14. Theo
THEO
I was standing in the kitchen at Lumière when I saw Bianca walk in through the dining room.
The lunch service was over. The staff were clearing the last tables, resetting for the evening, and I had been tasting a reduction for the evening menu without really tasting anything at all.
The spoon was still in my hand when I looked up and saw her threading her way between the tables. My hand stilled on the counter.
She looked composed. Her hair was pulled back in a low twist, a wine-colored coat buttoned over dark trousers, her bag tucked under one arm. Everything precise. Everything in place, like always.
I set the spoon down and walked out to meet her.
She smiled when she saw me coming. "Theo. I thought I'd find you here."
I didn't return it. "What do you want, Bianca?"
"To talk." She glanced around the dining room, at the waitstaff folding linens, the light coming in through the windows. "Somewhere private?"
I gestured toward the office at the back and held the door open. She walked past me, close enough that I caught the faint scent of her perfume, and I followed her in. The space was small, just a desk and two chairs and invoices stacked on one side. I didn't sit down. Neither did she.
"I wanted to see how you were," she said. Her voice was soft, careful, like she was approaching something fragile. "I know this must be difficult for you."
"Difficult."
"Lena leaving." She stepped closer, her eyes on mine. "I told her the truth, Theo. About us."
The words landed like a punch. My pulse hammered in my ears, heat flooding my face and neck. "About us?"
"That we've been together." She said it evenly, like she was stating a simple fact. "I didn't want her to find out some other way. She deserved to hear it from me, to know that it's real."
I stared at her. "There is no us, Bianca."
"I know it's complicated right now?—"
"There's nothing complicated about it." My voice came out harder than I meant it to. "You lied to her."
She blinked. "I didn't lie."
"Yes, you did." I took a step toward her. "You told her we were having an affair. We're not. We never have been."
"Theo." She reached out, her hand hovering near my arm. "I know you turned me away the other night, but that doesn't change what's been happening between us for months. The time we've spent together, the way you look at me, the way you've talked to me about your marriage?—"
"The way I—" I stepped back, putting space between us. "Jesus Christ, Bianca. I look at you the same way I look at every other person who works for me. You manage my schedule. You handle the press. That's all this has ever been."
Her expression didn't change. "You don't mean that."
"I do."
"You're upset," she said quietly, her voice dropping into something that sounded like sympathy. "I understand. This is a lot to process. But now that she's gone, now that we don't have to hide anymore?—"
"She asked for a divorce because of what you told her." The words came out rough. "You destroyed my marriage."
"Your marriage was already broken, Theo." Her tone stayed calm, almost gentle. "You told me that yourself. You said the two of you barely spoke anymore, that she didn't understand your work, that you felt like you were living with a stranger. You said?—"
"I never said any of that."
"Theo—"
"You're fired."
She went still. For the first time since she'd walked in, her composure cracked. "What?"
"Your contract is over. Effective immediately." I crossed to the desk, pulled open the drawer, and took out my phone. My hands felt steady now, the anger burning cold and clear. "I'll have the lawyers send the termination paperwork by the end of the day."
"You can't be serious."
"I am." I looked up at her. "And I'm going to tell everyone in this industry exactly what you did.
Every chef, every investor, every producer who asks why you're not working with me anymore—they're going to know you lied to my wife, that you invented an affair to destroy my marriage, and that you're not someone anyone should trust."
Her face paled. "That would ruin me."
"Good."
"Theo, please." Her voice was shaking now. "You don't understand. I—I did this for you. For us. You've been trapped in that marriage for years, and she doesn't even see what you've built, what you've accomplished. She doesn't appreciate you the way I do."
"You ruined my marriage," I said again. The words felt heavy in my mouth. "You told her a lie and you gave her proof that sounded real, and she believed you because I wasn't there enough for her to know it couldn't be true. That's on me. But you—" I stopped, looking past her. "You need to leave."
"I love you," she said. The words came out in a rush, desperate and raw.
"I've loved you for years, Theo. I thought if she was gone, if you could just see what we could have together, you'd finally understand that I'm the one who's been by your side this whole time, the one who's supported your work, who's believed in you?—"
"Get out."
"Theo, please, I?—"
"Get out."
She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes wet, her hands trembling where they clutched her bag. Then she turned and walked to the door. It closed behind her with a soft click.
I stood there, my breath coming hard, my hands braced on the edge of the desk. The rage was still there, hot and sharp under my ribs, but underneath it was something colder.
"Theo."
I turned. Marcus stood in the doorway, his leather portfolio tucked under one arm, his tie loose, the top button of his shirt undone. He looked tired.
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
"Long enough." He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. "You all right?"
"No."
He nodded, like he'd expected that answer, and set the portfolio on the desk. He leaned against the edge, his arms folded, his eyes steady on mine. "Lena asked for a divorce."
It wasn't a question. I looked at him. "How did you know?"
"You just told me." He gestured toward the door Bianca had walked through. "Also, you've been a wreck for two days and you weren't answering my calls. I figured something happened."
I dragged a hand through my hair. "Bianca told her we were having an affair.
She described one of my shirts—the green one, the henley with the worn collar—said it was at her place, that I left it there the last time I came over.
She said Lena and I had been having problems and that I'd told her about it. None of it was true. None of it."
"I know."
"You—" I stopped. "You know?"
"I worked it out." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "Bianca's been circling you for months, Theo. Anyone who was paying attention could see it. You turned her down, so she went to Lena and burned the bridge so you couldn't go back to your wife even if you wanted to. It's not exactly subtle."
"Then why didn't you say something?"
"Would you have listened?"
I didn't answer. We both knew I wouldn't have.
Marcus watched me for a moment, his expression unreadable, then straightened. "So what are you going to do about it?"
"I fired her." The anger flared again, hot and bitter. "I'm going to make sure she never works in this business again. I'm going to tell everyone what she did, and she's going to be finished."
"That's not what I'm asking." He looked at me, his eyes steady. "How are you going to fix this with Lena?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. My mind was racing, grasping for an answer that made sense, something concrete I could do.
"I'll—I can give her whatever she wants.
Anything. A settlement, the house, half of everything I own.
More than half. She can have the restaurants, the show, all of it if that's what it takes.
I'll set up an account, transfer the funds today?—"
"You think that's going to fix it?"
"It's a start, isn't it?" I heard the desperation in my own voice. "She deserves it. She's put up with this life for twelve years, and I can make sure she never has to worry about money again, that she has everything she could ever?—"
"Theo." His voice was quiet. "Money is what ruined your marriage in the first place."
The words hit me like cold water. I stared at him. "What?"
"The restaurants. The show. The empire." He gestured around the office, at the invoices, the blueprints for the next location pinned to the wall. "All of this. You've been chasing it for years, building it bigger and bigger, and she's been sitting at home waiting for you to come back."
"That's not—" I stopped, turned toward the blueprints on the wall. "The money was for her, Marcus. Everything I built, it was all for her. I wanted to give her the kind of life she deserved. I wanted her to have everything."
"Did she ask you to build it?"
"No, but?—"
"Did she ask you to open twenty restaurants?" His tone didn't change, but there was something relentless in it now. "To fly to five countries a month filming a show? To put your name on every product and every menu and every billboard between here and New York?"
"She knew what I was trying to do." My voice came out defensive, rough. "I wanted to give her security. I wanted her to never have to worry, to have the best of everything?—"
"When's the last time you spent an afternoon with her?" Marcus asked.
I stared at him. The question should have been simple. It wasn't.
"Not a dinner where you checked your phone six times," he continued.
"Not a charity event where she stood next to you while you worked the room and shook hands with investors.
When's the last time you sat down with your wife and did absolutely nothing but be with her? No work. No calls. Just you and Lena."
I didn't know.
God, I didn't know.
The silence stretched between us. I opened my mouth. Nothing came. I tried to think back—weeks, months, maybe longer. There had to be something. A morning. An evening. Something.
But there wasn't.
"What does she want, Theo?"
I looked at him, my mouth dry. "I?—"
"What does Lena actually want?"
I couldn't answer. The silence was louder now, filling the room, and in it I felt something crack open inside my chest. I had spent twelve years building an empire for her, and I didn't know what she wanted.
I didn't know when we'd last spent a whole day together.
I didn't know what made her happy anymore, what she did when I wasn't there, what she thought about while I was halfway across the world tasting food in someone else's kitchen.
I had been so focused on giving her everything that I hadn't noticed I'd stopped giving her me.
"I wasn't there," I said finally. The words came out quiet, almost too quiet to hear. "I wasn't paying attention. I thought—I thought the work was enough. I thought if I could just give her everything she'd ever need, that would be… that would be what a husband does."
I trailed off. Marcus didn't say anything. He just waited, his arms still folded, his expression unchanged.
"I neglected her," I said. The admission felt like swallowing glass, sharp and painful all the way down. "I built all of this, and I left her behind. I stopped sitting down with her. I stopped asking her how she was. I stopped—" My voice caught. "I stopped seeing her."
Marcus nodded slowly. "Yeah. You did."
I had to look away. I might have lost her. Not because of Bianca, not really—because I had stopped seeing her years ago and hadn't even noticed. Because I had been so busy building something I thought she needed that I'd forgotten to ask if it was what she wanted.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the ring. The gold caught the light, smooth and plain, worn from years on her hand. The engraving was on the inside where no one else could see it. Always.
"I have to win her back," I said.
"How?"
I looked down at the ring in my palm. It was warm from being against my chest, small and simple and perfect. I didn't have an answer. I didn't know what she wanted. I didn't know where to start. I only knew that I couldn't let her go, not like this, not when I had finally seen what I'd done.
"I don't know," I said.
Marcus picked up his portfolio and straightened his tie. He paused at the door, looked back at me. "Then you'd better figure it out."
He left.
I stood there in the empty office, the ring warm in my hand, and for the first time in years I had absolutely no idea what to do next.