Chapter 15 #2
The thought freezes mid-formation because it makes no sense.
But Victoria sought Emma out at that café, delivered a calculated speech designed to undermine her confidence, to make her question our relationship.
And now she's here, at the same luncheon I'm attending, talking intimately with the man who may or may not be funding Emma’s dream.
That can’t be a coincidence. Can it?
I watch as Victoria says something that makes Vance laugh. She touches his arm again, and he covers her hand with his own. The gesture is brief but telling.
They're sleeping together.
My hands curl into fists beneath the table. Every instinct I have screams to march across the ballroom, to confront Victoria, to demand she stay the fuck away out of my life and away from the woman I love.
But I can't.
Because I have no proof. Just suspicion and a terrible, growing certainty that Victoria is playing a game I don’t know the rules to.
I force myself to look away, to focus on the remains of the blueberry cheesecake on my plate.
This is what Victoria fucking does. She schemes, manipulates, finds leverage and exploits people. She did it throughout our marriage, turning every disagreement into an opportunity to undermine my confidence, to make me question my own judgment.
I need to stop this shit right now.
But how? I can't exactly accuse my ex-wife of sabotaging my girlfriend's business pitch based on seeing her talk to Vance at a charity luncheon. And even if I could prove Victoria's involvement, what would I do with that information?
Confront her? She'd deny everything, probably twist it to make me look paranoid or controlling.
Talk to Vance? And say what, exactly? That my ex-wife might be trying to influence his investment decisions? He'd laugh me out of his office.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out with unsteady hands.
Emma: It went amazing! He loved it!
The text is followed by three celebration emojis, her excitement palpable even through the screen.
I stare at the message, my heart in my throat.
She thinks she succeeded. And maybe she did. Maybe I'm wrong about all of this. Maybe Victoria's presence here is pure coincidence, her familiarity with Vance nothing more than social networking.
Maybe Emma nailed that pitch so thoroughly that whatever influence Victoria might have won't matter.
But looking across the ballroom at my ex-wife, watching her whisper something in Vance's ear that makes him laugh, I don't believe it.
Victoria is up to something. And whatever it is, it's going to hurt Emma.
I type out a response, my fingers clumsy on the screen.
Me: That's amazing! I'm so proud of you. Can't wait to hear all about it.
I look up again, searching for Victoria and Vance at the bar, but they've moved. I scan the ballroom, finally spotting them near one of the tall windows overlooking Central Park. They're standing close together, Victoria's hand on his arm again, their heads bent together in conversation.
I should leave. Should get the fuck out of here before I do something reckless like march over there and make a scene.
Then Victoria's eyes find mine across the ballroom.
For a moment, we just stare at each other. Her expression is perfectly neutral, but there's something in her eyes—triumph, maybe. Or a warning.
She doesn't care that I’ve seen her with Vance.
In fact, she wanted me to see them. This is a message, delivered in her usual manipulative way.
I can fuck with any part of your life I want. Including your precious Emma.
My phone rings, shattering the moment. I tear my eyes away from Victoria to check the screen.
Michael. Probably calling about prepping for the three o'clock meeting.
I let it go to voicemail.
When I look back, Victoria and Vance are walking toward the exit together. She says something that makes him laugh again, and then they're gone, disappearing into the foyer beyond the ballroom.
I sit frozen at my table, my untouched coffee going cold.
The man beside me says something about the affordable housing initiative, asking a question I don't really understand. I force a smile, give some generic answer, all while my mind spins.
I need to get a hold of my racing thoughts. Vance isn’t the only person who can invest in Essence. If Victoria fucks this up for Emma, she can move on to another investor firm. It just makes me so fucking pissed that I have to deal with this shit.
My phone buzzes again. Another text from Emma.
Emma: He said he'd have an answer by next week. I think this is really happening!
The hope in her message, the pure joy—it guts me.
Because I've been in that position. Thought I had a deal locked down, only to have it fall apart for reasons I didn't see coming. Reasons that had nothing to do with the merits of my proposal and everything to do with backroom maneuvering and hidden agendas.
And Emma, brilliant as she is, doesn't know to watch for that. Doesn't know that people like Victoria treat business—and life—like a chess game, thinking five moves ahead, willing to sacrifice anything to achieve their objectives.
I type out another response, keeping my tone light and supportive even as dread pools in my stomach.
Me: I never doubted it.
Emma: I love you. See you tonight?
Me: Absolutely. And I love you too.
I set my phone down and lean back in my chair, my chest tight with anxiety.
Across the ballroom, people are beginning to leave, the luncheon winding down. I should go too, get back to the office for that three o'clock meeting, try to salvage some productivity from this disaster of a day.
But I sit there for another moment, staring at the spot where Victoria and Vance disappeared, trying to figure out my next move.
Because one thing is certain: It’s obvious Victoria is willing to do whatever it takes to continue to fuck with my life.