in amusement. Christopher purchased the rings. He was amused by how awkward addressing each other husband and wife had been. He withdrew a card from his wallet and handed it to Camila. He urged that she accept the card despite her protests. He also grabbed her phone and put his number on it, and he requested that she do the same. They then split ways after exchanging wedding rings.
Recently, I have attended a few job interviews. To begin with, they refused to hire me since I was not a resident. They're now refusing to hire me because I'm overqualified. How peculiar is that? Why was it necessary for me to marry? I promised myself I would not use my husband's money, yet now I am reliant on it. He has not contacted me to inform me that I am over my budget. At the very least, I can purchase food and pay my rent. This is the only positive aspect of our marriage that I can speak of. While I was enjoying my macchiato, I saw a little boy crossing the street alone. The child seemed frail and he fainted in the middle of the road, which was busy with traffic. Nobody was eager to help the kid. Cars hooted incessantly, and while I checked to see whether his parents would run to remove him off the road, I saw a truck rushing towards him. It seemed as though the truck driver lost control of the vehicle. As the boy's f
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