Chapter 2: The Woman He Thought He Could Humiliate
“Honestly, Camille, you should be grateful Marcus is so patient with you.””
Vanessa said it while cutting into the turkey, as casually as if she were discussing the weather.
Marcus chuckled.
I watched the blade of her knife slide through the crisp skin.
“Patient?”” I asked.
Vanessa tilted her head.
“Not every woman could handle a husband with his responsibilities. He's under enormous pressure. Men like Marcus need peace at home, not constant suspicion.””
Marcus leaned back in his chair.
“That's exactly what I've been trying to explain.””
I took a sip of water.
“And what exactly have you been explaining to her?””
His jaw tightened.
“Don't turn this into an interrogation.””
“I'm only asking a question.””
“No,” he said.
“You're trying to make a point.””
Vanessa placed her fork down.
“Maybe the problem is that you don't trust him.””
There it was.
The oldest trick in the world.
Betray someone, then accuse them of being cruel for noticing.
I looked at her white silk blouse. A tiny gold necklace rested against her collarbone. I recognized the necklace because I had bought it for Marcus's birthday two years earlier.
He had told me he lost it.
Apparently, he had found it again.
“Vanessa,” I said, “how long have you worked for my husband?””
“Almost a year.””
“And how often do you travel together?””
Her eyes flickered toward Marcus.
“Whenever business requires it.””
“How convenient.””
Marcus slapped his palm against the table.
“Enough.””
The silverware jumped. Vanessa flinched, then recovered quickly.
“Marcus, don't,” she murmured.
“She's obviously upset.””
He turned to me with the expression he used when intimidating junior employees.
“You have one job tonight, Camille. Be civil. I invited Vanessa because she has helped me close deals worth millions. If you can't behave like an adult, go upstairs.””
For a moment, I heard nothing except the low hum of the refrigerator in the adjoining kitchen.
Then I laughed.
It was a small laugh, almost involuntary.
Marcus frowned.
“What is so funny?””
“Nothing. I was just thinking about how strange it is that you keep telling me to behave like an adult while bringing your girlfriend to our dinner table.””
Vanessa's fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
Marcus went very still.
“You need to watch what you say.””
“Why? Are there children present?””
His face darkened.
“You think you're clever.””
“No,” I replied.
“I think I'm tired.””
The words surprised even me.
Not because they were untrue, but because I had finally said them without apologizing.
I was tired of explaining why fidelity mattered.
Tired of being told that loyalty meant silence.
Tired of hearing my husband describe my dignity as an inconvenience.
Marcus stood and walked toward the sideboard, where he poured himself another drink.
“Look, Camille. I'm going to be generous and give you an opportunity to fix this evening. Apologize to Vanessa, and we'll forget the whole thing.””
Vanessa lowered her eyes, but I saw the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
He was offering me a chance to submit.
She was waiting to watch me take it.
I folded my hands.
“No.””
Marcus turned around.
“What did you say?””
“I said no.””
“You're refusing to apologize?””
“I have nothing to apologize for.””
He walked back toward the table.
“Do you understand what I've done for you? This house, the cars, the vacations, the life you enjoy? You have never had to worry about money because I've handled everything.””
I stared at him.
There had been a time when those words would have frightened me.
Now they sounded like a man reading from a script he had rehearsed for years.
“You're right,” I said.
“You've handled the money.””
He nodded sharply.
“Exactly.””
“And I've handled everything else.””
His expression shifted.
I continued before he could interrupt.
“I took care of your father after his surgery. I sat beside your mother through chemotherapy. I spent nights reviewing the contracts for your first development project because you couldn't afford an assistant.
I hosted dinners for people you needed to impress. I sold my grandmother's property to help you cover the down payment on your first office.””
Vanessa glanced at Marcus.
He looked irritated.
“Why are you bringing up old things?””
“Because you seem to have forgotten them.””
“I built this life.””
“You built a business,” I said.
“I helped build the rest.””
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Vanessa sighed dramatically.
“This is exactly what I mean. You keep a list of everything you've ever done for him, as if marriage were a business transaction.””
I turned toward her.
“Is that what you think marriage is?””
She lifted her chin.
“I think a woman should know when her relationship is over.””
“Then why are you sitting in my husband's chair?””
Her lips parted.
Marcus stepped between us.
“That's enough. Vanessa is my guest, and I won't allow you to insult her.””
“Your guest,” I repeated.
“Yes.””
I nodded slowly.
“Then I suppose I should tell you something about the other guest I invited.””
Marcus frowned.
“What guest?””
I smiled.
It was the first genuine smile I had worn all evening.
“Someone you know very well.””
Vanessa's face changed.
Only slightly.
Her fingers tightened around her wineglass. A tiny tremor rippled through the red liquid.
Marcus noticed it.
“Vanessa?””
She forced a laugh.
“It's nothing. Camille is obviously trying to scare us.””
“Am I?”” I asked.
I rose from my chair and began clearing the empty appetizer plates.
Marcus caught my wrist.
“Sit down.””
I looked at his hand.
He released me.
“Don't make a scene,” he muttered.
“I won't.””
I carried the plates into the kitchen. Water rushed from the faucet, and the dishwasher hummed as I placed the dishes inside.
Through the open doorway, I heard Vanessa whisper.
“Marcus, what does she know?””
He answered too quietly for me to catch every word.
Then his voice sharpened.
“She knows nothing. She's bluffing.””
I dried my hands and returned to the dining room.
Marcus was standing beside Vanessa, one hand resting on the back of her chair. They looked like a couple posing for a photograph.
I checked the clock.
Seven fifty-eight.
Two minutes.
“Camille,” Marcus said, his voice now unnaturally calm, “I think it's time you went upstairs. Vanessa and I have business to discuss.””
I reached for my purse.
“Actually, I think it's time we all had an honest conversation.””
The doorbell rang.
Vanessa dropped her fork.
May you like
Marcus turned toward the hallway.
And for the first time that evening, my husband looked afraid.
