Chapter 3
Over the next eighteen months, I helped him create a proposal for the Mercer Renewal Initiative. It was not glamorous work. There were public hearings, endless spreadsheets, tense meetings with city officials, and long evenings spent rewriting plans that seemed destined to fail.
But the plan worked.
Small businesses received affordable leases. An old warehouse became a training center. A neglected stretch of riverfront became a public park.
Richard received most of the credit.
He had never asked me to stand beside him when the cameras arrived.
I had been content to remain behind the scenes.
Then I met Dominic.
At first, Dominic admired my intelligence. He asked questions about the project and listened when I spoke. He told me I was different from the women he usually met.
I believed him.
By the time we married, I had left my firm and declined a position on Richard’s advisory board.
Dominic said it was not necessary for me to keep working.
“You’ve done enough,” he had told me. “Let me take care of our future.”
I had mistaken that sentence for love.
Richard’s voice brought me back.
“Dominic knows why you’re attending.”
“Does he?”
“He knows you are my guest. He may not know anything beyond that.”
“Will he be embarrassed?”
Richard looked at me then.
“I am not bringing you there to embarrass anyone.”
I looked down at my hands.
“I don’t want a scene.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then what do you want?”
His answer came after a pause.
“I want you to stop allowing other people to tell your story.”
The car slowed near the river.
The Meridian Hotel rose ahead of us, its windows glowing against the dark sky. Valets moved beneath white umbrellas while guests stepped from sleek cars in gowns, tuxedos, and winter coats.
I felt my stomach tighten.
Richard noticed.
“You can still ask me to turn around.”
“I won’t.”
“Why?”
I looked through the window at the hotel entrance.
“Because I’m tired of leaving rooms before anyone asks me to.”
Richard’s expression softened.
“That,” he said, “is the answer I was hoping for.”
Inside, the gala was already in motion.
Music drifted from the ballroom, elegant and restrained. Crystal chandeliers hung above the reception hall, scattering light across polished floors and mirrored walls. A string quartet played near the grand staircase while servers carried champagne through the crowd.
People noticed Richard immediately.
Conversations shifted as we entered. Heads turned. A senator’s wife stepped forward to greet him. Two executives from a construction firm left their table to shake his hand.