The morning sun hit Victoria's face like an accusation. She woke up alone, stretched diagonally across the massive bed. The sheets on the other side were pristine, unwrinkled. A cold reminder of the night before.
Downstairs, the house was already buzzing. Victoria could hear the sharp click-clack of Eleanor's heels on the marble foyer.
She dressed quickly-a conservative navy sheath dress, pearls. The uniform of the repentant wife.
When she reached the breakfast room, Eleanor was inspecting the silverware.
Where is Julian? Eleanor asked without looking up.
He left early for the office, Victoria lied. She poured herself coffee, her hand steady.
Eleanor turned. Her eyes scanned Victoria's body, lingering on her abdomen as if she had X-ray vision. And? Was the night productive?
Victoria took a sip of coffee. It burned her tongue. He was... exhausted, Eleanor. The market volatility.
Eleanor slammed a silver spoon onto the table. Excuses! Men are never too exhausted for what they want. If he is tired, it is because you are not inspiring him.
Victoria set her cup down. I am doing my best.
Your best is not enough. Eleanor snapped her fingers. Mrs. Jiang!
The housekeeper appeared with a tiered bento box. It was lacquered black wood, tied with a gold silk ribbon.
Unagi, Eleanor said. Eel. It promotes stamina. You will take this to him for lunch. Sit with him. Ensure he eats it. Remind him of his home.
I have a meeting with the charity board at noon, Victoria tried.
Cancel it. Eleanor turned back to the silverware. Your priority is Sterling Corp's future, not saving whales.
Two hours later, Victoria stood in the lobby of the Sterling Tower. The glass and steel structure pierced the Manhattan sky like a needle.
She carried the bento box. It felt heavy, like a bomb she was transporting.
The receptionist, a young girl named Sarah who looked at Victoria with a mix of pity and awe, smiled. Mrs. Sterling! Julian-Mr. Sterling-is in a strategy meeting, but I can buzz you up.
Thank you, Sarah.
Victoria took the private executive elevator. It rose smoothly, fifty floors in seconds.
The doors opened to the executive suite. It was quiet here. Thick carpets absorbed sound. The walls were glass.
Victoria walked toward Julian's corner office. The blinds were partially drawn, slats of aluminum cutting the view into strips.
She reached for the handle, then stopped.
Through the gap in the blinds, she saw them.
Julian was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair. He was laughing.
It wasn't the cruel laugh from last night. It was a genuine laugh. His head was thrown back, his eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked five years younger.
Elena was sitting on the edge of his desk.
She was wearing a skirt that was definitely not regulation length. Her legs were crossed, swinging slightly. She held a tablet, reading something to him.
She stopped reading and said something. She reached out and brushed a piece of lint-or nothing-off his lapel. Her hand lingered.
Julian didn't swat her away. He smiled at her. A soft, indulgent smile.
Victoria felt like she had been punched in the gut.
She looked down at the bento box in her hand. The unagi for stamina. The pathetic attempt to buy his affection with food.
She felt ridiculous. She felt small.
Elena looked up. She saw movement through the blinds. Her eyes locked with Victoria's.
Elena didn't look away. She didn't jump off the desk. She smiled. A slow, triumphant smirk. She leaned closer to Julian, whispering something in his ear.
Julian turned his head, but Victoria had already moved.
She backed away from the door. Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps.
She walked quickly down the corridor toward the service area. There was a large, industrial trash can there.
She didn't hesitate. She opened the bento box. The smell of grilled eel and sweet sauce wafted up.
She dumped it. The rice, the eel, the gold ribbon. All of it.
She slammed the lid of the trash can shut.
Mrs. Sterling?
Victoria spun around. Xavier, Julian's executive assistant, stood there holding a stack of files. He looked at the trash can, then at her empty hands.
Hello, Xavier, Victoria said. Her voice was brittle.
Did you... need something? Xavier asked. He glanced toward the office, knowing exactly who was in there.
No, Victoria said. I was just leaving.
She walked past him toward the elevator. She pressed the button.
The arrow lit up. Down.
Escape.
But as she waited, the anger returned. It wasn't the hot rage from the club. It was colder. Sharper.
Why should she run? She was the wife. She was the future mother of his heir. She was the one with the ring.
Elena was a squatter.
The elevator dinged. The doors opened.
Victoria didn't get in.
She turned around. She smoothed her dress. She adjusted her pearls.
Xavier watched her, confused.
Change of plans, Xavier, she said.
She walked back toward the office. She didn't walk softly this time. Her heels struck the floor with a rhythmic, martial beat.
She wasn't going to deliver lunch. She was going to deliver a message.
