Widow's Undoing (Ruthless Sinners MC 4)

“Yes, sir. We will handle it. Not only will he be grounded until the end of time, but I’m also going to find him a counselor...a really good one.”

“I’d suggest Dr. Archer. I’ve known several families who’ve had a great deal of success with him. He seems to be great in situations like these. Just let him know I sent you, and hopefully, he can get you in pretty quickly.”

“Oh, wow. Thank you. I’ll definitely do that.”

“Good deal. You can come pick him up at the station on Third.”

“Thank you so much! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I hadn’t even hung up the phone when I grabbed my keys and raced for the door. As I drove over to the station, I took a moment to reflect on my life and the choices I’d made. I’ll admit I had my doubts about whether or not leaving my ex-husband was the right thing to do.

Anyone who thinks life gets better, easier, after divorce is wrong—bad wrong. Divorce isn’t some grand escape from an unwanted life. It isn’t a ‘get out of jail free’ card. Divorce is hard. It’s a monster that lurks in the shadows and pounces when you least expect it. It will pull at you. It will break your heart and make you doubt yourself at every turn. And just when you think it can’t get any worse—when you have nothing left to give, it will come back for more. Divorce doesn’t care if you’ve done everything right. It doesn’t care if you were a dedicated, faithful spouse and doting parent. It also doesn’t care that you’re the one who screwed everything up and caused the demise of the marriage. The details don’t matter. No one is spared from the hurt. No one.

I learned this the hard way. After years of being mentally and physically abused by my husband, I finally packed up my two sons and left. I thought it was the only way I could save my boys from a lifetime of heartache and abuse. I thought by leaving I was protecting them, giving them a chance at a normal life, but I quickly learned that I hadn’t saved them at all. Their narcissistic, abusive father didn’t magically disappear. He didn’t step away and allow us to have a life without him in it. Oh no. There was no way in hell he’d give us up like that. Not because he loved and adored us. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Marc was a prideful man who saw us as his possessions. Even though he hadn’t taken care of his possessions, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of letting us go. In fact, he was determined to keep his hold on us tight—especially where the boys were concerned. We spent months in and out of court—each of us sharing our reasons for the demise of our marriage. I’d hoped the judge would see that his abusive nature was detrimental to the boy’s wellbeing, but no such luck. This particular judge believed that no matter how awful their father was, the boys needed him in their lives. After it was all said and done, he ordered Marc to attend anger management classes for six months, thinking that was all he needed to become a positive role model in their lives. He was wrong. Oh boy, was his wrong.

Even after months and months of counseling, Marc was still the same short-tempered asshole he’d always been—if not more so. The anger management classes seemed to make that chip on his shoulder even bigger, and just like before, the man never thought he was wrong about anything. Whenever things didn’t go his way, he jumped at the chance to blame me. He was really something. No matter how big or small, if something went wrong he’d find a way to make it my fault.

The same held true when I called to let him know about what had happened with Corry. Even though I dreaded even talking to him, I didn’t have a choice. I had to let him know. As soon as we returned from the police station, I sent Corry to his room, and I went out to the garage. After I dialed his number, I took out a cigarette from my secret stash and quickly lit it, taking a few quick puffs as I waited for him to answer. I rarely smoked, only when I was super stressed, and I was always sure to keep it hidden from the kids. It was my one true vice, and why I’d chosen to make my call to Marc in the garage.

As soon as he answered, I said, “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you about Corry.”

“Okay...What about him?”

“Well, um...he got into some trouble this afternoon.” I took a quick puff from my cigarette and tried to brace myself for his reaction when I said, “He and his friends were caught trying to buy a THC vape pod from an undercover policeman.”