I stood where I was and looked at his face.
Three years, and this was the first time I saw him clearly.
Before, I'd always told myself he was just under too much pressure, that his temper slipped now and then.
Only now did I understand that he had never once treated me as a real person.
He'd confirmed I had no background, no one behind me, and that put him at ease, and every ounce of that superiority buried in him came right out.
"Pour me a glass of water, and while you're at it, wash tonight's clothes and mop the floor. My feet are stepping on filth."
He said it like it was simply owed to him, the way you'd summon a tool.
I thought of his birthday, when I bought him the sneakers he'd been eyeing forever.
He tried them on and only said the color was okay. He didn't even thank me.
On my birthday, he handed me a crumpled paper bag with a lipstick in it, the kind that goes for nine ninety-nine with free shipping.
He said, "You don't dress up anyway, this is enough for you. Don't waste money."
Back then I actually thought he was truly broke, that maybe even the nine ninety-nine had been squeezed out through gritted teeth.
Remembering it now, a wave of disgust rose in me.
"I'm not waiting on you anymore," I said.
Antony blinked and looked up. "What did you say?"
"I'm tired today." I said it again. "Do it yourself."
His face changed in an instant.
"Your temper's getting worse and worse, isn't it?"
"I work hard for money every single day, and I ask you to do a little housework, what's wrong with that? You can't even be considerate about this much. I've really spoiled you rotten."
I looked at him and said nothing.
He thought I was throwing a mood, thought I was still the person who would slowly soften in the silence and end up bowing her head to apologize.
So he waited a moment, and when I didn't move, he stood up, put on his shoes, and tossed out one cold line.
"Go reflect on yourself. Come talk to me when you've thought it through."
Then the door shut, and he was gone.
The apartment went quiet. I stood there for a while.
My phone screen lit up. A message from my assistant.
"Miss Gilbert, the acquisition is fully prepared. The agreement is ready to proceed. Please confirm the timing."
"Begin," I replied.
Antony didn't come back for two days. Then, the second night, he called me.
"Company dinner tonight. Wear something nice and come with me. I'll let you see how the real world works."
I was bored out of my mind, and honestly curious what scheme they were cooking up, so I threw on a plain little black dress and went.
The banquet hall blazed with light, crystal chandeliers pouring down over a room full of tailored suits.
Antony's company was only second-tier in the local business scene, but this dinner had been dressed up to look grand.
He'd have invited every important face in the city if he could, all just to squeeze his way into that circle.
The moment I walked in, I saw exactly what he was planning.
For an occasion like this, he'd never bring Carol.
Carol was the chip for the arranged marriage. She had to be kept dignified, kept precious, never touched by the greasy air of a night like this.
I was the one who could be used.
He exchanged pleasantries with a few bosses, pushed me forward beside him, introduced me with a quick "my friend," and let go, turning away to court the connections that actually mattered.
I stood there holding a glass of red wine, and it wasn't long before the first one came over.
Early fifties, balding, a suit stretched around a gut, eyes narrowing to slits when he smiled.
"All alone, sweetheart? Come on, let me have a drink with you."
I turned him down politely. "Thank you, but I'm not much of a drinker."
He didn't leave. He leaned in a little closer, his voice thick with oily coaxing.
"So you can't drink, still have one with me. Look how many big bosses are here tonight. A girl as pretty as you, it'd be a real shame not to have a little."
Then came the second, and the third.
One after another, each one probing more openly than the last.
I turned down every glass, my smile courteous, my manner calm, not a trace of panic.
Antony watched from not far off. He didn't come over, and he didn't say a word.
I turned to look at him. He had a glass in hand, laughing and chatting with the person beside him, as if he saw nothing at all.
That was when I finally understood it completely.
This was exactly his plan.
Use me to trade for business resources.
In his eyes, I had never been a person.
I was a dish, a card, a thing he could hand off whenever it suited him.
I don't know who went and fetched Carol, but her voice arrived before she did.
"Don't you know how lucky you are?"
"A high-end business dinner like this, a nobody like you getting in at all is more luck than you deserve."
"These bosses are willing to toast you, to give you the time of day, and that's them doing you a favor. And you have the nerve to make a face and turn them down in front of everyone?"
