Marcus Thorne adjusted his thousand tie, a predator sizing up his domain. The

polished mahogany of the boardroom table reflected his confident smirk. Beside

him, his beautiful, ambitious protetéé, Tiffany, gave his hand a subtle squeeze

under the table. This meeting was his kingmaker. He was about to present his 5-year growth

strategy to the mysterious new CEO of their parent company, Vanguard Holdings.

A promotion to senior vice president was practically in his pocket. He just had

to impress some corporate titan he’d never met. He leaned over to his rival,

David Chen, whispering with a smug chuckle, “Wish my wife could see this.

She thinks my biggest decision of the day is what to have for dinner. Little

did he know the biggest decision of his day had already been made for him by the very woman he so casually dismissed. The

boardroom doors were about to open, and his entire world was about to burn to the ground. The morning sun, pale and

indifferent, streamed through the floor toseeiling windows of the penthouse Marcus Thorne called home. It was a

space designed for a magazine cover. All sharp lines, muted colors, and cold

impersonal art. It was a testament to success, a monument to ambition, and as

sterile as an operating theater. Marcus stood before a fulllength mirror,

knotting a silk tie the color of spilled wine. Every movement was precise,

practiced a reflection of a man who believed he was in complete control of his universe. “Catherine, have you seen

my sterling silver cufflinks? The ones from the Geneva trip?” he called out his

voice echoing slightly in the cavernous living area. He didn’t turn, simply

watched his own reflection, admiring the cut of his Italian suit. From the

kitchen, a space of gleaming stainless steel and marble that rarely saw any

actual cooking. Catherine Vance emerged. She was dressed in simple gray yoga

pants and a softworn cotton t-shirt. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose

ponytail, and her face was devoid of makeup. To an outsider, she was the

picture of understated stay-at-home comfort. To Marcus, she was a part of

the decor. He had long since stopped noticing. “They’re in your travel valet on the

dresser, where they always are,” she said, her voice even and calm. She held

a mug of black coffee in her hands, the steam curling around her fingers.

“Marcus grunted, finding them exactly where she said, “Right, big day today.

The final presentation to the new Vanguard CEO. He clipped the cuff links

into place, the metallic click punctuating the silence. This is it, Kate. The move to the seauite.

Everything I’ve been working for. I’m sure you’ll be wonderful, Marcus, she

replied, taking a slow sip of her coffee. There was no excitement in her

voice, only a quiet observational tone that he found perpetually irritating. It

was as if she were watching a play rather than living in the same reality as him. You could try to sound a little

more enthused. He chided, turning to finally face her. He scanned her

appearance with a faint, almost imperceptible frown. You know this

apartment, your charity launches the life you have. It’s all because of these

big days. Catherine’s eyes, a deep and intelligent shade of blue met his. There was a

flicker of something in them. Not anger, not sadness, but something far more

complex. It was a look he hadn’t been able to decipher for years.

I’m aware of what you provide, Marcus. I’ve never forgotten. The subtext was lost on him. Or perhaps

he chose to ignore it. He saw only the unassuming woman before him, the one who

had abandoned her own promising career in software engineering 15 years ago,

when he’d received his first major promotion. It was his narrative, the one he’d polished and perfected. Over time,

he had soared, and she had settled. He had graciously allowed her to retire into a life of leisure, while he

wrestled with the titans of industry. I have to take Tiffany with me, he said,

the statement sounding more like a declaration than a request for an opinion. She was instrumental in

compiling the data for the presentation. It’s good exposure for a junior analyst.

Catherine’s expression didn’t change. She just nodded slowly.

Tiffany Hayes, the blonde from the marketing department, the one you mentored at the company retreat in

Aspen. Marcus felt a brief uncomfortable jolt. He hadn’t realized Catherine paid

that much attention. Yes, that’s the one. She’s bright, eager to learn. He

conveniently admitted that Tiffany was 26, worshipped the ground he walked on, and had spent the previous evening in a

hotel room with him, celebrating their pre victory.

Well, I hope her exposure is educational,” Catherine said, turning to place her mug

in the sink. The words were simple, yet they hung in the air with an odd weight.

Marcus dismissed it as another one of her passive aggressive moods. He grabbed

his leather briefcase, the scent of expensive cologne trailing behind him. He paused at the door, looking back at

his wife. She stood with her back to him, staring out the window at the sprawling Chicago skyline.

For a fleeting moment, she seemed like a stranger in their home. “Don’t wait up,”

he said the words a familiar refrain. “It’s going to be a long day of meetings followed by a celebratory dinner.” “Oh,

I won’t,” Catherine replied, her voice soft but clear. “I have a very busy day

myself. You have no idea. He chuckled a short condescending sound. Right.

Shopping at Neiman Marcus or planning another fundraiser. Try not to strain

yourself. He closed the door behind him, the solid thud sealing him out of her world, and

her into the gilded cage he had so carefully constructed. He walked to the elevator, a triumphant smile on his