Penance (Devout Trilogy #3) - Lesli Richardson Page 0,19

the equity in it, but it’s a small price to pay to be free from her. She’ll have to give me this house, or pay me half its value if she insists on keeping it.

Knowing I would, hopefully, one day divorce her, I was very careful how I structured our personal life. Being as short-sighted as she is, Olivia never thought about things like that.

I lock myself in my bedroom and text Daniel.

Done. She came back wanting to talk and asked for a divorce. I told her yep and I’m not running.

I quickly receive a string of happy face emojis in response.

Now all I have to do is wait out my father’s death.

How sad is it that I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about that, either?

Chapter Seven

For the first time in my father’s life, he does something truly wonderful. He declines far faster than anyone expects and is unable to live at home within a couple of months.

Six months after he tells me he has cancer, he’s under hospice care, and I am spending way more time in Georgia than I wish I was. But between the impending divorce, work, and now this, my attention is pulled in directions I wish it were not.

At least it’s no longer a secret that I’m not running for re-election.

And, despite Dad’s wishes, I’ve leaked that it’s in part because of his decline in health.

Of course I made sure to let everyone know about the divorce before the news broke about my father, and even let Olivia save face by claiming she offered to suspend the proceedings until after he died, but I told her no, it was okay, and that I wanted it over quickly.

It’s been three months since my last sexy interlude with Daniel and Liam. I talk to them on the phone, and we text, but there’s too much risk in exposure right now. Too many gossipy eyes on me, between Dad dying and the divorce.

I will not ruin Liam’s career because of a scandal. Or Daniel’s, obviously.

It’s best if I retreat and not interfere.

I received a call this morning from one of the doctors that Dad is, finally, in the final stage. He is, of course, in total denial despite his condition.

I wouldn’t expect any less from a narcissist like him. Of course I’ve gone along with his fantasy all this time, because doing so makes my life easier. His medical team chalks it up to a form of dementia, but I know the truth.

He cannot accept he’s dying. I’ve also been gaslighting him for the past month that he’s receiving experimental medication, but he can’t tell anyone, because it’s proprietary.

I lied and told him I pulled strings with a pharma company, but it’s a secret, so he can’t talk about it. I said that’s why the label on the syringes the nurses use is red.

Of course that’s bullshit—it’s just morphine.

But he feels a little better every time they give him a dose, so he’s believing me.

Hey, it’s not like I’m murdering him. Every expert agrees that there was no treatment that would prolong his life or his quality of life. The cancer’s aggressive and deadly.

The “kindest” thing is to keep him comfortable.

The nursing home Dad’s in is upscale, obviously. Less a dreary hospital in feel and atmosphere and more like a long-stay hotel. I hate being here in Georgia and wish like Hell I was in DC with Daniel and Liam, but I have to do this.

It’s time for me to finally face the man as a man and stop running.

When I check in, an expression flashes across the nurse’s face for a moment and she schools it with practiced compassion over an inevitable conclusion. “Let me get the on-call to talk to you, Senator Callahan.”

“Just Ward, please.”

“Certainly. Follow me.”

She locates the doctor and we briefly speak in a small consultation room.

“As we discussed on the phone, we started palliative care three days ago. He’s very weak, and based on his vital signs, he likely won’t last the day.”

I struggle not to smile, to cheer, to punch the air. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, stare at the floor, and gravely nod. “We’re definitely in the end stage?”

“Exactly. The cancer was aggressive and had metastasized long before his doctors discovered it. There’s nothing that could have been done to prolong his life, even at that point. If he were my father, I would be doing exactly what you’re doing now.”

I know he’s trying to be compassionate