Carleigh looked at herself in the full-length mirror of the hotel bathroom. The woman staring back was a stranger. She wore a sharp, tailored black blazer and matching trousers she had just bought from the hotel boutique. Her lips were painted a deep, blood-red-a shade Kenton had once said was "too aggressive."
She snapped the cap onto the lipstick tube. Aggressive was exactly what she needed.
She took a cab to the Parker Industries tower in Midtown. The glass skyscraper pierced the grey sky like a needle. She walked through the revolving doors.
The receptionists, two women who usually looked through Carleigh as if she were made of glass, stopped their whispering. Carleigh didn't shrink. She walked straight past the security desk, swiping her badge. It still worked.
In the elevator, three junior analysts were huddled in the corner, scrolling on a tablet.
"Did you see the stock dip?" one whispered. "Rumor is Parker's distracted. The ballerina thing."
"I heard his wife is just a decoration piece," another snickered. "Never see her at any real business functions. Probably just sits at home all day."
Carleigh turned around slowly. The elevator fell silent. The men hadn't recognized her out of her usual muted, wife-at-home attire.
"Actually," Carleigh said, her voice cool and projecting easily in the small space, "the 'decoration piece' is resigning. And if I were you, I'd worry less about my marriage and more about the Q3 audit trails. I know who's been padding the expense accounts."
The elevator dinged at the 40th floor. Carleigh stepped out, leaving three pale faces behind her.
The executive floor was buzzing. She walked to her desk-a small, cramped station right outside Kenton's massive double doors. It was humiliatingly placed, designed so he could shout orders at her without using the intercom.
She grabbed a cardboard box from the supply closet and started dumping her things into it. A few pens. A stress ball. A framed photo of her mother.
"Well, well."
The voice was grating. Secretary Davis stood over her, arms crossed. Davis was fifty, bitter, and had been in love with Kenton since he was an intern. She hated Carleigh with a passion that bordered on religious.
Davis dropped a heavy stack of files onto Carleigh's desk, right on top of her hand. Carleigh flinched, pulling her fingers back.
"Mr. Parker needs these collated and bound for the noon meeting. Double-sided. And get the coffee started. He's in a mood."
Carleigh looked at the files. Then she looked at Davis.
"No," Carleigh said.
Davis blinked, her mouth falling open. "Excuse me?"
"I said no. I don't work here anymore." Carleigh continued packing, placing a ceramic mug into the box.
"You can't just quit," Davis scoffed. "You're under contract. And besides, where would you go? Back to that crumbling shack your father lives in? Without Mr. Parker's money, you're nothing."
Heads were turning. The open-plan office had gone quiet.
Carleigh picked up a letter opener from the desk. She twirled it idly between her fingers. "I'd be careful, Davis. I know about the 'catering' invoices you file for your nephew's tuition. Does Kenton know?"
Davis's face drained of color. She took a step back. "You... you wouldn't."
"Try me."
The elevator doors at the end of the hall slid open. Kenton stepped out. He looked like a thundercloud in a bespoke suit. He spotted Carleigh immediately.
He didn't walk; he marched. The air seemed to vacate the room as he approached. He ignored Davis, who was trembling, and zeroed in on Carleigh.
"In my office," he growled. "Now."
Carleigh placed the last item in her box. She looked up at him. "If this is about the divorce, talk to my lawyer. If it's about work, I've resigned."
"I don't give a damn about your resignation." Kenton reached out and wrapped his hand around her upper arm. His grip was tight, bordering on painful. "You are making a scene."
"You made the scene when you dragged your mistress to the hospital on our anniversary," Carleigh shot back, loud enough for the entire floor to hear.
Gasps rippled through the office.
Kenton's jaw tightened. He didn't speak. He just yanked her toward his office door, pulling her off balance so she had to stumble to keep up. He shoved the door open and dragged her inside, slamming it shut behind them. The lock clicked with a sound of finality.
