Marry The Ceo Politician

VALERIE

"Be a changed woman, Valerie Herman."

I waved off the female warden's voice as I stepped out of the prison gates, blinking in the bright sunlight. I don't know what day it was, I just knew I was free, and it made me happy.

It feels good to be finally out. It felt like I had wasted my whole life in prison. On a more reasonable note, I had. Eight years of confinement had not prepared me for the vast expanse of freedom that stretched before me.

I am twenty nine now. I felt old. I had come here when I still had my whole life in front of me, when I had just left college and all I wanted was to fit into all those wedding dresses that one would find in expensive boutiques or even have a famous seamstress sew it up.

"I want to get married soon." I told myself with a sad smile.

I scanned the crowd, expecting to see familiar faces, but there was no one. No family members, no friends, no boyfriend. I felt a pang of disappointment and betrayal.

I do have a boyfriend. Eight years ago, I had planned my life with someone that I knew was the right one. But now, I don't feel that was right anymore.

I had sent texts to my boyfriend, Simon, two months before my release, eager to reconnect and start anew. But he hadn't responded. Not a single word. I had tried to brush it off, thinking he was busy. He should be busy because he always checked up on me – except that he hadn't done that for a year now.

I could go see him. He should still be in the house we shared together. That was my only investment – the house and a large amount of money I entrusted in Simon's hands which I knew he would have turned it into something so great.

I saw a cab and hauled it down. I immediately settled in and the scent of stale cigarettes and worn leather enveloped me. The driver, a gruff-looking man with a scruffy beard, eyed me in the rearview mirror. "Where to, miss?"

I hesitated, unsure of the place I live. The prison had given me a few bucks, enough to get me home. "Just drive," I said finally. "I'll let you know when to stop."

The driver nodded, his eyes lingering on me before returning to the road. We drove in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the hum of the engine and the soft crackle of the radio.

"So, what brings you out today?" The driver's tone was friendly, genuinely curious.

I shrugged, unsure how much to reveal. But something about his warm smile put me at ease. "I just got out of prison," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

The driver's expression changed in an instant, like, he looked at the rearview mirror and his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and he turned back to the road without a word.

I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. What was it that I said wrong? "Figures," I muttered and shook my head, the familiar sting of rejection settling in. I just left prison and I was already humiliated. What more would my own family members do to me?

The driver's eyes flicked to the mirror again, his expression unreadable. But I knew what he saw - an ex-con, a felon, a person to be feared and avoided. Maybe that was what I truly was – I ought to be feared because I had committed the most heinous crime and the worst was that, I cannot remember the details.

I sighed and closed my eyes. We drove for a few more minutes, the silence between us growing thicker. Finally, I opened my eyes and spotted my street then I tapped on the glass. "Stop here."

The driver pulled over, his movements curt. I handed him the fare, our fingers touching briefly. "Thank you." I told him. At least, I still had my manners.

As I stepped into the street, I felt a sense of unease wash over me. The world was a vast, unforgiving place, and I was just a small, insignificant part of it. I took a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs and began to walk down the street.

Things change. Eight years did wonders to this little town I had found worthy of being the place where I would raise my kids and love my husband happily ever after.

I got to the front of the house I got with my own money. There was no need to describe it. It was the best. I pushed open the creaky door. I had been away for so long, and I couldn't wait to see Simon, to feel his arms around me again. But as I stepped inside, I was met with an eerie silence. I called out, "Simon! I'm home!"

But there was no response. I moved further into the house, my eyes scanning the small space. The kitchen was spotless, the dining table empty. But then, I heard it. A low, guttural moan, followed by a faint whisper of pleasure.

"Simon?"

My heart sank, my stomach twisting into knots. I knew that sound, knew it all too well. I followed the sound to our bedroom, my legs trembling beneath me. I pushed open the door, and my world shattered.

Simon lay in bed, his arms wrapped around another woman. Her long, Auburn hair cascaded down her back like a river of gold, and her skin was a radiant, porcelain doll-like complexion. She moaned again, her eyes closed in ecstasy, as Simon thrust into her.

"Simon!"

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, my breath knocked out of me. I stood there, frozen, as the scene unfolded before me. Simon's eyes flickered open, and he saw me, saw the shock and horror etched on my face.

"Valerie? Fuck, how did you get here?"

I was dumbfounded. How did I get into MY own home?

Immediately, Simon sprang into action, scrambling to untangle himself from the woman's limbs. "Valerie, get out." He said.

I was shocked. Get out? "What did you say?"

"Get the hell out of here." And before my very own eyes, he was pushing me out of the house I got by myself. When we got to the front door, he dropped the bombshell.

I stood there, frozen in shock, as his words cut through me like a knife. "Get the hell out, Valerie," he sneered, his eyes cold and detached. "You're not needed anymore."

"What are you talking about?" I stammered, trying to process what was happening. "I found you in bed with another woman and you're telling me to get out? Simon!"

Simon's expression twisted in disgust. "I've moved on, Valerie. I don't need you anymore. You've been gone for eight years, and I've found someone else. Someone better. And you have nothing else here again. This house, I sold it."

That knocked me off my senses but as if that wasn't enough, Simon continued. "And your money, I invested in and well, it's gone."

"Just like that?" I asked him.

"Just like that. Valerie, things got hard and I needed the money. I'm sorry actually. But you can't do anything. You're homeless, have no money so you can't sue me even if you want to."

I watched him say all of these things and it felt like I was watching a movie but damn, this was reality and it was happening to me.

"Leave now. I'll get back to you if I can." And that was it. He shut the door on my face – just like that!

I did leave – just like that. But I knew I couldn't go home. Not now. I felt like shit and my family hates me. Everyone saw me as a murderer, so they distanced themselves. Right now, I could just walk for all I care.

What will a woman do if she finds her man in bed with another woman and he's wasted all she ever worked for?

Maybe... kill herself.

VALERIE

I didn't kill myself. I honestly couldn't do that. I had many options to choose from while in prison; I could have killed myself with the prison scissors or the toilet scrubbing brush or even used the cuffs on my wrist to slash it open.

To make things easier, I went to a bar. I still had a few bucks with me - a few dollars to spend. By tomorrow, I probably won't have anything left. And then it would dawn on me that life outside was more expensive than living in prison.

I slumped onto a stool, the dim lights enveloping me like a heavy shroud. The bartender, a kind-eyed man, raised an eyebrow as I ordered my third whiskey. I wanted to drink my sorrows away, at least. That was my only resort.

"Take it slow, sweetheart," he advised.

I laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. "My life is ruined," I declared, my words slurring slowly. "I just got out of prison, and my boyfriend ripped me."

The bartender's expression softened, then he asked, "What happened, ma'am?"

I took a swig of my drink, feeling the burn all the way down. "He cheated on me." I spat, the words bitter on my tongue, "he said I was nothing to him, that he'd moved on, and he sold my house and wasted my money. Bad investment."

The bartender nodded sympathetically. "Sorry to hear that. But you're strong, you'll get through this."

I snorted. "Strong? Me? You don't know me. I've been to hell and back, and I've got nothing to show for it. All I know about are wedding dresses."

The bartender poured another drink. "That's something, you know. We've all been there. But sometimes, you gotta hit rock bottom before you start climbing back up."

I raised my glass, a toast to my misery. "Well, I'm definitely at rock bottom." I laughed.

I had a few more bottles, and at one point, I got pressed. I stumbled out of my seat, my vision blurry from the whiskey. "Toilet," I slurred.

The bartender nodded and pointed me towards the ladies' room. "Right in that corner, lady."

I didn't really see where he pointed, but I didn't care. Little did I know I was heading to the men's toilet. All I wanted was just to pee.

As I entered the men's toilet, I realised my mistake, but it was too late. I was already peeing on the floor, unable to control myself. A voice behind me shouted, "Hey, what the..."

I turned, still peeing. I then saw a man standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock. I couldn't see him well because of the effect of the drink. I flung myself at him, laughing hysterically and wrapping my arms around his neck.

"You want to have sex?" I asked him.

The man must have looked at me for a long time before he pushed me off him and went out. I laid on the floor, on my pee for a while before dragging myself up. The toilet smelt like shit – like my life. I could have ended up being killed. It would be better. I wouldn't have to face this cruel world.

I killed someone eight years ago. But I wasn't sure who it was, and I cannot remember how I killed her. Yes, the person I killed was a woman. And till today, I couldn't quite place how I ended her life.

And two people I cared about mostly in the world found her dead body beside me – my parents. They didn't even wait for any explanations, the called the police immediately and lo and behold, I got eight years. It was fair enough, the girl's family didn't want want to press charges anymore.

I was drunk. Just like now. And if I had a weapon now, I could have killed that man. Psychopaths tend to continue their gruesome crimes again. But why didn't I get that urge to kill that man?

"You are not a psychopath." A voice screamed at me.

I smiled and got up. I would stagger my way out of here and get to my last resort.

Just as I was about to leave the bathroom corridor, a hand grasped my arm, spinning me around. I tried to protest, but my voice was weak. A man's face loomed in front of me, but it was shrouded in darkness. I couldn't make out his features; I couldn't see his eyes.

"What the..."

The man dragged me into a room, his grip on my arm like a vice. I stumbled, my legs trembling beneath me. He pushed me against a wall, his hands covering my nose and mouth. I tried to struggle, but my body felt like lead.

And then, the craziest thing happened! The man's lips were on mine. Hard, insistent. It tasted like salt and pepper, alcohol and meat, mint and cinnamon. I tried to turn away, but he held me fast. His tongue invaded my mouth, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.

"Hmm, tasty," he whispered into my mouth and continued to kiss me.

He tasted so sweet, so nice and it did things to my body. I haven't felt like this in many years and it excited me so much.

I couldn't see him; I couldn't push him away. I was trapped, helpless. My mind fogged with alcohol; I couldn't even muster a scream. His kisses deepened and grew more urgent. I felt like I was drowning, suffocating under his touch. I tried to raise my arms to push him off, but they felt like weights, too heavy to lift.

"Too many clothes..." He breathed. His hands moved very fast – my back, my thigh, my breast.

Too many clothes? My eyes snapped open when he said that, but I couldn't escape. I was about to have sex with an unknown man. He could be a lunatic, a homeless man, a psychopath, a thief - he could be anything, yet I didn't care, I didn't mind.

"The bed." The man rasped, and I slumped into the bed. By now, I was in my pants. We laid on the bed, and the man's hands moved to remove my last piece of clothing. I felt a shiver run down my spine as he teased me, his fingers tracing the edges of my pants before slowly pulling them down. The sensation was both thrilling and terrifying.

"Oww." That was not a moan, but it kind of excited the man because he bent his head and did unimaginable things to me.

"You taste like heaven, woman." He rasped. His voice, it was unlike anything I had ever heard, it was both cooling and soothing, deep and creamy.

He was fast! His lips came up again and crashed against mine, the kiss intense and passionate. I felt like I was drowning in the depths of his torture, unable to escape the desire that burned between us. I tried to cry out, but my voice was muffled by his lips.

"Shh. Don't scream."

Suddenly, I felt him move against me, and I screamed, the sound lost in the darkness. My mind was a jumble of emotions, unsure of what was happening or why. All I knew was that I loved the way I was feeling.

"Oh damn!"

He thrust deep again, without any mercy, I felt him deep in my core, tight and right, cold and heavy.

The room spun around me, a blur of shadows and darkness. I felt like I was floating, disconnected from my body. The only thing that anchored me was the man's touch, his hands holding me in place as he moved against me.

I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. All I could do was feel, my senses overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through my body.

When was the last time I had sex?

Eight terrible years ago. This was one out of a hundred that made me happy. And in the morning, I wouldn't care. I would deal with whatever happened later on.

VALERIE

(FOUR YEARS LATER)

"Good morning, world." I was used to that, always greeting Mother Nature. It was a way of saying I appreciated everything I had in my life.

I looked at the wall clock. Oh Shit! I was going to be late to work again.

"Shit! I'm late!"

I raced to the bathroom and had the quickest bath, and soon, I was out. I wrapped my towel tightly around me. The warm bath had relaxed my muscles, but my mind was still foggy from the events of the previous night.

"Joan will reduce my salary. Oh damn, I am jinxed." I complained. This wasn't the first time I would be late to work, and when my boss finds out, she always pulls the punishment from my salary.

It was hard trying to adjust to life after imprisonment, especially when you've got no family or a means of livelihood. I did three jobs, worked as a nanny before securing a job in a decent place this year.

"Cruel world." I echoed.

Just as I was buttoning my shirt, I heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking. My heart skipped a beat. I frozed, my senses on high alert. Who could be in my house?

I didn't think twice before grabbing the baseball bat from behind the door, my hands trembling slightly. I slowly made my way to the kitchen, the bat at the ready.

As I entered the kitchen, instead of seeing a big guy trying to steal my old fridge or the fairly used toaster I got two months ago, I saw a small, blonde girl standing on her tiptoes, trying to reach the cookie jar on the counter. She couldn't have been more than four years old.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. This little girl, she was mine. A product of that reckless night four years ago. The night I had tried so hard to forget.

"Daisy."

The little girl turned around, her big blue eyes locking onto mine. I don't have blue eyes; it was certainly from her father, but sadly, I had no idea who he was. She smiled, and my heart melted. I saw myself in those eyes; I saw the innocence and curiosity that I had once possessed.

I took a step forward, my legs trembling. "Hello," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The little girl giggled and took a step closer to me. "Mummy?" She asked, her voice uncertain.

I nodded. "Yes, baby. Mummy's here."

"I want a cookie."

"I'll get it. Are you hurt?"

She shook her head and I handed her a cookie. She took a bite of the cookie and looked at me with a serious expression. "Mummy, I saw the government on TV," she said.

I smiled, correcting her gently. "You mean the governor, sweetie?"

Daisy nodded, taking another bite of her cookie. I watched her for a moment, savouring the simplicity of the moment. But as much as I wanted to stay in this peaceful bubble, reality intruded. I glanced at the clock and realised it was time for Daisy to get ready for daycare.

That was all I could afford at the moment. I would put her in a good school when I had saved enough.

"Okay, baby, time to get ready," I said, trying to sound cheerful.

Daisy's face fell, and she looked up at me with pleading eyes. "Do I have to, Mummy?"

I nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. "Yes, sweetie, you do. But I'll be here to pick you up after work, and we can have a special afternoon together."

Daisy sighed, but nodded resignedly. I helped her down from the chair, and we headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face.

I dropped Daisy at the daycare and made my way to work. I was a seamstress in a big fashion company. I did get one of my dreams to come true. I was working in a company that specialises in sewing wedding dresses. Although I was a minor seamstress, one day, I will build my own company.

I got to work and luckily, my boss, Joan, wasn't in her office. In fact, the seniors were not around. It was when I began to settle down that a colleague came to tell me that there was a campaign for a popular politician and everyone had gone to see him.

Christina, my colleague, snorted, rolling her eyes, "All the women are head over heels for him, and girl, he is hot!"

I nodded, not looking up from my desk as I organised my papers. Christina switched on the TV, and the sound of the politician's smooth voice filled the room.

"My fellow citizens, we are at a crossroads today," he started, "We have two options: either we clear a road or we stay on the same old path of inaction - a manner that puts our communities, families, and kids' needs first."

I smiled to myself, still not looking up from my desk. I had heard it all before - the charm, the charisma, the empty promises, that's all they can do.

"We need a leader who will fight for us," the man continued, his voice dripping with sincerity. "A leader who will stand up to the special interests and corporations that have held us back for too long."

Christina sighed, shaking her head. "He's got a silver tongue, I'll give him that."

I nodded in agreement, still arranging my papers. I had no intention of getting caught up in the hype surrounding the man. I had more important things to focus on.

"You know his name?" Christina asked me.

I looked at her now, but not at the TV, "should I?"

"His name is Kurt Nelson."

"Oh..."

"And what's so special about him?" I asked.

"He's rich, single and old."

"Old?"

"Yeah. People say he's fifty, but girl, that man looks like twenty-seven." Christina said.

I smiled. She must be exaggerating. But who knows? He could be what she said he was.

"VALERIE HERMAN!"

Christina and I looked back instantly and repositioned ourselves when we saw Joan. She was dressed in an extravagant way as usual; shiny eyebrows, red lipstick, flashy gowns and an exquisite hat.

I wondered what it was about this morning. Christina quickly scurried away, not wanting to be caught up in whatever mess Joan might want to put me into.

"Good morning, Miss. Brooke."

"To my office." She said and was walking away.

I sighed and sat down for a while before going to her office. When I got there I was taken aback by the presence of a stunning woman with piercing green eyes and long, curly brown hair. She was pacing back and forth, her phone pressed to her ear.

"I am telling you, Kurt Nelson is a breath of fresh air. He's the leader we need, and I'm so excited to support his campaign," she said, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

"Hi, I'm Valerie," I said, smiling at the woman.

But instead of returning my greetings, she turned to me with a scowl. "Can't you see I'm on a call?" She snapped.

I felt taken aback by her hostility, but before I could respond, Joan looked up from her desk, where she had been quietly observing the exchange.

"Valerie, thanks for coming in," she said, her voice neutral. "Please, have a seat."

I sat down, trying to make sense of the woman's behaviour. Why was she being so nasty? And why was Joan not doing anything to intervene? Well, that is what I get for being a minor seamstress here. If only I could land my first client.

As the woman finished her call, the toilet door swung open and my heart skipped a beat when I saw someone I prayed to never come across again – Simon. The same Simon who had sold my house and spent all my money while I was in prison.

He was standing right in front of me, flesh and blood and he was unreachable. I couldn't believe he was the one. "Simon..." his name died on my lips.

Before I could process what I was seeing, the woman walked over to Simon and kissed him intimately.

Wow! The hurt came all over again and I wanted to crumble but I just had to be strong. It was over now, I shouldn't care.

She then turned to Joan, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Is she the one who's going to sew my wedding dress?" She asked, her eyes glinting with malice.

Joan looked at me, "Yes, she is."

It felt like I was dreaming. Simon, my ex, was marrying this woman? And I was supposed to sew her wedding dress? The irony was not lost on me. I couldn't believe what I was being asked to do.

If it was any woman out there, would she be able to do this?