5. Chapter Five #3
Harrison looks over at me, surprised by the bitterness in my tone. But then he laughs and shakes his head. "Oh, come on, Inés. Don't be like that. You know Margaux is good for business."
Despite Diane's words, I suddenly feel very, very tired of this conversation. So I just shrug, turning my attention back to the crowd. "Sure," I say flatly. "Good for business. But we've built so much of this together, and I feel like I'm being pushed aside for someone who just waltzed in here..."
I stop, feeling like I might start crying if I go on. And I don't want that. Not here.
Harrison sighs, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. "It's not like that, babe," he murmurs, trying to soothe me. "Margaux is...she's an old friend who needs this. You understand, right? She's had a rough time and needed some help getting back on her feet."
"What are you talking about? I've been giving her all the help I could."
"I know you have," he says, kissing my temple. "And I'm grateful for that. But there's more to it. She...well, she left her husband in France and came back with nothing. We're just giving her a hand up, and she's repaid us by leaps and bounds."
I blink at this new information, trying to process what it means. Why didn't he tell me this before? And what about me? I've given him years of my life and still feel like I'm barely holding on.
"I just feel like she's taking over everything I worked for," I whisper, my throat tight. "And you're letting her."
Harrison sighs heavily, looking pained. "Inés, it's not a competition." His arm is still around me, but it feels like a cage now. "She brings something...a certain sensibility, that I think is good for the brand."
I bristle at his words. As if Margaux has some magic touch that I'll never possess. Or that bond, that thing that I can never break, never fully understand.
"I'm part of the brand too," I mutter, not quite meeting his eyes. "Or at least, I thought I was."
"You are," he says quickly, but it sounds hollow to my ears. "But maybe...maybe this is a chance for you to focus on other aspects of the business. You know, the day-to-day operations."
I stare at him, incredulous. Is he seriously suggesting that I step aside even more? That I should be content with being a glorified office manager while he and Margaux run the show? Is he so oblivious that he doesn't even know what it sounds like?
"I don't want to focus on operations," I say quietly, my anger turning to something colder inside me. "That's not why I came here. That's not why I married you."
He looks taken aback by my words, but I don't care anymore. I can't keep pretending that everything is okay when it so clearly isn't.
"Inés..." He reaches for me again, but I step back, out of his reach.
"No, Harrison," I say firmly, feeling stronger now that the words are finally spilling out. "This isn't fair. You're treating me like I'm some...some secretary or something. And Margaux...she doesn't even care about this place. Not really."
He frowns, opening his mouth to argue, but I keep going.
"She just wants to be in the spotlight, basking in your reflected glory.
And you're letting her because it makes you feel important to have her by your side again.
" I shake my head, disgusted with us both.
"But where does that leave me? Where does our marriage even fit into this little fantasy you're living? "
Harrison's face has gone pale, his eyes wide with shock. But before he can respond, someone calls his name from across the room — another author wanting a moment of his time.
"I have to go," he mutters, glancing over his shoulder like he's grateful for the interruption.
I watch him walk away without another word to me, my heart breaking all over again. But then I feel something else, something stronger, rise up inside me: resolve.
As I stand there alone in the middle of the ballroom, watching him disappear into the crowd, I make my decision. No more. I'm fucking done being pushed aside. I'm fucking done being invisible in my own life.
If Harrison won't stand up for me, if he won't fight for our marriage, then I will.
Because the truth is, Diane was right. Making a scene tonight won't change anything. But maybe there are other ways to take back what's mine.
Out of the corner of my eye, as if sensing my gaze, I catch sight of Cynthia Locke watching me from across the room. She's seated in a prime position, a knowing smile on her face, as if she's orchestrated this whole moment just for her entertainment. And maybe she has.
But I won't let her have the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. I hold her gaze for a long moment before turning away, my chin held high.
When I buried my father, I stood there at the grave site and promised myself that I wouldn't end up alone, like he did. But as I look around this room full of people who don't even see me, I realize I've been alone for a lot longer than I thought.
Tomorrow morning, I'll make that call. And then, we'll see what happens.