Chapter 4

"This is my wife, Naomi," he said to the reporters. "She has a real gift for details. Much of the warmth in this hotel comes from her keen eye."

The reporter nodded politely before handing the microphone back to Vivienne.

I didn't break free from Marcus’s grip.

I needed to figure out first just how many "gifts for details" he had arranged on my behalf.

After the celebration party ended, I excused myself with a headache and returned to my office on the top floor of the corporate building.

Mara, the executive assistant for the project team, was still organizing files. I asked her how the partner appointment letter was coming along.

She froze.

"Didn't Marcus tell you?"

My heart sank.

"Tell me what?"

Mara cautiously pushed a document toward me. It was the management roster for the next quarter.

My original title as "Design Partner" had been crossed out, with a new note written beside it: Due to brand integration, related appointment deferred for evaluation.

My name was gone.

Vivienne’s name appeared in the row for "Creative Director."

I knew she wasn't entirely incompetent.

She knew how to package a hotel, how to make investors buy into a story, and how to deliver polished answers in front of a camera. But she had never drawn a single restoration blueprint.

She had never braved the freezing winter to supervise workers reinforcing dangerous walls, nor had she taken any risks for those preserved arched windows.

She hadn't just stolen a title.

She had stripped away the boundaries I had slowly surrendered over the years.

"Mara, who confirmed this list?" I asked.

Her expression grew even tenser. "Marcus and the board secretary."

"When?"

"This afternoon."

This afternoon, Marcus had still assured me over the phone that my partnership would be officially announced after the opening.

I placed the document back on the desk, striving to keep my voice steady.

"Thank you for telling me."

Leaving the office, I didn't take the elevator.

I walked down the emergency stairwell, wanting the cold air to clear the stifling fire in my chest.

Reaching the corner of the eleventh floor, I heard Marcus’s voice.

"Naomi will be hurt, I know."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Vivienne stood across from him, still holding that bouquet of white roses.

"She’s not just hurt," Vivienne said. "You made her stand down there, watching me accept what rightfully belonged to her. Marcus, you promised me that this time you wouldn't make me the one you hide away."

Marcus rubbed his temples.

"I’m not hiding you. You’re right there in front of all the media."

"But you haven't given me what I truly want either," Vivienne lowered her voice. "Creative Director is just the beginning. Once the hotel stabilizes, I want my own brand standing—not to spend forever cleaning up your image."

Her words made me see clearly for the first time that she wasn't satisfied with just stealing my credit.

What she wanted was to use this hotel as a stepping stone to build her own kingdom.

Marcus stepped closer to her, his voice carrying that familiar soothing tone.

"I’ll give it to you. But we can't have any mess right now. Naomi will be upset for a few days, but she’ll understand in the end. She won't leave me, and she won't ruin this project."

I stood in the shadows of the stairwell, my nails digging into my palms until it hurt.

It turned out that in his eyes, even my anger was merely a calculated cost.

He assumed I would endure it for the sake of our marriage, endure it for the sake of the hotel, and persuade myself once again not to make a fuss over what I had already lost.

But this time, I suddenly really wanted to know—if I stopped protecting this hotel for him, what would he have left?