I draw in another deep breath and still my trembling hands.
I’m free.
It’ll take a while to fully sink in, but I never have to hear him demand anything of me, or for him to rage at me about some imagined slight and tell me what a terrible, useless woman I am.
The woman who nurtured his children—the woman who kept his house.
Life will be tough for a while. I have an account I have access to with a small amount of money, but most of it is solely in Malcolm’s name. Thankfully there’s no mortgage, and Noah will help, but we’ll have to scrimp for a bit longer until probate goes through and the funds are released to me.
If I have to sell things, I will.
I’m not even sure what there is, but I do know I’ll own the house and Malcolm had investments—enough that he didn’t have to work.
The past couple of years he also qualified for a pension, and I’m sure he claimed that even though he didn’t need to.
Whatever it turns out to be, I’ll be able to start planning our future.
I’m not sure how this goes—starting again at forty-three, but I have my children and they’re safe.
That’s all that matters.
After dressing, I make my way downstairs and into the living room.
For a moment, I take in the sight of my children. They know something’s going on—and my girls, the older of the three, have probably guessed.
Bailey is the eldest at sixteen. Two years later, we had Kiera. I thought that was it, and we were done, but Malcolm had other ideas. Jason’s now seven.
I exchange a glance with Noah.
“Theres something I need to tell you all.”
Jason looks at me with worried eyes, the other two just stare.
“Your father passed away last night.”
Silence greets me. After everything we’ve been through, I’m not sure how they feel about this. Before his illness, he was a loving but strict father. But they’ve all seen his behaviour with me—with Noah—and after he became ill was a very different story.
The sicker he got, the worse he behaved. By the end, he was frustrated at being bedridden and often took it out on me with harsh words.
I did what I could to protect them from it, but there was only so much I could hide.
“He’s gone?” Jason whispers.
He throws himself into my arms, and I hold him tight.
Bailey and Kiera slump like they’re relieved it’s over. They probably are. This illness wasn’t fair on anyone—not Malcolm with the pain he was in, and not us dealing with his decline.
“Yes, baby.” I press a kiss in Jason’s hair and close my eyes.
“Is he … still here?” he asks.
“No.” I let out a long breath. “You were all asleep last night when it happened. I thought it better to deal with then, rather than this morning.”
I open my eyes and Bailey’s gaze fixes on mine. “We all slept through it?”
“You did.”
She shifts her gaze to her little brother. “Good. I’m glad he’s gone.”
