He Left His CEO Wife and Never Looked Back

The cold wind cut through my collar the moment I stepped out the front doors.

I looked up at the twenty-something-story office tower. The gilded sign blazed against the overcast sky, almost offensively bright.

Grandwell Group. The Swanson family's empire.

Prudence was the president. I'd worked here for five years, climbing from the lowest rung of the sales team all the way up to supervisor.

My father-in-law's company, his son-in-law on the payroll. To outsiders, it looked like a double stroke of luck.

Only I knew what those five years had really cost me.

I took a cab to the apartment my mother rented. When I pushed open the door, she was busy in the kitchen.

The tiny place was filled with the warm smell of cooking oil and spices.

It smelled like childhood.

"Sweetheart, you're here!" She turned and smiled at me. "Off work early today? Perfect timing. I made braised ribs, your favorite."

I stood in the doorway, watching her.

She wore the same old padded jacket, washed so many times it had faded almost white, with a floral apron tied around her waist. Her left hand braced against the edge of the stove, her body tilting slightly to the right.

Her bad left leg couldn't bear weight for long.

"Mom." My throat tightened. "Stop what you're doing for a minute. Come sit down. I need to talk to you about something."

She glanced at me. Her hands went still.

Then she turned off the burner, wiped her hands on her apron, and made her way out slowly.

"What's wrong?" She sat down, a trace of worry already creeping across her face. "Did something happen?"

I sat across from her.

"I quit my job."

She froze.

"And there's more."

"I asked Prudence for a divorce."

The expression on her face locked in place.

A long moment passed before her lips moved. "W-why? Did I do something wrong? Did I upset the Swansons?"

"No."

"It has to be that!"

She cut me off, dropping her gaze. Her rough, work-worn hands twisted together in her lap.

"I know it's my fault. I must not have done the work well enough."

"They had me cleaning the house, and with my bad leg, I'm sure I missed things."

"Son, go back and apologize to them for me. Tell them I'll do better from now on, I'll work harder..."

"Mom!"

My voice came out louder than I intended.

She looked up. Her eyes were already rimmed with red.

I drew a deep breath and forced my voice level. "Mom, this isn't about you. It has nothing to do with you."

She didn't believe me. She kept her head down, still murmuring under her breath.

"It's my fault. It has to be..."

Looking at her like that, it felt like a fist was squeezing my heart.

Last spring, my mother had called to say her left leg was acting up again.

She'd brushed it off on the phone. Said it was nothing, that a few days of rest would fix it.

I didn't buy it. I drove back to our hometown to check on her and found her limping badly with every step.

When I asked why she hadn't told me sooner, she just smiled and said she didn't want to interfere with my work.

I'd just been promoted to sales supervisor at the time, and I was swamped. That part was true.

I insisted on bringing her to Riverside City so I could take care of her.

She refused. Said she'd only be a burden.

I told her she was my mother, and there was no such thing as a burden.

She finally agreed.

Kevin hadn't said anything at first. His expression soured, but he kept his mouth shut.

That lasted exactly two days. Then he spoke up, right in front of me and right in front of my mother.

"Rudolph."

He leaned back on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Now, in principle, having your mother stay with the family is perfectly reasonable."

"But you know how it is. Prue grew up sheltered, used to a certain lifestyle. Her day-to-day habits might not exactly line up with her mother-in-law's."

"As her father, I've got to look out for my little girl."

My mother had been holding a glass of water. Her hand went still.