Black Widower Thomas Randolph Novels & Stories

“If I had a husband like Creighton Ashford, I’d be more than willing to give him all the babies he wanted.” “I never said I wasn’t willing,” Sandra told her with a frown. “Don’t mind Destiny,” Amanda said, wrapping her arm in Sandra’s when the redhead turned her attention away from the two. “Scott is an overweight, bald pig who spends as much time as he can playing poker. She wouldn’t know what to do with a real man like your husband.”

Thomas looked very white and his eyes were frantic and deranged. Thomas drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and then began to speak. “I went to Sarah’s house last night. I wanted to end things with her. Of course, I would still look after our child but I told her that I didn’t want to marry her. She didn’t say anything. I thought that she had taken the news rather well and then I passed out on the couch in her living room. I had meant to go home but I was drunk, you know. And, honestly, I’m glad that I passed out when I did because when I woke up, twelve hours had gone by and it was late afternoon. I couldn’t see Sarah anywhere so I went upstairs to her bedroom.

He believed he was making their marriage work, that he was balancing their lives, when in reality, he was simply erasing her. Meanwhile, a world away from Dante’s obsessive planning, the true source of his rapid success continued to operate in silent, heartbroken secrecy. Bill Fodert, though just a butler but now an indispensable part of the Wayne’s estate, sat in the opulent study late one evening, a glass of fine whiskey untouched on his desk. He was on the phone, not to an old associate, but to an executive at a major civil engineering firm.

Iris said as I burst into laughter. “I wanted that as much as you did but if he died just like that without suffering, of what use would my second chance be??? I want him to feel every pain I felt and that can only be possible if we end up getting married…he was a widower in my previous life but this time around, I would be the widow.” "That's my girl!!!! Look, I was planning on traveling back soon but because of you, I won't do that anymore…I am with you all the way in this plan of yours.” Iris said as I smiled.

"Thank you. Let me get straight to the point if you do not mind." "Yes please, I want to hear this," Steve says closing his laptop. "These are pictures of the person I think is linked to the pendant," Tony says pushing a brown envelope across the table to Steve. Steve skims at the pictures then looks up to Tony. "His name is Thomas White, he is the former owner of White and Co. He used to be a billionaire but he lost everything after his company collapse. The collapse did a number on him and even damaged his health. He moves by wheelchair and is in and out of hospital. He also lost the wife and I believe the pendant belongs to the wife or maybe he gifted the wife or something.

It means I don’t have to fight or bid for information. Thomas lives in a one-bedroom house with a rickety porch in a rundown neighborhood. It’s painted white, but the paint’s mostly chipped off. It has a torn screen door in front of a rotting wooden door. The mailbox is hanging on the wall by one screw. I’m fairly sure it’s going to fall off at any moment. The grass is completely overgrown—almost reaching my knees. The sidewalk is crumbling away.

Sarah was worried and asked, “Mr. Thomas, what’s the matter with you?” “Nothing, I’m ok. I think I have a cold, and it’s probably because of the changing weather. I’ll take some medicine, and then I will be fine.” Mr. Thomas was still violently coughing as he said this, and Sarah suspected that this was not merely the symptom of a common cold. He was looking even thinner than the last time they met. However, it would be impolite for her to ask more, so she suggested that she should accompany him to go to the hospital. Mr. Thomas refused, however, explaining that his driver could take him to the hospital. Thus, Sarah had no option other than to drop it. Before Mr. Thomas left, he said to Sara

“Thomas, how many girls are you going to hook up with until you’ve stopped?” “Which rumor spread this time? Thomas Brooke seen walking out of the club with a mysterious girl, is she his girlfriend? Or simply another one of his hook ups?” I rolled my eyes and I could practically see mum rolling her eyes as she tried calming herself from answering me. But in reality, I didn’t care about anything now, I knew that every man, married or single, eventually hooks, hooked up, or is hooking with a random mistress somewhere, and somehow. Even my father had a mistress, and I only knew about one, and she was not mum who was also once his mistress.

So, he found comfort with other women. Tyler’s earlier words played in my mind. His denial of me as his wife felt like a sharp bone lodged in my throat. Before I realized it, tears silently spilled from the corners of my eyes. Just then, my phone buzzed with a text. It was from Tyler. [I couldn’t find you, so I left first. [I’ve got a surprise waiting at home. Don’t be mad, okay? [Oh, and Mom says she misses us. Let’s visit her when we get the chance.]

I weep for that foolish belief that love is sometimes born of the everyday, that it can grow where nothing was ever sown. I am tired. My phone vibrates. I ignore it at first. Then I look. And the screen explodes in my face. Divorce petition initiated by MARIUS D. via e-Divorce. Not a word. Not a call. Not even a message. Just that. A notification. A cold, impersonal sentence. I stand too quickly. The chair tips, falls. I stagger. People turn their heads. But I don't care. I want to flee. To get out.