Page 82 of Rulebreaker
“That’s fine. It’s no secret I’m going to see him. Just move past them. And call ahead to make sure security keeps them out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I keep my head down as we glide through the gate of Stan’s massive compound.
I haven’t lived here in a long time but I still remember my awe the first time we drove through the gate. I was truly a wide-eyed innocent from bumfuck Texas, experiencing a whole new world. I truly thought living in a big house like this, with my rich, established husband, was the answer to all my dreams.
There’s no one dumber than a broke, naive country girl.
Eighteen-year-old me was such a dumbass.
“Ms. Maxwell.” Stan’s longtime housekeeper Dora greets me at the door. “It’s good to see you.”
“Thank you, Dora.” I meet her gaze wearily. “How is he?”
She shakes her head. “Not good. The doctor says it will be any time now. Would you like to see him?”
Not really.
“Of course.” I nod, putting down my things and following her to the solarium. It used to be Stan’s favorite room in the house, and when he got sick, we transformed it into his bedroom.
When the early-onset dementia hit, it was brutal. One day he was fine and the next Dora found him wandering around the yard naked, looking for the bathroom. We’d just separated when it happened, and at that point, he was in no condition forany kind of legal battle. So the only humane thing to do was wait out the prenup.
His attorney and longtime friend refused to budge on that, so even though I’ve handled almost all of Stan’s expenses and care the last eight years, I still couldn’t get a divorce without losing half of my earnings–and I’ll be damned if I let the money-hungry friend who’s inheriting his estate take half of everything I’ve worked my ass off to have.
The man on the bed is unrecognizable–pale and gaunt, with tufts of unkempt white hair on his head.
Sweet Jesus, is this the same man I married a decade ago?
The thing is, he’s not a bad person. He treated me well and I wouldn’t be where I am without him. We both understood our marriage was a mistake relatively soon, so he didn’t argue when I asked for a separation. The plan was for him to continue managing my career and we would eventually make a decision about the marriage.
Neither of us expected him to get sick and for the type of dementia he has to work so fast. There was no time for us to discuss contingencies, his mental capacity diminished that quickly. Leaving me to carry the burden of both our marriage and his care.
Originally, we kept the marriage a secret because it was better for my career for me to be the sweet, single, up and coming twenty-year-old country singer. A husband, especially one forty years my senior, would ruin the image we wanted to portray, and Stan was nothing if not a savvy businessman.
And now he’s been reduced to nothing but a shell of who he once was.
No family to speak of, never had children, and about to die alone.
Except for the wife who left him.
I sink into the chair next to his bed and the hospice nurse quietly slips out.
“Hi, Stan,” I say softly, reaching for one of his hands and holding it between both of mine. “It’s me, Lily. How are you? Silly question, I guess.” I gently stroke the back of his hand, wondering if he has any awareness at all or if he’s already essentially gone.
Sadness creeps in, settling over me like a dark, heavy blanket.
Someday, this could be me.
Alone.
No one to love or take care of me beyond doctors and nurses. No kids or spouse at my side. Not even any friends. Stan devoted his life to work and now that the end is imminent, he has nothing to show for it except a young protege who couldn’t love him and a money-hungry attorney just waiting for him to die.
It’s incredibly unfair.
And it occurs to me that if I continue to prioritize my career, I could end up the same way.
I thought Atlas would change my future but I should have known better. It seems like romantic happiness has never been in the cards for me.
