She made me do it

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: ᴅɪᴍɪᴛʀɪ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ

"ᴡᴇ ᴅᴇʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴇʀғʟʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴀʀᴇʟʏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇs ɪᴛ ʜᴀs ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄʜɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ." - ᴍᴀʏᴀ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏᴜ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: ᴅɪᴍɪᴛʀɪ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ

The alarm chimes. I look at the clock and see it's 6 AM. I rub my eyes and for two entire minutes, ask myself why I am not rich yet. I look over and see my wife struggling to turn of the alarm so I reach over, turn it off and give her 13 kisses. 1 kiss for every year we've been married. She giggles. I get up at 06:05, like every other day. Go wake up my kids, like every other day. Hop in the shower after that, like every other day. Coming back in the room and seeing my suit laying on the bed and smelling breakfast downstairs, like every other day. Needless to say, my days these days are pretty similar. My wife and I have created a routine that works for us. After breakfast, I kiss my wife and kids goodbye and take a moment to appreciate my wife in all her glory, running around and getting the kids ready while in her work attire. She truly is a superwoman and I could not have been luckier to have her in my life. It also helps that she is breath taking: dark brown eyes you could lose your soul in, long black and big curly/kinky hair, plump lips, a smile to die for, freckles that French kiss her skin, dimples that can suck out every bit of negative energy from the atmosphere and a body to match. She looks at me, smiles and my heart flutters. I can't take my eyes off her so I stand there, breathless, for a minute straight. After taking a final glance, I exit the premises, jump in one of our black Range Rovers and head to work.

I've got a couple of meetings today with a few new clients. Entering the office, I ask my assistant to recite what appointments I have before lunch. This way I can prepare for those meetings."𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘔𝘳. 𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯" she said with a huge smile while handing me a cup of coffee. "𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘦, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘳𝘪" I said to Jackie. I look up at her and see she cut her hair in a straight bob. It matches her high cheekbones, light brown eyes and the poise she walks around with. If I could compare her to someone, I would compare her looks and attitude to Miss Kitty from that trash reality TV show my wife loves and forces me to watch with her, "Black Ink Crew". She says I should watch it with her "for the culture", whatever that may mean. "𝘏𝘦𝘺, 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘵!"I say and she blushes. "𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘔𝘳. 𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘔𝘳. 𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯'"she said while looking up my appointments for the day on her iPad. Jackie is my longtime assistant who became a great friend of the family. We bonded because we're the only black people on this floor and well, she's the kind of 'nice' you can't deny. She mentions a few regular appointments and an appointment with a 'Mrs. Davis'. That's a name I haven't heard before. My clients are mostly rich white males. Female clients are very uncommon in my caseload so I'm curious to see what type of services she requires.

My first few appointments went by quickly. They were like similar to each other. White high society men who have been married for decades, cheated a couple of times too many and are scared that their wives can prove their antics during their divorce settlements. Basically, they made their wives into housewives, let them give up half their lives, cheat on them multiple times but refuse to give them half of what they made. As if being a stay at home wife wasn't an investment they made together but hey, who am I to judge right? At the end of the day, I'm cashing in those coins for my family. Some think I'm an immoral bastard for knowingly helping those men get what they want, I don't. If I wasn't here, they were going to find a way to get their way anyway, so I might as well cash in on their miseries. Let's call it reparations.