Hello everyone. My name is Sylvie Green. I am of half British, half American nationality. People tend to add an A at the end of my name, but it is Sylvie. I am 24 years old. I had been married to my husband, Robert, for 3 years. I have 2 daughters, Diana and Elizabeth, ages 3 yrs and 11 months. If my visit to my doctor portends my expectations, the girls will become big sisters, again.
I lived comfortably in an upscale neighborhood just North of Denver, Colorado. My husband is a graduate of Stanford University and UC Boulder, etching his career as a bio chemist. I didn't work, as my husband provided plenty for us.
But my fairytale life that any little girl would hope to have come true, was far from it. Rather, the facade I put up as a moral, ethical, upstanding, millennial wife, is so far from truth, my story will boggle your mind.
Currently, in divorce proceedings, my marriage ended on, off all days, my 24th birthday, which was Valentines Day.
But first I need to afford you the backstory.
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I was born to David and Gretchen McDonald on February 14, 2000. I'm 5'2 120 lbs, brunette hair and hazel eyes. I wasn't blessed in the breast area, only being a 32B. Some say I resemble Emma Watson, but with longer hair.
My mother was born in Ipswich, a smallish borough about two and a half hours from London. Her parents, Lord and Lady Whitmer, were not royalty, by any stature, but because grandmum was the Queen's personal accountant, they became a part of the royal family, in a sense, and were blessed to be knighted. Granddad, a Major in the Royal Air Force, was very well regarded. Mum, was an only child so therefore, was spoiled.
Mum, was, what one would call, a wild child. She was rebellious, didn't take too well to the life granddad and grandmum were giving her, so when mummy was 19, she left for America.
My Auntie, lived in Bozeman, Montana, so mum moved in with her, to help start her life. Mummy did find work as a receptionist, which she worked at till she died.
Anyway she met daddy, who is a biker. You know, like Hells Angels type, with the blue jeans and the leather vests, Harley Davidson motorcycles? At the time daddy was 30 and mummy was 19. Having always had an affinity for "bad boys", she and daddy started dating, and when she got pregnant with me, they got married.
Talk about two vastly different lifestyles. Mummy always dressed 'like a lady', having been brought up that way by grandmum. Like dresses, skirts, blouses, heels, holdups, or sheer to waist stockings (pantyhose, in American lingo). She was 5'4 125 lbs.
Daddy, on the other hand, smoked cigarettes, had tattoos all over his body. Most of my life he was in an out of prison for various crimes, like attempted murder, assault, battery, and drug crimes. So, in a sense, daddy is not a good man. He is, today at 54 years old, 6'6 and almost 300 lbs. I mean there are plenty of biker types who are the kindest souls. Not daddy.
He's overweight, and just not what one would call a 'hunk'. Daddy is very intimidating, and would hurt anyone for whatever reason.
Granddad and grandmum would send mummy money that would take care of our rent, utilities and other things. Once granddad passed, grandmum would continue sending mummy about $7500 US every month. Daddy learned of this and would use a lot on drugs.
Daddy was not a good husband, as he would beat my mother. He got her into drugs and all, but mummy had been successfully clean for 10 years until she died 4 years ago. It was about 3 months before my wedding to Robert.
