“Lydia, drop the act. I'll divorce Ferris. You'll get what you want soon enough.”
“Slap——”
The blow landed hard across my face.
Ferris's hand hung in the air, trembling. He turned on me and shouted,
“Antonia! You've gone too far! Get home. Now.”
I turned my head back slowly.
My cheek was numb. So was everything else.
I looked into his eyes and found nothing there but rage and disgust. My voice came out thin, weightless.
“Fine. I'm leaving.”
I turned and walked out of the hospital.
Rain poured down outside. I opened my umbrella and stepped into it, mud spattering the hem of my dress within seconds.
When I got home, I peeled the dress off and threw it in the trash.
It was the dress I'd worn the day Ferris and I signed at city hall.
I didn't know why I'd put it on today.
Maybe somewhere deep down, I'd remembered that today was our sixth wedding anniversary.
He never remembered anniversaries.
Six years, and not once.
Ours had been an arranged corporate marriage from the start.
Except my family went bankrupt and my parents died in an accident, while the Farleys only rose higher.
His mother liked me. She'd insisted I marry into the family.
But Ferris resented having his life decided for him, and he never let me forget it.
Then Lydia appeared.
Ferris's coldness thawed overnight. He smiled. He worried. He cared.
I fought him on it. I screamed. I fell apart.
Every time, he looked at me with that flat, hollow stare, like I was a child throwing a tantrum he didn't have time for.
“Know your place. Have a baby. Stop acting like a shrew.”
“Lydia just reminds me of my dead sister. I look out for her a little more, that's all. Don't read into it.”
He said Lydia reminded him of his sister. After that, I had no ground left to stand on.
Three years ago, the day I went into labor, I was hemorrhaging on the delivery table. The doctors called him dozens of times.
He sent back one text.
“Ms. Lambert, I'm out shopping with Lydia. Weekends are my personal time. If it's serious, call 911. File it as a workplace injury.”
My baby didn't make it.
Incidents like that, one after another, each one a blade carving into the same wound.
This marriage had lost any reason to continue a long time ago.
After Lydia was discharged, Ferris grew even colder toward me.
He took her on a trip and didn't come back for days.
My last day at the company happened to fall on the year-end retreat.
The company had booked an entire cruise ship.
Ferris and Lydia stood at the center of the crowd in evening wear, glasses clinking, laughter flowing.
I stood in a corner, silent.
Halfway through the party, Ferris had someone wheel out a cake. He smiled and said,
“We have a special announcement tonight.”
He announced in front of everyone that he was transferring all of the company's core client accounts to Lydia and promoting her to Vice President.
The room erupted.
“Ms. Lambert's been here for years and never got promoted?”
“Oh, please. She's the one who cost us our bonuses last time. Serves her right.”
Ferris turned to me, his tone casual, almost offhand.
“Ms. Lambert, hand your remaining client accounts over to Lydia. Going forward, you'll handle admin.”
Those accounts were the last connections my parents had left me before they died. Ferris knew that.
Lydia walked over with a champagne flute, smiling sweetly.
“Thanks so much, Ms. Lambert. You're so detail-oriented. I'm sure you'll do great in admin. Cheers.”
She took a sip, then paused as though something had just occurred to her.
“Oh, right, Ms. Lambert. You had some old contracts locked in your cabinet. I had someone pull them out so we can get everything squared away today.”
