Chapter 4

By the third slide, Sophie had settled completely into her role as Campaign Lead.

She stood at the front of the conference room with the presentation remote in her hand.

Eight of us were gathered around the table for the final internal rehearsal before the client pitch.

On the screen was the strategy framework I'd spent four months building.

Sophie followed the presentation notes, walking everyone through the target audiences, brand positioning, and recommended campaign sequence.

I'd written those notes, too.

The project manager was making marks on a printed agenda as she listened.

"Hold on a second."

Sophie lowered the remote.

"What's wrong?"

"The audience segments are in a different order from yesterday's version."

Sophie flipped through the materials in front of her.

"This is the latest revision."

It was.

I'd proposed the adjustment yesterday after reviewing the newest consumer research. Sophie had the updated presentation. But when the project manager asked for the supporting material, she couldn't produce it.

"What's the rationale?"

the project manager asked.

Sophie turned another page.

"It's in the supplementary materials."

The project manager looked at me.

"Claire, you still have the supporting data, right?"

"Yes."

"Can you make sure we have the complete rationale after rehearsal?"

"We need everything ready before the final pitch."

I nodded.

She made another note on her agenda.

"Great."

"Sophie, go ahead."

And just like that, the meeting continued.

No one seemed to think anything unusual had happened.

I was still the person responsible for explaining the strategy, preparing the supporting research, and filling any gaps before the client presentation.

But Sophie was the one standing at the front of the room, deciding when to advance the slides.

I looked at Ethan.

He sat at the far end of the table, one hand resting beside his laptop.

He'd heard the project manager come directly to me for the research behind the strategy.

Yet when Sophie resumed the rehearsal as Campaign Lead, he said nothing.

Over the next twenty minutes, she worked through the rest of the presentation.

I didn't interrupt.

When the rehearsal ended, the project manager began collecting final comments. Around the table, people closed their laptops and gathered their things.

Sophie remained beside the screen, discussing the presentation order with another colleague.

I glanced at my notebook.

A few more strategy revisions had landed on my list.

I closed it and stood.

"Ethan."

"We need to talk."

Sophie's hand paused over the remote.

I didn't look at her.

"Now."

Ethan followed me into the smaller meeting room next door.

I shut the door and placed the printed agenda on the table.

"Why is she Campaign Lead?"

"Claire--"

"Last night, we were talking about why she still has access to my home and why you kissed her."

I tapped the agenda.

"Now I'm asking about my work."

Ethan took a breath.

"Sophie needs more client-facing experience."

"So you gave her my opportunity?"

"I didn't give her your opportunity."

"My title went from Campaign Lead to Strategy Contributor."

"You're still the Strategy Owner."

"Then why didn't anyone tell me about the change?"

"We had to finalize staffing."

"You approved it yesterday afternoon."

"It was a business decision."

"One you made without asking me."

He rubbed a hand over his forehead.

"You already have successful accounts and a strong portfolio."

"Sophie needs something substantial she can point to."

I stared at him.

"So because I've already proved myself, she gets my opportunity?"

"That's not what I said."

"What would you call it?"

"Resource allocation."

I looked down at the agenda.

Four months of research, strategy development, revisions, and client preparation.

My work.

And now someone else would be publicly leading the project.

"Does the client know I'm still the Strategy Owner?"

He didn't answer immediately.

I let out a short, humorless laugh.

"I guess not."

"It's one presentation lead."

"No."

"The official agenda says Campaign Lead."

Ethan pushed back his chair.

"Claire, we can't turn every staffing decision into an argument about our marriage."

"Then stop making decisions about both without telling me."

His expression hardened.

I picked up the agenda.

"Why did Sophie start getting so many more client-facing opportunities after Chicago?"

"Because she needed the experience."

"You kissed her before Chicago."

He looked away.

"What happened on that trip?"

"Claire."

"Was there something else?"

"Whatever happened in Chicago was over after that."

The moment the words left his mouth, he stopped.

I stared at him.

"Whatever happened?"

"You know what I mean."

"No."

"I don't."

He glanced toward the closed meeting-room door.

"We'll talk at home tonight."

I waited a few seconds.

He said nothing else.

"Fine."

I took my laptop and left.

Back at my desk, I found a new message from the project manager.

Following the rehearsal, the strategy section needed a few final revisions. She wanted them completed by four that afternoon.

Sophie was still leading the client presentation.

I opened the file.

The core strategy revisions were still my responsibility.

And the official agenda still listed Sophie as Campaign Lead.

For a while, I stared at the document without touching my keyboard.

Then I got to work.

I made the changes identified during rehearsal, completed the strategy revisions assigned to me, and uploaded the final version to the shared project folder.

The upload time, version history, and my name were all there.

I closed my laptop.

The internal strategy revisions were finished.

But when the final pitch took place, I still wouldn't be the person standing in front of the client, presenting the strategy I'd built.

At three-thirty, I left the office.

I went back to 1702.

The clothes I'd left on the bedroom chair that morning were still there.

I pulled my suitcase out of the closet and opened it on the bed.

Passport.

Documents.

Laptop.

Medication.

Work clothes.

Chargers.

That would be enough for now.

I didn't know how long I'd be gone.

I only knew I couldn't stay here tonight.

When I opened the bedside drawer, I saw my bag.

The little white gift box was still inside.

The gold ribbon hadn't moved.

I took it out.

Yesterday, I'd pictured Ethan sitting across from me at the restaurant, opening the box.

I'd imagined the questions he would ask.

The way he'd smile before asking if it was really happening.

Now I couldn't even imagine telling him.

I held the box for two seconds.

Then I placed it at the bottom of my suitcase.

My phone rang.

Ethan.

I let it stop.

Then I took the old key card from my wallet.

The same card that had been linked to Ethan's primary account for four years.

I placed it on the entryway cabinet.

I sent him a message.

I left my old key card on the entryway cabinet. Please remove the access linked to your account.

Then I found Maya's name.

She was my closest friend. Right now, she was the one person I trusted enough to ask for somewhere to stay.

I opened our chat.

Can I stay with you tonight?

Her reply arrived less than thirty seconds later.

Come over.

I zipped my suitcase.

As I reached the front door, another message appeared.

Ethan: Claire, wait until I get home.

I didn't answer.

I closed the door to 1702 behind me and pulled my suitcase into the elevator.

The doors were almost shut when my phone vibrated twice.

Ethan: Claire.

Then:

Ethan: Where are you?

I pressed the button for the lobby.