I married a man decades older than me because I believed he could give my children the stability I couldn’t.

At thirty, I was raising two kids alone—a kindergartner and a second grader. Their father had disappeared not long after our daughter was born, and I had no idea where he’d gone.

I worked full-time as an accountant, but it was never enough. We were always just scraping by, one unexpected expense away from everything falling apart.

And I was exhausted.

So when Richard came into my life promising security, I said yes.

I married someone old enough to be my father.

One afternoon, I left my kids with a babysitter to attend an important meeting at work. That was where I met him.

Richard was one of the company’s founders—calm, composed, never raising his voice. The kind of man who seemed completely in control.