Chapter 2

"Look at you, smelling of the kitchen, all you talk about are mundane household matters. How can you even compare to my Seraphina?"

Marcus Thorne slammed his fork onto the table, his eyes filled with unconcealed contempt.

I glanced down at my loungewear. There was a bit of a sauce stain on my sleeve, and my hair was in a messy bun. I'd just finished up in the kitchen and hadn't had a chance to change.

"Smelling of the kitchen, all you ever discuss is what groceries cost at the market, or how much the HOA fees went up."

"Elara Vance, you weren't like this before."

I said nothing, just picked up my bowl and continued eating.

Seeing my lack of response, his temper flared.

"Look at Seraphina Dubois. She's now the Asia-Pacific Vice President of a multinational corporation, an international elite. You're not even in her league."

Seraphina Dubois. I'd heard that name at least fifty times in the past three months. Marcus Thorne's ex-wife. They divorced five years ago, and Seraphina went abroad to advance her career. Three months ago, she returned. Marcus acted like he was under a spell, his entire demeanor changing.

"What was I even thinking, getting involved with you?" He stood up and grabbed his jacket. "I'm not going to the company's annual funding meeting; you handle it."

"You're not going to the funding meeting?" I looked up at him. "That was your most important schedule item for the year."

"Seraphina's back; I promised to pick her up from the airport." He said this as if I'd asked a stupid question, utterly justified.

"Picking her up is more important than funding?"

"You can handle the funding. Seraphina's all alone here, no family, no friends. If I don't pick her up, who will?"

He walked to the door, then turned back to look at me, a flicker of condescending pity in his eyes. "If you feel wronged, go get an MBA or something. Don't just stay at home all day. Look at you, you don't even have any real friends."

The door closed. I put down my fork, staring at the steak on the table, which he'd barely touched. This was a dish he'd requested for a year, saying his mom used to make it when he was a kid. It took me two full months to perfect the taste he remembered. Now, he hated that I smelled of the kitchen.

I picked up my phone and dialed a number. "Mr. Hayes, it's Elara Vance. That plan you mentioned last time, I'd like to hear the specifics."

Mr. Hayes sounded a little surprised. "Ms. Vance, have you finally come around?"

"I have." I leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. "He told me to get an MBA. I think it's a great suggestion. But I don't want to study business management. I want to study share transfer and asset liquidation."

Mr. Hayes was silent for two seconds. "I'll come see you tomorrow morning."

"No need to come to my house. Let's meet at a coffee shop near your law firm, two PM."

I hung up, opened my laptop, and logged into the company's backend system. Marcus was too trusting of me. Or rather, he looked down on me too much. He thought I was just a stay-at-home parent, tied to the stove, never knowing that every night after he fell asleep, I would spend three hours studying all the company's business lines and financial data.

He thought I knew nothing, which is why he confidently left those blank authorization documents in his study, asking me to organize and file them. He didn't know I'd photographed and saved every single one.

It didn't start three months ago. It started two years ago, the day he first brought home lipstick stains on his shirt after a social event. From that day on, I understood that all the chips I'd put into this marriage, I needed to keep a way out for myself.