Richard’s voice echoed through our marble foyer as I descended the staircase.
“That dress screams desperate housewife, not successful businessman’s wife.”
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked quietly, already knowing I wouldn’t like the answer. He laughed, but not the warm laugh I fell in love with five years ago. This was different.
Cold, calculated, like everything else about our marriage lately. “You look like you’re going to a PTA meeting, not networking with the most important investors in the state. Do you have any idea what tomorrow means for my career?”
Tomorrow, my brother Michael’s wedding.
The event that should have been about celebrating love had somehow become Richard’s personal networking opportunity. Every conversation for the past month had centered around which business deals he could secure, which connections he could make, which investors he could impress. “I thought I looked nice,” I said, smoothing down the fabric with hands that trembled slightly.
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