I Discovered My Husband With My Son’s Fiancee Days Before They Were Supposed To Marry…

Restoration

He helped them build a case against Henry and Betty. He also worked on getting my money back and securing my ownership of the hotel.

It took weeks. The shell companies had to be dissolved.

The bank accounts had to be traced. The forged documents had to be invalidated.

But eventually Charles managed to undo most of what Henry had done. I got the hotel back.

I got most of the money back. Not everything, but enough.

Henry and Betty were held without bail. The prosecutors said they were flight risks.

They were probably right. Betty had already tried to run after her arrest.

The police discovered she’d been planning to leave the country. She had a ticket to Barcelona.

She had a fake passport. She’d been ready to disappear.

The Trial

The trial took months. Henry and Betty both had lawyers.

Henry’s lawyer tried to argue that Henry had diminished capacity. That Betty had manipulated him.

That he wasn’t thinking clearly. The jury didn’t buy it.

Betty’s lawyer tried to argue that she was just doing her job. That she didn’t know the transactions were fraudulent.

That also didn’t work. In the end both of them were convicted.

Betty got 3 years in prison. Henry got 5.

The judge said Henry’s sentence was longer because he’d betrayed his family. Because he’d forged his wife’s signature repeatedly over several years.

Because he’d planned this for a long time. Henry cried when the sentence was read.

Betty just stared straight ahead. After the trial I thought I’d feel relief or satisfaction or something.

But I just felt tired. I’d spent months dealing with lawyers and courts and police.

The Aftermath

I’d spent months answering questions and signing papers and trying to explain to people how I didn’t know my husband was stealing from me. Some people believed me, some people didn’t.

Some people thought I must have known. That I was either stupid or complicit.

I stopped caring what people thought. Bill stayed with me through all of it.

He postponed his restaurant plans. He said: “He wanted to make sure I was okay first.”

I told him I was fine. I told him to go ahead with his plans.

But he insisted on staying. I was grateful.

I don’t know what I would have done without him. A few months after the trial I started getting letters from Henry.

They came from the prison. The first one was short.

He said: “He was sorry.”

He said: “He’d made a terrible mistake.”

He said: “He still loved me.”

Unopened Letters

I threw it away. The second letter was longer.

He tried to explain himself. He said: “He’d felt trapped in our marriage.”

He said: “He’d felt like he was getting old and running out of time.”

He said: “Betty had made him feel young again.”

He said: “She’d convinced him they could have a new life together.”

I threw that letter away too. More letters came.

Once a week, sometimes twice. Henry kept apologizing, kept making excuses.

Kept saying he loved me. Kept saying I was the love of his life.

I stopped reading them. I’d open the envelope, see it was from Henry, and throw it in the trash.

I didn’t care what he had to say anymore. He’d said enough.

A Necessary Ending

Bill asked me once if I was going to divorce Henry. I said: “Yes, eventually. I just needed time. I needed to process everything.”

Bill said: “He understood.”

He said: “He’d support whatever I decided.”

I asked him how he was doing. He said: “He was okay.”

He said: “He felt stupid for not seeing through Betty sooner.”

I told him she’d fooled all of us. She was good at lying; that was her job.

Bill asked me if I thought Henry ever really loved me. I said: “I didn’t know.”

Maybe he did in his own way but it wasn’t enough. Love isn’t enough if you’re willing to betray someone.

If you’re willing to steal from them. If you’re willing to destroy everything they’ve worked for.

Whatever Henry felt for me it wasn’t strong enough to stop him from doing what he did. Time passed slowly.

Looking Forward

I started feeling more like myself. I went back to the hotel.

I threw myself into work. I redecorated some of the rooms.

I hired new staff. I updated the website.

I tried to focus on the future instead of the past. It helped.

Working helped, having something to do helped. Bill finally moved forward with his restaurant plans.

He found a location next to the hotel. He started renovating it.

He asked me for advice sometimes. About the layout, about the menu, about hiring staff.

I helped when I could. It felt good to be planning something positive.

Something that wasn’t about Henry or Betty or the trial. The restaurant opened a year after Henry went to prison.

Bill named it something simple, just his name: Bill’s. He said: “He didn’t want anything fancy.”

He said: “He wanted people to know it was his place, his dream.”

The Dream Realized

I went to the opening, so did a lot of people from town. People who’d supported me through everything, people who’d believed in me.

It was a good night. Bill was happy.

I was happy for him. Three years have passed since Henry went to prison.

Three years since my life fell apart and I had to put it back together. I’m 65 now.

The hotel is doing well, better than ever actually. Bill’s restaurant is successful.

We work together every day. The family business I dreamed about is real.

It just doesn’t include Henry. I filed for divorce 6 months after the trial.

Henry didn’t contest it. He signed the papers from prison.

His lawyer sent them back. That was it.

20 plus years of marriage ended with a signature. I thought I’d feel sad about it but I just felt free.

Life After Prison

I still get letters from Henry sometimes. Not as often as before, maybe once a month now.

I still don’t read them. I recognize his handwriting on the envelope and I throw them away.

Bill asked me once if I was curious about what Henry writes. I said: “No.”

There’s nothing he can say that would change anything. Nothing that would make me forgive him.

He made his choice; now he has to live with it. Betty got out of prison a few months ago.

She served her 3 years. I heard she left Arizona, went back east somewhere.

I don’t know where and I don’t care. I hope I never see her again.

Bill said he heard from someone that she was working at a grocery store. I guess the real estate fraud business didn’t work out for her.

Good. Henry still has 3 years left on his sentence.

Reflection and Strength

Sometimes I wonder what he does all day. Does he think about what he lost?

Does he regret it? Does he understand that he threw away everything for nothing?

Betty’s gone, the money’s gone, his family’s gone. He’s alone.

Maybe that’s the punishment he really deserves. Not prison, just being alone with what he did.

People in town treat me differently now. Some of them feel sorry for me.

They give me sympathetic looks. They ask how I’m doing in that careful way people do when they think you’re fragile.

I tell them I’m fine because I am. Some people respect me more now.

They saw me fight back. They saw me refuse to be a victim.

They saw me take control of my life. Those are the people I like.

This is Mine

The hotel has become more than just a business to me. It’s proof that I can survive anything.

That I can build something and protect it and keep it going no matter what. Every time I walk through the lobby I feel proud.

This is mine. I built this.

Nobody can take it from me again. Bill and I have gotten closer through all of this.

We talk more, we understand each other better. He tells me about his life, his plans, his dreams.

I tell him about mine. We’re partners now, real partners, not just mother and son.

We make decisions together. We trust each other.

It’s what I always wanted with Henry but never had. Sometimes I think about the good times with Henry.

The early years when things were simple. When we were building the hotel together and fighting about stupid things like paint colors and furniture.

The Survivor

When Bill was little and we were a real family. Those memories feel like they belong to someone else now.

Like they happened to a different person. Maybe they did.

I’m not the same Adelaide I was 3 years ago. That Adelaide believed in second chances.

That Adelaide made excuses for people. This Adelaide doesn’t.

I’ve learned that you can’t change people. You can’t love them into being better.

You can’t hope they’ll grow up. They either do or they don’t.

Henry never did. He just got better at hiding who he really was until he couldn’t hide anymore.

Do I miss being married? Sometimes I miss having someone to talk to at the end of the day.

I miss having a partner. But I don’t miss Henry.

Focused on the Future

I don’t miss wondering if he’s lying to me. I don’t miss ignoring his affairs.

I don’t miss pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. I’d rather be alone than live like that again.

Bill asked me recently if I had ever date again. I laughed.

I said: “I’m 65 years old. Who’s going to want to date me?”

He said: “Plenty of people.”

He said: “I’m smart and strong and successful.”

I told him I’d think about it. But honestly I’m not sure I want to.

I like my life the way it is now. Simple, peaceful, mine.

The hotel, the restaurant, Bill; that’s my family now. That’s what matters.

Henry’s in the past. Betty’s in the past.

The lies and the betrayal and the trial, all of it is in the past. I’m focused on the future now.

On building something real. Something that lasts, something nobody can steal.

I’m Adelaide. I’m a hotel owner.

I’m a mother. I’m a survivor and I’m doing just fine.