Chapter 19
DANIEL
I grab Violet by the arm, putting some distance between us and the restroom, steering her down the long, clear hallway that overlooks the main atrium below.
"You have to be careful what the hell you say," I whisper harshly, my jaw clenched as I scan the corridor.
"I didn't know you were bringing your wife here," Violet whispers back, looking at me as she tilts her head. "You never bring her to these things. Not anymore."
"My father requested her presence," I say coldly, before shifting back into corporate mode. "Now, regarding the new satellite telemetry data.”
"We can run a diagnostic pilot next week," she smiles.
That smile of hers. She’s trying to be cheeky with me.
I calculate the metrics in my head. It fully eliminates the data bottleneck. "Fine. Run the diagnostic. If the pneumatic response times match our infrastructure grid, I'll review the contract draft before we fly out next month."
"See? I knew we could come to an agreement," Violet says, that minxy smile returning to her face. She looks me up and down, her eyes lingering on the lines of my suit. "You're looking good. Who's the next mark you're trying to impress today?"
"I always try to impress everyone," I tell her.
"Except your wife," Violet says.
Well that comment struck a nerve, but I don't let my expression waver. Violet will latch unto any hint of drama. I swear, I might as well have had a little sister how annoying she can be sometimes.
"I don't need to impress her," I say, making sure to harden my tone. "I don't need anything from her because I already have her. But if you want to keep pushing forward, then we're going to have to get in the graces of the right people. Let's find your father."
She nods.
"We need to ensure the automated drone corridors align with the next spatial zoning update for the vertical real estate acquisitions," Violet says as we walk.
"My father is pushing to lock down the telemetry data by Friday.
If we don't, the municipal boards are going to delay our integration permits for the whole Denver grid. "
"I'm not rushing the signature, Violet," I reply casually, keeping my hands slid into my pockets as we stroll past the modern exhibits.
"Oh, please, you don’t like rushing?" she laughs, throwing her head back slightly.
We chat some more, but as she speaks, Violet glances over my shoulder, her eyes tracking something behind us. I turn my head, following her gaze down the long, geometric hallway.
A few yards away, Melody is standing near the edge of the atrium. She glances right at us with as ashen expression before she turns around and walks away with absolute purpose. Then she disappears toward the exit.
Fantastic.
I roll my eyes, letting out an irritated breath. What the actual hell am I going to have to deal with when I get home now?
Violet notices my reaction, that knowing, amused smile spreading across her face.
"You're going to have to keep her under control, Dan-Dan. Give her a hobby. Don't you give her distractions like a good husband should?"
"Yah," I mutter with frustration. "I do."
"Well, clearly you're not doing a great job," Violet coos "Even my father knows how to keep his women happy and out of his hair.
He buys them an estate in the south of France, fills a garage with cars they don't drive, hmmm, keeps them too busy spending his money to ever have any need to throw silly questions his way. "
"Yeah?" I say, looking down at her and giving her a little smirk. "What about you? Or are you still unable to find the dreaded happiness?”
“Ha. People like us don’t get to be happy. Not the way others do. We’re too busy changing the world.”
“Yeah and who would even be up for that task anyway,” I rib.
“Of making me happy?”
“Uh huh.”
Violet tilts her head, her violet eyes gleaming playfully under the gallery lights. "You know I only have a few ways to be kept happy and satisfied."
I smile back at her, knowing full well what she means.
"Go and find your wife," Violet says, patting my arm lightly. "You're probably going to have a big fire to put out when you go home."
"Not really," I say, shifting my weight. "But I'll talk to you later."
Reluctantly, I leave Violet and head toward the exit, loathing the fact that I even have to do this.
Really not looking forward to it.
Walking out into the crisp winter air, I find my wife standing just outside the building, shivering slightly in her midnight-blue gown.
The irritation boiling up under my collar is already overheating me in the chill.
This woman is so ungrateful.
She is so damn prissy, acting as though I shouldn't ever talk to another woman ever again, like my job isn't entirely built on high-stakes networking.
I get that she's obsessed with me, and honestly, her submissiveness was one of the traits that made me like her in the first place. Having a wife who is agreeable and submissive is something that’s so hard to find these days unless you pay for it.
When I met Mel, she just gave away her submission willingly in the name of love. It was a beautiful, romantic notion, but we all have to grow up sometime.
I guess I do too, because on top of all the other corporate metrics and family pressures I have to manage, now I have to cater to my wife's fragile feelings.
Swear to God, having a dog would have been better.
You play with the dog, you feed the dog, you leave it in a morning facility where it plays with other dogs, and all it cares about is that it has a luxury place to eat, drink, and shit.
You would think that would be more than enough for a wife I’ve given nothing but absolute luxury to, but apparently… no.
She wants more.
She wants all of my time.
She wants to have her cake and eat it too.
Aggravating.
A long time ago, she told me she'd always support me. And she did, for a while… until reality hit her in the face and she finally realized that to maintain this beautiful fantasy, fairytale lifestyle, it requires constant, ruthless work on my end.
I step up beside her, the cold air biting at my tense face.
"Are you coming back inside?" I ask.
Melody sniffles, quickly wiping away a tear from her cheek before it can even fall. "No."
I want to roll my eyes so badly it hurts. This is it.
"What's wrong with you?" I say flatly, not even bothering to look at her as I stare up at the dark night sky.
"You have to ask that," Melody whines in that way she does when she’s angry but wants to cry.
"Yes. I have to ask," I counter, looking down at her. "I can't read your mind. You always expect me to for some reason."
"Are you expecting me to ignore what your colleague said?"
"About what, Melody?" I ask, sounding far more tired than I actually feel.
"... … Danny, I wanna go home."
"Feel free to have our driver take you home," I reply coldly. "I'm gonna stay at the event because I have work to do."
"Whatever, Danny," she sniffles, shaking her head. "I'm done."
Those words.
She always throws them away like they're supposed to affect me.
In the beginning, they actually used to, but now I'm just so over it.
"Okay then," I reply flatly. "Be done. But I'm gonna go back inside. I'll see you on the surveillance when you get home."
I hear her starting to sob as she turns on her heel and walks away into the winter night.
Not gonna lie, I do care if she's safe.
I'm not a monster.
So I stand firmly at the glass doors, watching through the freezing air until I see Rafi pull the car around and safely let her inside. Once the taillights disappear down the driveway, I turn back toward the gala to spend the rest of the night doing exactly what I came here to do.
The moment I step back into the atrium, my father catches my eye from across the room.
He signals me over.
Glancing toward the doors Melody just walked through, he immediately begins speaking to me in rapid Japanese. The acoustics of the crowded room are loud enough with English conversations, so he doesn't even bother to speak quietly; nobody around us can understand what he's saying anyway.
"What is going on?" my father asks sternly. "Is everything okay with Melody?"
"Yeah," I answer him in Japanese too. "She's just throwing one of her tantrums. I try not to give into it too much, but it's getting to be annoying, and I can't afford to be unfocused."
My father nods slowly, his dark eyes assessing me. "Is she being unruly?"
"She's always unruly," I say, letting a fracture of my true irritation show. "I mean, it was good for a little while, but she gets very jealous and pouty. And honestly, she's ungrateful."
My father steps closer and pats my shoulder twice. His tone is that measured, traditional way he used to lecture me. "You need to keep your wife happy, Daniel."
"Why do I even need a wife?" I ask, the stress of the evening finally bubbling to the surface. "She just told me she wanted a divorce. And honestly, dad, I'm thinking about it because I can't take this kind of pressure. I go home and I'm stressed. I go out and I'm stressed."
"There are other ways you can relieve your stress," my father replies calmly.
"I know that."
"Yes," my father says. "But you cannot have your wife stressed. You will need your wife in your coming years to take care of you when you're old."
I shrug slightly under my tailored suit. "I can always get someone to take care of me."
Suddenly, my father grips both of my shoulders, his hands firm. He stares straight into my eyes, forcing me to completely lock in and pay absolute attention.
"No," he says sternly. "You need someone who will take care of you.
Someone who will be loyal to you, not just for your money.
You need to keep your wife happy. Even if you can't always be there for her, you need to show her that you care for her so she doesn't feel neglected, and she doesn't use her idle hands to try to ruin you. Do you understand?"
"Well, why have a wife?" I argue back, defensive. "I mean, I can pay a nurse. They’ll be loyal if I have money."
"Yeah?" My father tilts his head with a cold smirk on his face.
"And what happens when you lose all of it?
Or what happens if there arises a situation where a spouse is called to testify?
A paid nurse will sell your secrets to the highest bidder.
A loyal wife cannot be compelled to testify against her husband. "
"I'm not doing anything wrong," I state firmly.
My father smiles with a chilling, knowing expression. "There will always come a time where everybody needs to get their hands dirty, Daniel."
Suddenly, he lets go of my shoulders and effortlessly switches back to fluent English, and his public executive mask slides perfectly back into place.
"Keep your wife happy at all costs," he says deadpan. "Because if she becomes a threat that will ruin you, or ruin what we have built... then you're gonna have to deal with her in other ways that you don't want to deal with."
Without waiting for a response, my father turns and glides back toward his circle of international bank execs, leaving me standing alone under the bright gallery lights.
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