I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Mr Walters. He was my father’s right-hand man for almost twenty years.
“My condolences, Keira. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
I nodded. My father spoke highly of Mr Walters, who helped him run his consulting business. My father arrived in the U.S. as a young man from Poland, seeking a better life.
He ended up in Texas, working at an oil reserve. He was an extremely hard worker who came up through the ranks during his first fifteen years in the industry. At age forty, my father started his business, consulting for oil reserves in the U.S. Several years into his consultancy, his business had spread across the world.
He had built up the business to thirty full-time employees in the U.S., with another fifteen part-time employees scattered across the globe.
The company had an annual turnover of ten million dollars. Due to the nature of the business, my late father’s company had a high profit-to-sales ratio as the main overheads were salaries and travel expenses.
After building the business for almost three decades, my father sold it for one hundred million dollars to a major corporation, a few months before he passed away. I wish he had sold it sooner so that he could enjoy the fruits of his hard labour. The sale was featured in a prominent business publication.
Daddy was a wonderful man. His employees praised him, and his friends spoke highly of him. My dream was to marry a kind and compassionate man like him. He taught me to treat everyone with respect, regardless of their socio-economic standing.
Daddy also said that a fool parts ways with his money. He lived way below his means but always paid the bill when out with his friends and clients. Daddy also mentioned the importance of giving to charity.
Two days after the funeral, Daddy’s lawyer called me. He explained to me that legal procedures are lengthy and that I should be patient.
I walked into each room in the house and reminisced about seeing Daddy read in the library, work in his office and sit on the edge of the bed in the master bedroom and admire the painting of him and Mom when they were young. Mom passed away when I was three years old. I wish I had gotten to know her. Daddy said she was a remarkable woman.
The five-bedroom house felt completely empty. I guess, it was. What a difference one person made to my life. Daddy and I could’ve lived in a one-bedroom apartment, and I would’ve been happy. Now, a mansion isn’t so glamorous anymore. It’s true what they say—a family makes a house a home.
Since I want my own family, I’ll have to expedite my efforts. But I’m so distraught by Daddy’s passing that I’m not in the right state of mind to present myself in a positive light to any man. Who would find me attractive now, considering I’m an emotional mess?
On Friday, I had to go to the supermarket to get groceries. I considered staying in and ordering food because I wasn’t in the mood to go anywhere. But I forced myself to get out of the house to expose myself to different energies.
I filled up the cart to the top so that I had enough food for, at least, a week. I wasn’t certain that I’d eat half of it because of the lack of appetite.
As I pushed the cart towards the till, a packet of macaroni slid out and fell onto the floor. A man with light-brown hair bent over and picked it up. He smiled at me and handed me the macaroni.
“Here you go,” he said in a French accent.
“Thank you.”
He looked at the cart and said, “That’s a lot of food. Your husband will be grateful for stuffing him like a turkey, as you Americans say.”
His comment cracked my facade, making my lips curl slightly. “No husband. Just me.”
“I can’t believe. A beautiful woman like you must have many men chasing her.”
“Not as many as you’d think. But thank you for the compliment. That’s kind of you.”
“I am being serious. You are too beautiful.”
The sincere look in his eyes made me lower my gaze and smile. I couldn’t remember the last time I was that bashful. Maybe it was his accent that made me flush.
Smiling, I raised my eyes and met his before extending my hand. “I’m Keira.”
He grabbed my hand gently, raised it to his mouth and softly kissed it. While looking at me and still holding my hand up, he said, “It is wonderful to meet you, Keira. I am Raphael.”
“Pleasure to meet you. I presume you’re from France.”
“Yes. I arrived here a few weeks ago.”
“Interesting. What brings you to the U.S.?”
“I’d love to tell you the details. Perhaps, we can go for coffee?”
“Sure. Let me pay, and I’ll meet you outside.”
The old lady at the till scanned each product slowly, making me believe that Raphael would be gone by the time I exited the store. Surprisingly, he waited.
He pushed my cart to my car and then packed the bags into the boot. Only Daddy would’ve done a generous gesture like that for me. I miss him so much.
During the coffee date, Raphael told me that he was an artist. He left Paris to seek better opportunities in the States, much like my father. Although, I figured that Paris was the perfect place for an artist to advance his career.
When I asked him about his wife, he said that he didn’t have one. He mentioned being engaged in France, but the wedding didn’t take place. Not wanting to pry into his personal affairs, I didn’t ask about the reason.
The following day, Raphael called and asked me to join him for dinner. I figured that was a better option than moping around the house. Raphael picked me up and took me to a fancy restaurant.
The diamond chandeliers hovering above the twisted staircase that led to the private lounge got my attention. Most of the men dressed in suits, and the women wore dresses. Had I known about the dress code, I would’ve been more formal.
After dinner, a few couples took to the dancefloor and waltzed while the band played ballroom music. Raphael stood up, walked to my side of the table and then extended his arm. I smiled and grabbed his hand.
We smiled at each other while moving around the dancefloor, our faces mere centimetres apart. I had never felt more like a lady than in that moment. By being a complete gentleman, Raphael tapped into a side of me that made me feel unbelievably special. No one had made me feel that way.
During the drive home, Raphael told me that he thought I looked magnificent. That was so sweet of him to say. Before the date, I didn’t believe that anything would cheer me up, but Raphael proved me wrong. Maybe, he’s just what I needed to get me through the gloomy period.
On the second date, Raphael took me to a park. He bought us ice cream, and we sat on a bench and watched the children on the jungle gym. They looked adorable, and Raphael said that he would love to have three children. I do, too.
He made me forget about grieving, causing me to feel slightly guilty because my father’s passing was recent. Then again, I had plenty of time to grieve over Daddy. It was nice to have my spirits boosted every once in a while. And Raphael had done an amazing job at that.
Although I enjoyed the first date, sitting at a park with Raphael prompted me to believe that I would have a great time with him, regardless of where we were.
He pulled up to my house. We smiled at each other, and he leaned in slowly. I closed my eyes and then felt his soft lips against mine. He held my chin while kissing me. Even the kiss made me feel like a lady. He wasn’t sleazy and didn’t try to grope me. It was, actually, very romantic.
On the third date, we made our relationship official. Raphael told me that he believed he was meant to spend the rest of his life with me. I felt the same about him. I was flooded with so many emotions, which I surrendered to.
After being together for six months, Raphael asked me how I felt about getting married. I felt that it was too soon because of Daddy’s death. It would’ve felt inappropriate to celebrate.
A year into our relationship, Raphael mentioned marriage again. I told him that I would speak to my pastor to get his take. After speaking to him, I decided that we could wed.
We had a small, intimate wedding with our closest friends. Raphael had only two guests. He said that his family in France couldn’t make it. I felt bad for him, but he said that he was fine with it. I saw that it bothered him. I was sad that Daddy didn’t walk me down the aisle. But we focused on our union and spending the rest of our lives together.
We honeymooned in St. Barts. It was magical. After we spent the entire first day on the beach, we went back to our room.
Raphael got on top of me and kissed my neck before kissing in between my breasts and then lowering his face to my pussy. His tongue twisted in every direction and even went inside of me. That got me so hot. As he continued, I clenched the sheets, arched my back, closed my eyes and moaned.
I was pleasantly surprised when he nibbled on my toe. Nobody had done that before. It was kind of kinky, and I liked it.
Raphael lay beside me. My back faced him, and I looked over my shoulder before he kissed me. He raised my right leg and stuck his dick inside of me. He thrust while kissing me. His lips lowered to my shoulders as he fondled my breasts.
A few minutes later, Raphael lay on the bed, and I got on top of him. I arched my back slightly, pressing my hands on his legs behind me while jumping on top of him. My breasts bounced, and he held my waist. I loved that his dick went all the way up inside me. It felt so good.
My heart was beating much faster than usual, and I breathed heavily out of my mouth. Eventually, I felt sweat beads on my forehead. It was hot in the room, but I was definitely exerting myself while bouncing on my husband’s dick.
After some time, I got off Raphael and then onto my hands and knees. He kneeled behind me and gave it to me doggystyle. It was so hot. I perked my bum up while lowering my head to the pillow. Raphael spanked my bum several times and then grabbed my waist. He thrust fast, my mouth agape as I screamed.
He gave it to me so hard that I was completely shaking, my head rattling and looking like it would snap off my shoulders.
When Raphael slowed down, I used the opportunity to catch my breath. I lay on my stomach, and he laid on top of me and kissed my shoulders and back. That part was, actually, my favourite.
We honeymooned for another three days and then went home. I was eager to start our lives together.
A week after we returned, I went to the supermarket. I wanted to surprise my husband with a lasagne when he got home.
It took me about three hours to make it. I couldn’t wait for Raphael to get home so that he could try my dish, made with love.
At three pm, he still wasn’t at home. Strange. I called his phone, but he didn’t pick up. I wondered what he was doing.
Two hours later, I called again. Still, no answer. I began to worry. Something definitely wasn’t right. But I didn’t know what to do. Should I have called the police? And tell them what?
I called Mr Walters and told him about the situation. He said that he knew a man who could help and that he would call me the following day.
I received a call from Mr Walters’ associate. I was flabbergasted at what he told me. Although he had no reason to lie to me, I didn’t want to accept the truth.
A week later, a letter arrived at the house. Raphael had served me with the divorce papers. I wasn’t surprised, considering what I knew about him.
On Tuesday, I received the papers from the court. Our case was scheduled five weeks from that day.
In court, Raphael’s lawyer insisted that I had more money than him and he had none because he had recently immigrated to the States and then had spent his money on rent before he moved into my house.
The judge looked at my papers and saw that I had nothing to my name. The money for the sale of Daddy’s business had still remained in the trust fund. Prior to getting married, I had instructed my lawyer to keep it there and not continue with the proceedings because I didn’t want the money in my name until Raphael proved himself as a husband.
I also postponed the probate proceedings to keep the house in Daddy’s name for the same reason. Daddy taught me that a fool parts with his money. Luckily, I was smart enough to keep the money safe, but I should’ve run a background check on Raphael before marrying him.
I got caught up in the emotions at the time we met, and he helped me get through a difficult period in my life.
“Mr Claude, I have reviewed your ex-wife’s possessions, and I see that she doesn’t have any,” said the judge.
Raphael and his lawyer looked at each other, both of them gobsmacked. One slimeball always manages to find another slimeball.
The judge added, “Since your ex-wife is unemployed and has no possessions to her name, I’m granting her a five thousand dollar monthly alimony payment from you for the next ten years. The payments will cease only if she remarries within those ten years. Failure to pay will result in jail time.”
“But, your Honour, I do not have the money.”
“Court is adjourned.”
Outside the courtroom, Raphael approached me. “We need to talk, Keira.”
“About?”
“This ridiculous payment.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. The judge’s decision is final.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“You did it to yourself. We could’ve had a wonderful life together, basked in a fountain of wealth. But you never loved me.”
“What are you talking about? I married you. Of course, I loved you.”
“Spare me the lies. I know about Antonella.”
His eyes broadened. “I told you about her.”
“You didn’t tell me her name. My private investigator did. He also told me that you left her at the altar after you stole her diamond necklace and crown. You also took gold jewellery as well before you fled France. I got in touch with Antonella, by the way. She and I have something in common. We were both targeted by a scammer. My P.I. told me that you target women with money and that our meeting at the supermarket wasn’t coincidental. You had planned it after doing extensive research on my father’s company and his family. It’s how you operate.”
“Forget about Antonella. That is in the past.”
“To you, it is because you get what you want from women and then leave them. But they are left with the sorrow of losing their precious possessions and having their heart broken. You don’t care about that.”
“That’s not true, Keira.”
“I know that the reason your parents didn’t attend our wedding is because they disowned you for disgracing the family name. Even that wasn’t enough for you to change. Instead, you galavanted here and tried to take the money that my father worked for decades. He was an honest, hard-working and trustworthy man. That’s not part of your character. Just so you know, because of this awful experience I had with you, I won’t be getting married any time soon. So I’m looking forward to the alimony payments for the next ten years.”
“But how do you expect me to pay?”
“I guess, you’ll have to get an honest job, probably for the first time in your life.”
I thought about telling Raphael that I would transfer the monthly payments to Antonella to reimburse her for her jewellery, but he didn’t need to know that.
The following day, I called Antonella and told her about my intentions. She was grateful, and she told me that she had instructed her lawyer to contact the judge in my case and tell him about Raphael’s history.
A few days later, my lawyer informed me that the judge had confiscated Raphael’s passport because he was a flight risk. If he wanted to travel outside of the country, he would have to get a special permit from the judge.
Justice was served. Pity that two women’s hearts were broken, but we learnt a valuable lesson. It’s necessary to run a background check on your partner to know who you’re dealing with. That sounds ludicrous because it’s the person you plan to spend the rest of your life with, but maybe they don’t feel the same.
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