No one came for me. There was no one left to ask.
There was a fifty-year age gap between us.
At the reception, I was reaching for a glass of champagne when a woman in pale blue stepped into my path. It was Angela, one of Rick’s daughters. She touched my elbow with two fingers and smiled without warmth.
“You’ve moved very quickly,” she said. “My father has always enjoyed rescuing strays.”
I took a sip of champagne. “Then I hope this family is finally house-trained.”
She looked shocked. “Excuse me?”
Rick appeared beside me before I could answer. “Angela, if you can’t manage decency for one evening, please be silent.”
“Excuse me?”
Her face tightened. “I was only welcoming her.”
“No,” he said. “You were auditioning for my disappointment. As usual.”
She let out a breath through her nose and walked off.
We drove to the estate after dark. I barely spoke. Rick didn’t push.
***
In the bedroom, I stood before a mirror and stared at myself in that dress. I didn’t look beautiful. I looked arranged, expensive… and temporary.
The door opened behind me.
“I was only welcoming her.”
Rick stepped in, closed it softly, and the room went quiet. Then he said, “Layla, now that you’re my wife… I can finally tell you the truth. It’s too late to walk away.”
My hands went cold.
“Rick, what does that mean?”
He looked at me. “It means you were wrong about why I asked you.”
I turned to face him fully. “Then tell me.”
“It’s too late to walk away.”
He didn’t move closer. “I am dying, Layla.”
“What?”
“My heart,” he said. “Maybe months. A year, if the Lord is feeling theatrical.”
I gripped the back of a chair. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because,” he said quietly, “my family has spent years circling my death like shoppers outside a store. Last spring, my own son tried to have me declared mentally diminished.”
“I am dying, Layla.”
I stared at him. “Your own son?”
“Yes. David.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Everything.” Rick nodded toward the folder on the bedside table. “Open it.”
I did.
Inside were transfers, legal drafts, and notes in his handwriting.
“Your own son?”
There were donations promised and never sent. Employees pushed out quietly. And Violet’s mother’s hospital bills covered by Rick while Angela and David took the credit. Then I reached the estate plan.
My mouth went dry. “Rick…”
“After I die,” he said, “part of the company and the charitable foundation go to you.”
I dropped the folder onto the bed. “No.”
“Yes, Layla. It’s the only way.”
“No. Your family already thinks I’m a gold digger, Rick. Imagine when they find out.”
Then I reached the estate plan.
“They thought that before you put on the ring.”
“They’ll destroy me.”
He held my gaze. “Only if you let them.”
I laughed once, sharp and shaky. “Why me?”
“Because you notice what other people step over. Who gets ignored. Who gets used. People who’ve been unwanted usually do.”
“I thought I was the desperate one in this marriage.”
Rick lowered himself into the chair by the fire. “No. Just honest.”
“They’ll destroy me.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“You would’ve run,” he said. “And I needed time to prove I wasn’t offering you a cage.”
“So what now?”
“Now they’ll try to put you in your place. This marriage was about giving you security, too. You’ll get that.”
***
