The day Richard’s lawyer came to my door, I thought he had come to tell me how much money my husband had left me.
I was wrong.
“Richard left you nothing,” the lawyer said.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
I stared at the man standing in my doorway, his leather briefcase resting beside his leg.
“Nothing?”
He nodded.
My hands began to tremble.
Five years earlier, I had married a seventy-two-year-old millionaire while I was a thirty-five-year-old widow drowning in debt and trying desperately to keep a roof over my daughter’s head.
For five years, I had wondered why a man like Richard had chosen a woman like me.
He never asked me to repay him.
He never treated me like a charity case.
He never demanded that I become someone I wasn’t.
He loved my daughter, Emily, as if she were his own.
And now he was dead.