The same woman who treated me like a gold digger now whispered:
“I was wrong.”
But I left anyway.
I stayed with a friend for three days and turned off my phone.
On the fourth day I finally returned home.
William was still there.
He was sitting on the couch, wearing a cheap blue shirt we had bought together.
No expensive watch.
No driver.
No children.
Only him.
“Why are you still here?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Because this is the first home in decades where someone has loved me for who I am, not what I have.”
I sat down next to him.
Then I set him one condition.
“No more tests. No more secret plans. No more proving I’m worthy of you.”
He agreed.
I also set a condition for his children.
“You don’t have to love me. But if I’m to be a part of your father’s life, you will never treat me like a thief again.”
Diane was the first to apologize.
Then James.
Then Robert.
Later William wanted us to move into his huge house.
I refused.
“If you want to be with me, we’ll spend half the week here.”
