“Mrs. Benson, this is John Dowd. I was Todd’s insurance agent.”

“Oh, yes.” I sit up, wiping my eyes. “Thank you for calling me back.”

“I wanted to go over some information with you. Is now a good time?”

The boys are at school, I’m in bed, and I’m not planning on moving from this spot today, so I guess it’s as good a time as any. “Sure, Mr. Dowd. Now is fine.”

He releases a deep breath. “I’m calling to let you know the status of the insurance payout. Your father-in-law started the process on your behalf. About a year ago, Todd had me revise his life insurance plan. He upped it from $500,000 to $750,000. He wanted to ensure you had enough income, if something should happen, once your business started.”

“Oh. I guess that was nice of him.” How nice that he was planning for the future, I want to scoff.

“Yes, well, the issue is that there’s a suicide clause. Martin explained the circumstances surrounding Todd’s death. The thing is . . . if the plan isn’t two years old, the insurance policy won’t pay out.”

The floor drops out from under me all over again. “But he was the primary breadwinner. I don’t understand. We’ll get nothing?”

He clears his throat. “I’m afraid so. I tried, but with the policy being only a year old, they’re refusing to pay anything other than what Todd paid in. We rolled the premium over, but honestly, Mrs. Benson, it’s not much.”

Oh, my God. “I-I,” I stutter, trying to find the words. “But my kids. Our home. How are we going to survive? How do I pay the mortgage and the bills?”

“I’m truly sorry. I would call the bank, plead your case. Sometimes they’ll work with you. I’ll call Martin as well, explain the situation. But I tried all the appeals I could. There’s really nothing the insurance agency can offer you.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle this.” I feel sick. “You’re positive there’s nothing else? If I obtained a lawyer?”

Mr. Dowd sighs. “I wish it would help. But the policy is very clear.”

“Okay, then,” I reply with defeat.

“If I can do anything, I will. I’m sorry again.”

“Thank you.”

I hang up the phone, bearing yet another blow. They just keep coming.

O F COURSE. THAT’S ALL I can keep thinking. Of course this is happening. If he hadn’t changed the plan, we would have money to pay our bills. Now, I don’t know how we’re going to afford the mortgage. Our bakery is barely breaking even, let alone paying me enough to survive.

I spend the next hour going through our home office. There’s nothing financial anywhere. I can’t find a bank statement, credit card bill, paystub . . . nothing. I don’t know if maybe he kept all the bills at work. I find the phone numbers on the back of the cards and start dialing.

“What do you mean we have an outstanding bill?” I ask the fourth credit card company.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Benson,” the woman on the phone says for the tenth time. “The notes state that your husband arranged a payment plan but has been unable to keep up with it. If you don’t pay the minimum balance by the end of the week, we’re going to be sending the account to collections.”

The blood drains from my body. It’s the same speech from every account we have. Dozens of apologies. Hundreds of tears. And zero answers on how to get through this. I decide to call the office. Maybe Jeff will have some answers about where the hell Todd’s paychecks have been going.

“Sterling, Dodd, and March Investment,” Kyla’s sweet voice rings in my ear.

“Hi, Kyla.” I let out a shaky breath. “It’s Presley Benson. Is Jeff available?”

I haven’t had time to think about much, but I don’t remember seeing him at the funeral. It’s all a blur though, a horrible nightmare.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear about Todd,” her concern floats through.

“Thank you,” I say on autopilot. I hear this so much that it’s lost its meaning. Sorry for what? Sorry that I’m in pain? Sorry that the boys are now without a father? Sorry that you didn’t see it coming? What exactly is everyone fucking sorry for?

She clears her throat. “I wanted to call.”

“It’s fine,” I pacify her. “Is Jeff available?”

“Umm, he’s . . . he isn’t . . . well,” she stutters. “He’s actually out of the office.”

“Okay,” I say with confusion. “Are any of Todd’s supervisors there? I’m trying to get some information about his paychecks.”

Todd handled all our bills. There wasn’t a need for me to worry because he was an investor. It made sense for him to control the finances.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Benson.” Her voice drops. “Todd hasn’t worked here in a while. He received his last paycheck months ago.”

“What?”

“I don’t . . . I can put you through to payroll, but I don’t know what they’ll say.”

“I don’t understand. He went to work the day he died.”

“Let me put you through to Jeff’s voicemail,” she replies quickly.

Before I can say anything, I hear Jeff’s voice and then a beep. “Jeff, it’s Presley. I need you to call me. I’m . . . just call.” I hang up the phone and sit here stunned.

He lost his job? Did he change companies and that was why we were late? What the fuck is going on? I can’t take much more. There’s no money coming in from anywhere, and I have to pay bills that I didn’t know we had. I have to worry about food and how we’re going to keep a roof over our heads.

Oh, my God. The house.

I grab the phone and call the lender.

“How far behind are we on the mortgage?” I ask. I close my eyes and pray he’s paid at least this one.

“The house is set to go into foreclosure this week.”

I grab my throat as I struggle to inhale. How could he do this to us? It’s one blow after another. He lied all this time. Anger takes hold and my fingers shake. This man was supposed to be my rock, and this is what he does? He spends months living some alternate life? I stand and begin to pace.

“But—” I close my eyes and let out a breath. “I have two small kids, my husband has passed away, and I’m afraid I don’t have any way to pay all of the outstanding amount.” I’m breaking apart as the reality of my financial situation unravels.