Chapter 2

Julian crouched, but only halfway. Not low enough for Milo to climb into his arms.

"Daddy has to work," he said.

"Birthday work?"

"Something like that."

A photographer called from the stage. "Mr. Ashford, one more with Ms. Cole before the announcement?"

Julian stood at once. Relief loosened his shoulders.

Then he looked at me.

"And you thought bringing him here would help?"

"I thought his father might hold him on his birthday."

"Sienna is leading tonight's campaign. You and Milo showing up like this confuses the message."

I looked past him at the slogan on the screen.

"Then your message is clear. Sienna gets the spotlight. Your son gets later."

"Don't do this here."

"You did this here."

Milo held up his card. "Open?"

For one stupid second, I thought Julian would take it.

Instead, he set it on the registration table, beneath a stack of glossy anniversary booklets.

"Later."

Milo stared at the card.

"Daddy no keep it?"

"I said later, Milo."

Sienna touched Julian's arm. "They're waiting."

He left with her.

An older investor approached with the polite smile people used on spouses at events they did not understand.

"Mrs. Ashford. I don't believe we've met."

I opened my mouth.

"Elena stepped back after the baby," Julian said over his shoulder, before I could answer. "She's been focused on home. Sienna picked up the pace when the company needed it."

The investor's smile changed. Not cruel. Worse. Pitying.

"Stepped back?" I said. "Julian, I wrote the words on that screen."

He kept walking.

"You helped in the beginning."

Sienna turned just enough to smile at me.

"The early drafts had heart," she said. "I made them marketable."

"You made them useful," I said. "I made them true."

Julian's voice sharpened.

"Enough."

The booklet beneath Milo's card slipped from the table.

Inside, the story named Julian the founder and Sienna the visionary.

My name was nowhere.

Its cover showed Julian standing in front of our first rented office. I knew that photograph. I had been beside him in a red dress, six months pregnant, laughing at the crooked sign above the door.

In the printed version, my face had been cut out.

Only a thin red sleeve remained at the edge, like something they had failed to delete cleanly.

Milo tapped the sliver of my red dress.

"Mommy?"

He touched the place where my face should have been.

"Why Daddy cut you?"

Julian came back just long enough to take the booklet from Milo's hands.

"Tomorrow, Sienna gets the title," he said.

He looked at me.

"Nine o'clock. Don't come."

Then he walked back to the stage with her.