My smirk returned. “Every time you told me to spread my legs, do you know what I envisioned behind that blindfold? Oh, you can’t answer with that tube down your throat. Let me tell you. I envisioned this! I envisioned the look on your face when you finally learned what I’d done. And you want to know my reward? I’m a great wife. I stood by you through all of this. I’m a fucking saint! Driving into the damn ocean would have been too easy for you, besides… I wouldn’t have been able to watch. Now, Mr. Harrington, nod if you understand that the day you fucking bought me to be your whore was the first day of the end of your life.”
Stewart nodded.
“I do have that documentation, and by the way, your pain medicine is going up. You will never speak again, not of this, not of anything. Consider it our do-not-disclose clause; however, instead of paying you off, I’m the one reaping the benefits. One more thing, Mr. Harrington, that new draft of your will—effective immediately, I’m having you declared incompetent. You will not be signing anything new. My fucking contract is complete, but yours with the devil has just begun.”
The beeps from his monitor sped up as I sat back and watched the confusion in his eyes morph into realization. When I heard the door behind me open, I leaned in and brushed my lips against his cheek. “The only thing better would have been hearing you beg,” I whispered into his ear. “Because I’m confident that the great Mr. Harrington would beg for his fucking life.”
My shoulders shuddered as I lay my head on his shoulder and willed the tears to flow. The warmth of a hand touched my shoulder.
“Mrs. Harrington, we have the medical power of attorney. Do you want us to increase his medication?”
“Y-Yes, anything to help him,” I managed through my sobs.
“With the possible strain on his heart, this could cause…”
I looked toward Stewart’s cardiologist who was standing near Dr. Duggar. “If we don’t do this, can we save him?”
The cardiologist shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Then do it. Let’s make him as comfortable as possible.”
Missy, one of the regular nurses, spoke, “Mrs. Harrington, would you like me to contact a counselor?”
“No, I’m not leaving my husband’s side.”
Such a freaking great wife. But both Stewart and I knew the truth: I wasn’t great. I was death. And, I wasn’t taking the chance of allowing Travis, Parker, or anyone else to get near Stewart without my presence.
After the medication drip was added to his IV, I sat patiently, drying my tears. Stewart’s icy stare stayed fixed on mine, trying to communicate a million things he’d never said or ever realized. I watched but I didn’t try to listen; instead, I internally rejoiced in his glare of silence. I’d listened to too many of his words. With each minute, the blackness inside of me grew and illuminated my cold, dead heart. Though I’d been called death all of my life, it wasn’t until Stewart’s eyes closed for the final time that I’d truly done it, and I’d never felt more fucking alive. The organ within my chest beat with new vigor.
The tears that coated my cheeks were real. They were tears of joy and tears of cleansing. As time passed, each drop that slowly descended my cheeks washed away a memory. It would take a fucking ocean to erase them all, but this was a start.
My days as someone’s whore were over.
As news spread, so did the people in Stewart’s room. Stewart would never have wanted all of these people to see him in this state so I welcomed each one with open arms. Travis was the first to intrude, and then Parker. There were nurses and doctors, as well as Lisa and other members of the house staff. Val came to comfort me. Even Brody came. As a member of Stewart’s legal team, his presence wasn’t questioned.
In reality, they all entered to see my good work. Of course, none of them knew that. None of them knew that as the clock struck midnight, I was a black widow.
I HADN’T SLEPT, not really. By the time all was said and done and the coroner came and took Stewart’s body, it was after two in the morning. There was no need for an autopsy: his disease was well documented. It was just the formalities that needed to be finalized before he was shipped to the funeral home where he would be cremated. The great Stewart Harrington didn’t want to be seen in the condition he was in prior to death. He sure as hell didn’t want to be seen as he was after death.
Val and Lisa stayed near, helping me as questions came and went. I appeared distraught and overwhelmed. My makeup was gone, and my fine clothes were wrinkled. The bags under my eyes helped project the overwrought widow persona.
Though Parker wanted to discuss Stewart’s legal concerns, Lisa told him it would need to wait until the morning. With single-minded efficiency, she cleared the apartment of everyone who didn’t live there, directly after Stewart’s body was removed. She informed the medical staff that they could return the following day to retrieve their equipment; however, Mrs. Harrington needed calm. With an aching in my temples from my self-induced crying, I was eternally thankful for her command of the situation.
The only one who remained was Val. Her compassion and support overwhelmed me. Her good and caring heart had no way of knowing the darkness in mine. I wondered sometimes how I could keep it hidden, especially from her. I knew I had no choice. She could never know the lengths I’d suffered for her future. I didn’t want her to know. She only knew what the world knew: I married Stewart Harrington, world-renowned hotel mogul. She saw what they saw: the polished, refined younger woman paraded on his arm—arm candy, as my mother so eloquently described me—who became the steadfast anchor to a man stricken down by an unforgiving disease at too young of an age, and who spent hours working with the Harrington Society to take medical care where none could be found.
Stewart nodded.
“I do have that documentation, and by the way, your pain medicine is going up. You will never speak again, not of this, not of anything. Consider it our do-not-disclose clause; however, instead of paying you off, I’m the one reaping the benefits. One more thing, Mr. Harrington, that new draft of your will—effective immediately, I’m having you declared incompetent. You will not be signing anything new. My fucking contract is complete, but yours with the devil has just begun.”
The beeps from his monitor sped up as I sat back and watched the confusion in his eyes morph into realization. When I heard the door behind me open, I leaned in and brushed my lips against his cheek. “The only thing better would have been hearing you beg,” I whispered into his ear. “Because I’m confident that the great Mr. Harrington would beg for his fucking life.”
My shoulders shuddered as I lay my head on his shoulder and willed the tears to flow. The warmth of a hand touched my shoulder.
“Mrs. Harrington, we have the medical power of attorney. Do you want us to increase his medication?”
“Y-Yes, anything to help him,” I managed through my sobs.
“With the possible strain on his heart, this could cause…”
I looked toward Stewart’s cardiologist who was standing near Dr. Duggar. “If we don’t do this, can we save him?”
The cardiologist shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Then do it. Let’s make him as comfortable as possible.”
Missy, one of the regular nurses, spoke, “Mrs. Harrington, would you like me to contact a counselor?”
“No, I’m not leaving my husband’s side.”
Such a freaking great wife. But both Stewart and I knew the truth: I wasn’t great. I was death. And, I wasn’t taking the chance of allowing Travis, Parker, or anyone else to get near Stewart without my presence.
After the medication drip was added to his IV, I sat patiently, drying my tears. Stewart’s icy stare stayed fixed on mine, trying to communicate a million things he’d never said or ever realized. I watched but I didn’t try to listen; instead, I internally rejoiced in his glare of silence. I’d listened to too many of his words. With each minute, the blackness inside of me grew and illuminated my cold, dead heart. Though I’d been called death all of my life, it wasn’t until Stewart’s eyes closed for the final time that I’d truly done it, and I’d never felt more fucking alive. The organ within my chest beat with new vigor.
The tears that coated my cheeks were real. They were tears of joy and tears of cleansing. As time passed, each drop that slowly descended my cheeks washed away a memory. It would take a fucking ocean to erase them all, but this was a start.
My days as someone’s whore were over.
As news spread, so did the people in Stewart’s room. Stewart would never have wanted all of these people to see him in this state so I welcomed each one with open arms. Travis was the first to intrude, and then Parker. There were nurses and doctors, as well as Lisa and other members of the house staff. Val came to comfort me. Even Brody came. As a member of Stewart’s legal team, his presence wasn’t questioned.
In reality, they all entered to see my good work. Of course, none of them knew that. None of them knew that as the clock struck midnight, I was a black widow.
I HADN’T SLEPT, not really. By the time all was said and done and the coroner came and took Stewart’s body, it was after two in the morning. There was no need for an autopsy: his disease was well documented. It was just the formalities that needed to be finalized before he was shipped to the funeral home where he would be cremated. The great Stewart Harrington didn’t want to be seen in the condition he was in prior to death. He sure as hell didn’t want to be seen as he was after death.
Val and Lisa stayed near, helping me as questions came and went. I appeared distraught and overwhelmed. My makeup was gone, and my fine clothes were wrinkled. The bags under my eyes helped project the overwrought widow persona.
Though Parker wanted to discuss Stewart’s legal concerns, Lisa told him it would need to wait until the morning. With single-minded efficiency, she cleared the apartment of everyone who didn’t live there, directly after Stewart’s body was removed. She informed the medical staff that they could return the following day to retrieve their equipment; however, Mrs. Harrington needed calm. With an aching in my temples from my self-induced crying, I was eternally thankful for her command of the situation.
The only one who remained was Val. Her compassion and support overwhelmed me. Her good and caring heart had no way of knowing the darkness in mine. I wondered sometimes how I could keep it hidden, especially from her. I knew I had no choice. She could never know the lengths I’d suffered for her future. I didn’t want her to know. She only knew what the world knew: I married Stewart Harrington, world-renowned hotel mogul. She saw what they saw: the polished, refined younger woman paraded on his arm—arm candy, as my mother so eloquently described me—who became the steadfast anchor to a man stricken down by an unforgiving disease at too young of an age, and who spent hours working with the Harrington Society to take medical care where none could be found.
