3. Chapter Three Ruby
Chapter Three: Ruby
M y mom had always said to set my sights high.
I don’t think she had ever expected this.
I stepped into the fundraiser, the sharp click of my heels on the polished floor announcing my arrival before the applause even began.
It swelled around me like a wave I rode with a grin plastered on my face and my spine steel-straight.
I really hadn’t expected there to be so many people so incredibly enthusiastic about a District Attorney election, but I had been wrong.
Boston was stagnant at best, but more like deteriorating. DA Lenta had been a good enough mentor, but he had to make compromises.
In his thirty years of service, he’d made peace with the corruption that ran through the city’s veins like poison. I wasn’t willing to do the same. This crowd knew that. They believed in me.
When Lenta died two weeks ago, the city went into damage control mode. Instead of appointing a replacement, the mayor pushed for a snap election— emergency measures to restore public trust, or so they claimed. Personally, I think they just didn’t want to get their hands dirty choosing someone.
Or maybe they didn’t expect me to step forward.
Whatever the case, Mayor Sloane seemed to like me. I was a good option for him. That wasn’t really the consolation he thought it was, though.
“Ruby! We’re with you all the way to the DA’s office!” someone shouted over the crowd’s roar.
“Thank you!” I called back, shaking hands as I moved through the room, my touch firm, my smile unwavering. The scent of expensive perfumes and colognes mixed with the tang of ambition in the air. This was Boston, and these were my people—the ones who believed I could clean up our streets.
“Ms. Marquez, your stance on crime is exactly what this city needs,” a silver-haired woman said, clasping both of her hands over mine. Her voice held the accent of old money and Beacon Hill.
“I’m just trying to make a difference, Mrs. Lockwood,” I replied, locking eyes with her to show I meant every word. “And I can’t do it without support from citizens like you.”
“Call me Helen, please. And we’ll be behind you every step of the way.”
Her endorsement warmed me more than the wine they were serving. How many of these rounds did I have to do? I knew they worked, but I was so tired, and it was always the same fucking thing.
“Ms. Marquez, we’re…uh, big fans of your policy proposals,” the man stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing.
“Please, call me Ruby,” I corrected gently. “And thank you. It means the world to me that my work resonates with you.”
“Absolutely, Ruby. You’re going to change things. We believe in you,” his partner added with a warmth that reached her eyes.
I caught snippets of conversations as I navigated the throng, my name woven into discussions about the future of Boston.
My campaign manager Aleksey Ivanov—or Alek, as he had rebranded himself to keep voters from spiraling into Red Scare paranoia—kept insisting that I “connect” with the people. ” Smile more. Kiss all the babies.
I didn’t see the point.
What was my competition? I had been groomed for this position for years, first as an intern, then as a legal assistant, then an assistant district attorney.
When Lenta announced his retirement, it was a foregone conclusion that I would step in and take over.
Then he had the audacity to die…and now I had to do the whole dog-and-pony-show of holding hands and kissing babies way before I was ready for it.
It felt so disingenuous.
But Alek was rarely wrong, and I was no campaign expert…so I did what he told me and played the part.
As I approached the small stage at the front of the room, Alek intercepted me, sharp cheekbones sending a message to anyone who might mess with me that we were not to be fucked with. I knew better—my best friend was a teddy bear under all that intensity.
“How is it going, Ms. Marquez?”
“You literally come over to my house for dinner every other week,” I said. “You can call me Ruby.”
A smirk. “I’m going to call you Ms. Marquez…or maybe even District Attorney Marquez,“ he said, the smirk deepening. “You look like you’re about to keel over. Need a rescue?”
I paused, considering. Alek had been with me since the beginning, and his counsel had never steered me wrong. If he thought I needed these glad-handing sessions, then I probably did.
“Just tell me I don’t have to give a speech,” I said, half-pleading.
He shrugged one of his massive shoulders. “Engagement is already high. A few words could help, but it’s not mandatory.”
I sighed in relief. “Okay, maybe just a thank you and then we can get out of here.”
He nodded, looking toward the bar. “Julian is looking for you.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Did you invite him?”
“No, but it’s good he came. You’re still legally married, right?”
“Technically,” I muttered, glancing over to see Julian waving, a whiskey neat in hand. He looked every bit the polished politician he always wanted to be, right down to the navy suit that complemented his boyish charm. Once upon a time, that charm had worked on me.
Alek leaned in closer, his voice dropping. “It looks better for you, Ruby. The voters need to see stability.”
Stability. That was a laugh. The only stable thing in my life right now was my career, and even that felt precarious with the whole election circus.
“And honestly,” Alek continued. “You shouldn’t forget that he’s doing you a kindness.”
I shot Alek a look that could melt glass, but he was already turning away, his job done—for now. He knew better than to push me too hard, but he always made sure I saw the full picture. That was why I kept him around, even when I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
“Excuse me,” I murmured to a cluster of supporters as I threaded my way through the crowd.
My heels clicked against the hardwood floor, a steady rhythm amidst the hum of conversation and clinking glasses.
I moved carefully; sidestepping a waiter here, a small nod there, all while dreading talking to Julian.
My husband.
My ex .
“Looks like you’re running your own gauntlet tonight,” Julian said as I walked up, that crooked half-smile tugging at his mouth—the same one that used to disarm me before I knew better. His dark brown hair was perfectly in place, hazel eyes boring into me as he stared.
“Only the brave dare to run, right?” I replied, matching his tone. The banter was familiar, easy—like muscle memory. Dangerous, too.
“Bravery has always been your strong suit, Ruby.” He leaned against the bar, nonchalant, yet ever so watchful.
“Speaking of suits, you clean up well when you want to.” I nodded at him. The compliment was an easy way to keep him on my side: the man loved suits, almost as much as he loved his own reflection. “But then again, you always did.”
“Needed to look the part, didn’t I? Especially here, supporting Boston’s potential new DA. First husband.” He smiled at me.
“I think it would make you like…I don’t know. Boston’s honorary first ex-husband.”
“That come with a pension?”
“Only if you lobby the city council for it,” I shot back, taking a glass of sparkling water from the bartender.
“Sounds like a plan.”
I sighed. “Thanks for coming. And for not filing the papers yet.” Aleksey was right; for all his faults, Julian was being kind, and this was a truth that needed to be acknowledged. “You know how delicate things are right now.”
“Of course, Ruby.” His gaze softened. “I’m not here to make waves. Rosie needs stability. We both do.”
“Right,” I agreed, a simple word that carried the weight of our shared responsibilities, the unspoken understanding that some ties aren’t easily severed. “She does. Thank you.”
“Plus, I’ll get better alimony if you’re on DA salary…”
I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. “You know that’s not how it works. In any case, you always were the pragmatist.”
“Just setting realistic expectations,” he said, finishing his whiskey.
He leaned in closer to me, dropping his voice but speaking casually.
Just quietly enough that people around him couldn’t hear us, but just loud enough that it didn’t feel like we were whispering to each other.
The man was a master at keeping up appearances.
No wonder Alek wanted to keep him around.
I sighed. “Well, you know all about that.”
“Look, Ruby, I mean it. Whatever happens, I’m here for Rosie—and for you. We’re still a family, no matter what. And that was a joke. You know Rosie is my priority, no matter what.”
I bit my lower lip. “It’s weird, right? She’s the only reason you didn’t file years ago.”
“Really? We’re getting into this right now?”
I paused, considering whether I really wanted to dredge up the past in the middle of what was supposed to be a light-hearted, albeit exhausting, campaign event.
But Julian had a way of prodding at the sore spots, sometimes without even realizing it—or maybe he did realize it, and that was his tactic all along.
Stir the pot just enough to see what floated to the surface.
Years ago, this would have been a huge fight. Now…it didn’t seem to matter much.
“Look, I’m just being honest,” I said. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s no animosity between us.
When you adopted her, she became your child.
I was never going to take her away from you.
If you were afraid of that, or you’re afraid of it now, I want to make it clear that it’s never going to happen.
Whatever happens with this campaign, with my career, with my life, with the end of our marriage—doesn’t matter. Rosie is yours.”
He studied me for a long moment, the noise of the room fading into a dull hum. This was the crux of it, I realized. Not the campaign, not the marriage, but Rosie. She was the link that kept us tethered, however loosely.
“Rosie is ours ,“ he said finally. “That’s what we agreed to. That’s what she believes.”