Chapter 6
WILLIAM
Nikita came every day without fail, despite my refusals and atrocious mood swings.
I was an unbridled, emotional mess, going from straight up screaming to not saying a word, then hardly daring to breathe at all. Still, she didn’t let up.
That was such a morning, as I sat on the couch staring into the void of nothingness, when she barged into my house, veering straight for the kitchen.
We weren’t intimate. Hardly even spoke. She was bulldozing into my space, trying to take on the caring role when I just wanted to be left alone. Yet I couldn’t find the energy to deal with her; I’d barely managed to clothe myself that morning.
The thick aroma of a delicious roast soon filled the house, making the rooms feel more whole, rather than soulless and empty.
That was when a knock sounded from the front door. I didn’t twitch, happy to ignore the intrusion like I usually did—until Nikita took it upon herself to answer.
I could hear distant murmurings, which seemed to draw nearer when she led a middle-aged man in front of me who sported an expensive three-piece suit that matched his grey, slicked-back hair.
His eyes ran down my frame, pity shining in their depths as he took in my dishevelled state. “I apologise for coming to your home like this, but I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for a month. You’re William Richards?”
I waved an errant hand in the air. “What’s left of him. Who are you, and why are you here?”
“My name is Thomas. I was your wife’s attorney. I’m here to discuss her will.”
As soon as Nikita excused herself, Thomas and I relocated to the dining table, where he spread out all manner of documents.
He appeared professional, high-end, affluent, and I just fucking knew that this had something to do with my long-lost in-laws.
When he finished setting up, Thomas sat across from me, pulling out some spectacles to push over his nose. “Is your son around? This involves Colton Richards too.”
I cleared my coarse throat. “He’s away in college at the moment. I can pass on any vital information.” Let’s get this fucking over with.
Thomas gave a nod and jumped right in. “With Bethany’s life insurance, you will be able to clear your mortgage and the debt from your mechanic business—”
I began to shake my head. We had discussed that in detail before she passed, and I didn’t want her to waste money on me. I wanted everything to go to Colt. When I said as much, Thomas pushed a folder my way.
“She made contingencies for Colton.”
I opened it to the first page, then kept on sifting through the papers. Bethany had made a trust fund with money she received from her parents, worth $2.2 million dollars.
My lungs seized. Not from the amount of money, but more so that she hadn’t told me about it. I was blindsided.
Bethany came from generational wealth; the Tems family were rich beyond comprehension. However, with that background came the predicted prejudice.
At the tender age of nineteen, I had been driving home in a second-hand, busted-down truck—my pride and joy—and happened to catch a damsel in distress, her pristine convertible broken down on the side of the road.
Being foolhardy and young, I stopped. I flirted. I fell head over heels in love… and so did she. Bethany was nothing like her family, open to new experiences and genuinely wanting me despite my lack of funds or social standing.
However, her parents’ disapproval was staunch and longstanding, which eventually came to a head before our wedding. They offered me money to leave, and threatened her inheritance if she didn’t. It was the final act that made us cut contact altogether.
I was now questioning everything with this new revelation. Until I came to a personal envelope addressed to me, written in my late wife’s hand.
My dear husband,
I know this may come as a surprise, but please let me explain. I want you to get the full picture before you denounce anything.
As you’ve found out by now, I took a down payment from my parents, under the guise that I would leave you and return back to them.
Please believe that it was never my intention. I was so angry and heartbroken with the ultimatum that I wanted to cause them hurt in return.
I’m sorry I kept this secret from you, my sweetheart. I was scared... and knew that you would take that as a sign of me second-guessing our love, our marriage. NEVER.
Over the years, I did not spend a penny, not wanting to betray you even further.
So, I created a trust fund for our son. Colton is the sole beneficiary, and you are the trustee of the account until he turns twenty-five years old—as I know you will guide him into becoming a responsible, courteous gentleman who we are both proud of.
With my life insurance and this trust fund, I can now rest easy, knowing that my boys are well taken care of. I regret nothing of our life, and I will choose you in every one that follows.
Find happiness and live, sweetheart.
Until we meet again,
Your Bethy
My sense of urgency was renewed, wanting to tell Colton about the generous gift his mother had left him. But despite my best efforts, I made no headway.
I’d bought multiple devices and blew up his phone via calls, texts, emails and social media.
I was desperate to hear from my boy, even if that meant I had to cop his scathing words and accusations. I’d take it all. But Colton was nothing but efficient, blocking my every attempt with accurate precision.
The worst day was when I called his college directly to try and get anything on him. They shut that down quickly, informing me I was not on his student contact list, so legally, they couldn’t pass on any information. I wasn’t even considered an emergency contact.
I was at my wits’ end, internal darkness threatening to take me down, down, down. News of this magnitude deserved to be discussed in person, and that was what I intended to do.
Packing a suitcase, I was going to track down my son.