The Bad Husband

Chapter 1

LILA

“The house looks like a mausoleum,” I murmur, lips pressed to my phone, my cell tucked between my cheek and my shoulder, my head tilted to the side as I do my best to keep my voice low while staring out the window at the road snaking through the large southern estate.

Clusters of trees––Southern Magnolia, Live Oak, Bald Cypress, and occasionally Red Maple guard the beautifully manicured landscape.

I knew he was rich, but that rich?

She hit the jackpot with this one. Or should I say she hit the jackpot again after inheriting a good chunk of my late father’s money. Money she hasn’t collected yet.

The driver largely ignores my conversation with Keira, my best friend, keeping his eyes pinned on the road.

My friend and I have been on the phone for the past thirty minutes. Not once have I not bitched about my new life and the strain the clause in my father’s will has put on me.

“It’s like a pharaonic tomb,” I drone on with casual humor, making my best friend giggle at the other end of the line.

“You’re nuts.”

She coughs and laughs, choking.

“You’ll see for yourself,” I say, unamused this time.

“I won’t visit you at their place. I can’t stand Henrietta.”

“Can’t blame you. Who can stand that hairy rat?”

I laugh quietly.

“Her new husband, obviously,” she replies. “Is she still upset about your not attending the wedding?”

“She doesn’t care. She just wants to make sure we adhere by the silly conditions stipulated in my father’s will, which luckily doesn’t mention anything about me going to her wedding.

Poor guy. It didn’t even cross his mind that she’d get married so soon after his death.

Had he thought about that, he would’ve asked his lawyer to redraw his will. ”

Sighing, I ponder, yet again, how we all got here.

Henrietta ‘the closeted gold digger’ Jones and now Jones-West has been bad news since she ran into my father in one of his casinos a few years back.

God blessed his soul. He was the kind of guy who genuinely believed that a woman who squeezed herself into a crimson dress to show off her round-and-firm-like-cantaloupes breasts and a narrow waist that could only be accomplished with the surgical removal of a few ribs could only find solace after a nasty breakup in one of his casinos.

Nothing clued him in.

Not the way she batted her eyelashes at him and played a damsel in distress with big teary eyes, a mane of shiny dark hair, and legs up to her chin.

Now I know why my late mother had warned me about him having a weakness for this type of woman.

I never wanted to believe her.

My parents started out as teachers. They were hard-working people, law-abiding citizens, and good parents.

They had me a little late in life after saving up a little bit of money to offer me a decent life.

I was barely a teen when my father unexpectedly inherited a nice sum of money from his parents, who both perished in a car accident.

With that came the advice of a friend who compelled him to get into the casino business with him.

My father may have been good with numbers since he was an excellent math teacher, but he knew little about working with people.

He and his friend ran their enterprise successfully for a while, making a ton of money, which in turn made me some type of heiress, I suppose. No one had thought about that, though, before my family ran out.

My mother fell ill and passed soon after, shattering our world.

Afraid he might lose everything before he could correct course, my father cashed out and put the money into a trust in my name, which was my mother’s last wish.

He seemingly meant well when he added a conditional clause in his will.

Since they both worked hard before they became rich and knew how important working was in forging one’s character, they wanted me to follow the same path.

Learn how to make a living and manage my finances first before touching any of that money.

They wanted me to go to college, work a variety of jobs, make something of myself, and only take possession of my inheritance after graduation.

It was good thinking, wasn’t it?

What neither of them could’ve predicted was that my father would meet this new woman shortly after my mother’s death and right before he sold his business.

Henrietta had just broken up with her billionaire boyfriend and was looking for a shoulder to cry on.

My father proposed to her rather quickly before tying me to her in his infinite wisdom.

The conditions stipulated in his will brought me where I am today.

He thought that if anything bad had happened to him, I’d need an adult in my life.

How this woman earned his trust is beyond my understanding. I can’t fathom what made him think that she was the responsible adult I could rely on.

His conditions were simply stated.

He wanted me to spend the summer at her place if something happened to him. He wanted me to live with her, provided I was still in college.

And here we are.

He passed last winter after a sudden cardiac event, and now I’m stuck with her. I’ll graduate next year, which can’t come soon enough.

No matter how gently I’d brought it up to him, I could never convince him that she wasn’t the woman he believed she was.

I’ve never seen a more gullible, trustful man, and as much as I had loved him, I couldn’t stop resenting him for doing such a stupid thing.

For bringing her into our house, and then tying us to each other in the eventuality of his death.

She and I can’t see eye to eye.

For one, I know who she is. And then, the feeling is mutual, and for a good reason.

She can only receive the money that my father left her after I get mine.

As if things weren’t bad enough, soon after his death, she found herself a new man. Most likely someone like her.

Cruel, ruthless, and with a shady past.

She must be after this man’s money, too, and there must be a reason the man married her so quickly.

He knew nothing about her.

Two things were obvious, though. She was a widow and about to inherit a good chunk of money.

“You know… She’s never talked about her wedding after I declined her invitation,” I murmur thoughtfully.

Henrietta didn’t want me to attend the ceremony, although I received an invitation like everybody else.

I should’ve at least pretended to be interested in participating.

Frankly, I don’t know much about her new life.

All I know is that she and her husband spent their honeymoon in the Bahamas after a late March wedding at his vacation home in Upstate New York––a vast log home surrounded by guesthouses, each equipped with a Swedish spa.

He’s not Swedish, but he must be a good actor like her. Eccentric things must be his brand.

I never met the guy and consider myself lucky.

This house––the one I like to call the pharaonic tomb, despite being one of the most beautiful estates in the south––is big enough to never run into him or his wife.

In the meantime, I’m enjoying the perks that come with her new life, like this limo.

My father may have been wide-eyed in her presence, and simple-minded to a fault, but I’m nothing like him.

I know not to trust anyone, especially a woman who has made a career out of burying her husbands.

At thirty-one, she just scored her third husband.

Needless to say, I have zero sympathy for him.

“Why wouldn’t you come to visit me? The place is really nice,” I murmur, a shred of irony in my voice.

“Please,” Keira laughs. “I loathe those people. I’d rather have you crash at my place. We could catch up after work, eat pizza, and talk about normal stuff like boyfriends and their wandering dicks.”

The driver might’ve caught what she just said as he tilts his eyes to the rearview mirror.

I shush her, and we both laugh.

It’s been a while since I hooked up with someone.

Actually, I’ve only been with one guy. Not the greatest story. Not the greatest ending, either.

It wasn’t my intention to become celibate after that.

My life was so busy that I didn’t find the time to go out and start dating again. To be fair, there may have been a smidgen of reluctance on my part.

The guy was my first, and maybe we weren’t a great fit––or perhaps I intimidated him as he had claimed––but my first sexual experience really sucked.

We made out a lot, but never got to the point where we would do the actual thing the way we were supposed to.

Sweaty, hungry for each other, chasing highs, and doing it again, and again.

In my defense, I always went for the good guys. I like good guys. The nice, sweet, timid even men.

Daniel made for a great friend, but once we hooked up, things started to change rapidly, and we ended up with a ruined friendship and a not-so-good intimate relationship.

Keira convinced me it happens a lot. I’m not so sure about that.

One thing I know, though. I’m not done with the sweet, charming guys. I’m naturally attracted to them.

I like them to be ‘intimidated’ by me, although I don’t do anything to intimidate them, not on purpose, anyway.

The good thing is that Keira and I are both working this summer, so yeah, why not hook up with someone new?

She couldn’t get a steady guy the entire year, and I just tripped over myself every time I wanted to find someone.

So we made a bet.

Whoever gets laid first buys dinner.

We’re two badass women with a plan, or so we’d like to think.

“Okay,” I say, my laughter fading as we inch closer to what looks like the majestic driveway wrapped around a lavish fountain in front of a Southern-style mansion with porch columns.

“I just arrived,” I say, my brow creasing, my eyes narrowing.

“I’ll be damn,” I go on, perhaps too impressed by what sprawls out in front of me.

LILA

People can be so silly sometimes. And by people I mean me, I muse, stepping out of the car and staring at the house.

My family and I lived nicely in a ludicrously expensive house in New York, but that house looked like a guesthouse next to this.

While it was well-maintained and had a historic vibe, it lacked the charm this house has.

The white columns and steps.

The porch and the wide windows.

The fine gravel driveway, and fountain water catching the afternoon light.