Chapter 11 Chapter 11 Why Emmanuella Did This
Emmanuella’s POV
Many would call me mad. But I was not mad; I was just a woman ready to keep her man by any means necessary. The moment we left the restaurant and I chased after him home, I felt there was no longer any reason to create a scene. I mean, we were now home, and there was no Rebecca anywhere, right?
I began to keep malice with him immediately. I needed him to come to me, to come on his knees, to beg me for forgiveness and promise me he wouldn’t be with her for any reason again.
And just at that moment when he would do that, I’d take his phone from him, remove his SIM card—it wouldn’t even matter how many business contacts he had. I would be ready to break his SIM card into two halves and step on it while I personally got him a new line, ensuring he stayed away from that bitch called Rebecca.
But he didn’t come to me. He didn’t say a word after I started keeping malice with him instantly.
I went to our room, but he went to the visitor’s room instead. Is he mad?
Not a trace of guilt? Not a trace of regret? Nothing? How dare he?
This was why I decided to go to the extreme. I didn’t know what to do. All I knew was that I was ready to do anything to keep my husband to myself. I knew he was married when I stole him, but he chose me for a reason, right? And that reason still stood, right?
I began to pace back and forth in the room, my hand on my mouth as I continued to think aloud about what to do and how to do it.
Instantly, an idea struck my heart. “Why can’t I use what I have to get what I want?” I muttered, convinced that this would indeed work.
Over time, I had seen news articles and read books about women using their vaginas to get the men they wanted or to keep their man from leaving them.
I had already done the first one before. I got him with my pussy, and this time, it was time to keep him with my pussy.
I knew that Gabriel was the type of man who loved sex as passionately as he loved his business. Every day when he was still married to Rebecca, he’d book a hotel for us.
He’d either drive me out of the office, and we’d fuck each other like porn stars, or he’d book a hotel after work hours, and we’d fuck each other again.
And right now, this would bring him to his senses and make him love me again without a second thought.
So, immediately, I took off my dress, leaving me completely naked. Then I approached the visitor’s room and unlocked it with a spare key.
As I stepped inside, I saw the shock on his face, but I had not expected anything different.
From shock, he would go to salivating over my body, moving closer to me, pushing me onto the bed, yanking down his trousers, and bringing out his member, inserting it into me.
With his shock, I said to him, “All of this beauty... for you to cheat on me with that loser you divorced to be with me?”
He was saying some words, but whatever he was saying did not matter to me. Everything that mattered was for him to grab me and fuck me hard.
“Fuck me, Gabriel!” I demanded again as he was being slow. “C’mon, do it!” I screamed, my voice unhinged. Yet, all I saw him do was run out of the room like he was scared I was crazy, and I couldn’t help but feel that even my pussy couldn’t help me keep my man at that moment.
As soon as he ran out of the room, I collapsed to the floor like a child denied her favorite cup of ice cream. I began to weep profusely on the floor, hoping that by the heat of my tears he would come to me.
But no! This idiot did not come. Nothing I did worked. He had gone to the living room, his phone to his ear, speaking as if he were whispering and shouting at the same time to the person on the other end of the phone.
I didn’t hear anything he said, but the fact that he was whispering and shouting confirmed who he was talking to.
“Rebecca!” My instincts could not be wrong. My instincts were always right, and this would not be any different.
In this vein, I rose to my feet and wiped my tears. If Gabriel wanted trouble, then I’d give him trouble. I was here to stay, and no woman would snatch him away from me.
Quickly, I darted and tiptoed toward the living room so that he wouldn’t hear me coming. As soon as I reached him, I snatched the phone from his ear.
Without looking at the screen to see who was on the other end, I yelled into the phone, “Fuck you, Rebecca! Do you hear me? Fuck you!” Then I smashed the phone to the ground, destroying everything into pieces without a care.
People might have called that domestic violence, but I called it doing all it took to keep him checked. The shock on his face was more palpable than his long nose.
“Try me again, and it won’t be your phone I smash to the ground; it will be your face. Trust me, you won’t have the chance to see the sunrise the next day before you’re six feet under.” I spat, leaving him in a state of continuous shock.