My
Wife's Li'l Secret
By Eve
Rabi
Out
November 18, 2014
Synopsis
She called me the
miracle in her life, I called her my everything.
Sounds corny, I know, but I really believed I was the luckiest bastard on earth. I had the loving and supportive wife, a nurturing mother to our two precious girls, a thriving business and the future looked rosy. I was a contented man.
But overnight everything changed. My wife withdrew from me, ignored our children, and made it clear she was no longer interested in playing the role of wife and mother.
We had two children under five, they needed her. I needed her.
When her dressing began to change and she disappeared for hours, I suspected I was not enough for her.
Thinking she was having an affair, I placed my wife of five years under surveillance.
What my surveillance revealed shook my world, broke my heart and exposed a web of lies and deceit.
Sounds corny, I know, but I really believed I was the luckiest bastard on earth. I had the loving and supportive wife, a nurturing mother to our two precious girls, a thriving business and the future looked rosy. I was a contented man.
But overnight everything changed. My wife withdrew from me, ignored our children, and made it clear she was no longer interested in playing the role of wife and mother.
We had two children under five, they needed her. I needed her.
When her dressing began to change and she disappeared for hours, I suspected I was not enough for her.
Thinking she was having an affair, I placed my wife of five years under surveillance.
What my surveillance revealed shook my world, broke my heart and exposed a web of lies and deceit.
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What reviewers
are saying about
My
Wife's Li'l Secret...
"Wow I was totally
entranced with this book from the beginning!"
"Wish I could award
this book 10 out of 5 STARS!!"
"All in all I loved this
book, it made me laugh, cry, hold my breath till I went blue, smile and finally
caused my heart to break for Ritchie!"
"Very gripping story
line! But keep the tissues handy."
"Twists that will blow
your mind and make you think about this book long after you finish it."
Excerpt
Since my wife was
out partying again, bedtime routine for our girls was left to me. Again. I
tucked Ally and Becky into bed and began to read a story to them. “Once upon a
time…”
“Dadda?” Ally
said placing her hand on the storybook and stopping me from continuing.
I paused and
looked at my daughter. “Yes, Alleycat?”
“Dadda, what’s a
hooka?”
“Whaaaat?” I
peered at my daughter wondering if I had heard correctly.
“The teacher at
preschool, she said, ‘Here comes the hooka,’ when she saw Mummy.”
Slowly, I lowered
the book and stared at my daughter. “It’s …it’s …”
How do I explain
what a hooker is to a four-year-old? I shouldn’t even be in a position where I
had to.
“The lady
shouldn’t have said that, Ally,” I muttered.
“But, Dadda …”
Two-year-old
Becky spun around and clamped her hand over Ally’s mouth. “Shhh! Let Daddy read
the story, Ally!”
Becky hated
anyone interrupting a story, so to prevent her from getting mad with us, both
Ally and I fell silent. I continued reading even though I was terribly
distracted by Ally’s words.
“Talk about it
tomorrow, Ally,” I muttered when the opportunity arose.
Ally nodded.
After the kids
fell asleep, I sat in my lounge in the dark and pondered Ally’s teacher’s
comment.
Liefie had great
legs, a great figure and I had no problem with her wearing whatever she liked,
but people were talking and clearly her dressing needed to be …addressed.
Of course I
expected Liefie to become angry when I confronted her about it, accuse me of
controlling her and after the number of arguments we had had, I was reluctant
to talk to her about it.
But when I saw
her the following evening, all dolled up and ready to party without her family
again, hooker was the word, alright.
Her red skirt was
the size of a large belt, her white top strained across her breasts and ended
above her belly button, her fake tan looked like she’d dipped herself in food
coloring and that garish, face paint with that dominating electric-blue eye
shadow…reminded me of Braveheart.
She didn’t look
pretty; she looked like an aging prostitute. Harsh words, I know, but they
weren’t out of malice, they were simply an observation. (People were talking,
remember?)
Tarty make-up
aside, to my absolute surprise, she sported two piercings above her left
eyebrows. My jaw fell.
When did that
happen, I wondered? How could that happen? Why hadn’t she told me about it?
Of course it was
her body and she was free to do what she liked to it, but facial piercings
weren’t something I liked. She knew that.
She could have at
least mentioned it to me before she pieced her face. We were husband and wife;
it was reasonable to expect her to talk to me about something like that before
she did it.
“What’s with the
piercing?” I asked, both mesmerized and irritated by them.
She shrugged,
flashed me a deal-with-it look and turned away.
With a weary
sigh, I walked around to face her. “We need to talk.”
A guarded look
flashed in her eyes before they hardened.
“Liefie, you need
to dress more like a mother,” I said in a quiet voice. “You have two children
and …”
“What?! You want
to tell me how to dress now? You want to CONTROL ME?”
Just as I had
expected.
“Hey, keep you
voice down, will you? I’m talking to you, that’s all.”
“There is nothing
wrong with my dressing, okay?! Nothing!”
“Yes, there is,
Liefie. Your skirts are too short, your tops are way too tight and the people
at Ally’s school are talking about it. You need to …”
“Ally’s school?”
Her heavily-lined eyes slanted.
“Yes!”
Her painted,
pillar-box-red mouth twisted into a sneer. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. I
swear!”
She cocked her
head and looked at me. “Who told you that?”
“Ally told me.
She said one of the mothers or teachers, I can’t remember, after seeing you,
used the word hooker.”
Her body
stiffened. “Ally said ….THAT?!?”
“Yea…”
“That bitch!
Where is she?!” She turned and strode off in search of Ally. Even though she
was in heels, she almost ran.
“Liefie stop!” I
cried running after her, shocked she would call her little daughter a bitch.
“Leave her alone!”
She found Ally
playing with Becky in the TV room. “Did you call me a hooker?” she demanded,
putting her flaming face in Ally’s.
“Liefie stop this
shit!” I warned.
Ally’s eyes
flitted between Liefie’s and mine, a terrified look on her face.
“Lief…ie! ” I
hissed. “Stop this …”
Liefie suddenly
backhanded Ally across the face, sending her crashing into a doll’s house.
Ally lay on the
floor so stunned, she didn’t even cry. The only thing that showed her distress
was puddle appearing around her waist.
For a moment, I
too was stunned. Liefie had never ever hit our kids before.
Then fury
overtook me – I grabbed my wife by the hair and slammed her against the wall.
Putting my face
in hers, I snarled, “You ever touch my child like that and I will fuck the shit
out of you, understand? UNDERSTAND?”
Her attempt to
look defiant failed and I saw fear flicker in her eyes.
I had never hit
Liefie before, never even called her names, so this wasn’t something she was
used to.
“Don’t ever lay a
finger on any of my daughters. Understand?” I pushed my face further into hers,
resisting the urge to head-butt her.
“Daddy, stop!
Daddy!” Ally cried, while Becky started to whimper. I looked over at my two
children clinging to each other, terror on their little faces.
What am I doing?!
Quickly, I
released Liefie and took a giant step back.
I walked over to
Ally and Becky, scooped up both of them and hugged them to me. “It’s okay, it’s
okay!”
They looked at
their mother who stood holding her head with both hands, but did not try to go
to her.
After a few
moments, Liefie ran out of the room, shouting, “Your father is an abusive man!
He just abused me in front of our children. That’s the kind of man I married!”
I looked at Ally.
“Sorry, hon.”
“Why did you tell
her, Daddy?” Ally whispered, holding her tear-stained cheek.
“I’m sorry, Al, I
was trying to get her to do the right thing. I’m sorry.”
“You knew she’d
hit me, Daddy. You shouldn’t have told her.”
I peered at Ally.
“What are you talking about? She doesn’t hit you, Ally. Usually. Right?”
No answer.
“ALLY?!”
“I need to change
my pants,” Ally muttered, ignoring my questions.
My head jerked to
look at little Becky.
Becky’s head
bobbed, her eyes opening wide.
You can’t be
serious?!
My eyes shifted
back to Ally. “This is the first time she hit you, right? Or does she hit you?
Tell me, Ally.” I shook her. “Tell me!”
Becky’s head
continued to bob.
“All the time,
Daddy,” Ally finally muttered. “Yesterday she hit me because I took too long to
get Uncle Viggo’s beer. From the fridge.”
“WHAAAT?” She had
my four-year-old daughter fetching alcohol for her brother?
Ally nodded.
“Mummy hit Ally
here,” Becky said, slapping the top of her head.
I was mortified
at what I was hearing.
If Liefie could
hit my daughter that way in front of me, backhand her, what would she be doing
behind my back? Aghast, I looked at my firstborn who I idolized. “Ally, honey,
why didn’t you tell me this?”
“You weren’t
here, Dadda. And Mummy said if I carry tales she’ll make me sorry.” Fat tears
coursed down little Ally cheeks. I drew my girls closer, feeling absolutely
gutted to know they were being silently abused by their own mother. “I’m
sorry,” I said. “Daddy will make it stop. I’m so sorry. This is not going to
happen again. I promise.”
Meet Eve Rabi
Eve Rabi lives in Sydney Australia, but was
born in South Africa.
She is the author of 24 books and is known for her kick-ass leading ladies, her alpha males and her ability to make you cry and make you laugh as you fall in love.
She loves music and cannot live without it.
She also enjoys dancing, (was a Latin dance instructor
years ago) and keeps her kids in line by threatening to bust a Zumba move in
front of their school assembly.
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