Chapter 6
"I think the reports submitted under his name tell an incomplete story."
He slid several documents toward me.
There were strategy drafts, revision histories, project assignments, and performance summaries.
Most were records I had worked with every day.
I recognized the dates.
The late-night revisions.
The recommendations I had written after weeks of examining risk exposures other teams had missed.
One report had nearly destroyed me.
I remembered sitting in a hospital waiting room, my back aching beneath a compression garment, while a doctor ran ninety minutes behind schedule.
Preston had called that afternoon.
He needed revised numbers before a presentation.
I told him I was waiting for a medical appointment.
He responded with a frustrated sigh.
"Vivian, everyone has problems. I need you to be professional."
So I opened my laptop beneath the fluorescent lights and finished the analysis.
The presentation earned Preston enthusiastic praise.
That evening he came home with an expensive bottle of champagne.
He didn't ask whether I had seen the doctor.
Now the report lay in front of me.
His name was printed across the cover.
Mine appeared only in the internal drafting history.
I pressed my thumb against the paper.
"He told me the presentation was his," I said.
Gideon looked at me for a long moment.
"Did you believe him?"
"I believed we were building something together."
The words sounded pathetic once spoken aloud.
I swallowed.
"At first, he asked for help. Then he started referring to the work as his projects. When I objected, he told me executives needed one clear voice in front of investors."
"And you accepted that?"
I stared at the table.
"After the fire, public appearances became difficult."
Gideon's expression shifted.
Not into pity.
Into understanding.
"Preston said clients were uncomfortable seeing me," I continued. "He told me it would be easier if I stayed behind the scenes. He said my work mattered even if nobody knew my name."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"I believed that too."
Gideon closed the report.
"The firm employed you for your judgment, Vivian. Not your ability to make your husband look competent."
I looked away.
For years, I had measured my professional worth by how effectively I could support Preston without embarrassing him.
I had confused invisibility with loyalty.
And he had benefited from every moment of it.
"Why are you showing me this now?" I asked.
"Because the equity decision is approaching, and the review uncovered a serious attribution problem."