I married a man decades older than me because I believed he could give my children the stability I couldn’t.
At thirty, I was raising two kids alone—a kindergartner and a second grader. Their father had disappeared not long after our daughter was born, and I had no idea where he’d gone.
I worked full-time as an accountant, but it was never enough. We were always just scraping by, one unexpected expense away from everything falling apart.
And I was exhausted.
So when Richard came into my life promising security, I said yes.
I married someone old enough to be my father.
One afternoon, I left my kids with a babysitter to attend an important meeting at work. That was where I met him.
Richard was one of the company’s founders—calm, composed, never raising his voice. The kind of man who seemed completely in control.
We started with polite conversation, but I noticed how attentively he listened. It was different from anyone else.
It didn’t take long to realize he was interested in me.
