“Then why didn’t I?”
“Because he wasn’t pretending every minute.”
I wiped my face.
“He really was kind sometimes,” she continued. “People like Richard aren’t monsters every hour of every day. If they were, no one would stay.”
“I still feel foolish.”
“I know. But being lonely after losing Andrew wasn’t a character flaw.”
That sentence followed me for days.
Then neighbors began asking whether I was feeling overwhelmed.
A client emailed to ask whether I planned to retire.
An acquaintance gently suggested I reduce my workload.
Richard was not merely defending himself.
He was quietly preparing everyone around me to doubt my memory.
Some payments had gone to Sloane’s school and car. Others had gone to Richard’s company, a commercial lender, and an account identified only by two initials.
Helen closed the folder gently.
“You need an attorney,” she said.
As she spoke, I remembered the furnace repair I had postponed, the physical therapy sessions I had canceled, and every time Richard had told me Sloane’s education had to come first.
For the first time, I wondered whether Sloane’s education had ever been the real priority.
