Chapter 3

The next morning, there was a half-eaten cup of instant pasta sitting on the dining table.

James was already gone.

I didn't go to the grand opening.

Margaret texted me first thing in the morning. [James's company is opening today, and you, as his wife, aren't even there? How can you not show up?]

I didn't reply.

That afternoon, she sent me ten or so photos: the new office, flower baskets, a red banner

James, dressed in a suit, was right in the center of the crowd.

Olivia was standing right next to him.

The two of them stood on either side of the company sign, looking like a real power couple.

Margaret immediately sent a voice message after that.

"Look at Olivia, so considerate. She was here early, running around helping out," she said. "Unlike some people, whose husband is starting a business and they can't even be bothered to show up."

I turned the voice message into text, glanced at it, and exited the chat.

Elliott was in the conference room, running a meeting.

"Haven's east district channel restructuring has a huge budget this time," he said. "Whoever lands this deal will basically be the sales director by the end of the year."

I looked up.

On the projection screen were two words: Haven Furnishings.

The name made me pause for a couple of seconds.

It sounded familiar, but I couldn't remember where I'd heard it before.

Elliott called my name.

"Emily," he said. "You've worked with Haven before, so you'll be leading the proposal this time. No problem, right?"

I snapped back to reality.

"No problem," I replied.

After the meeting, I took the documents back to my desk.

A colleague sent me the list of current project leads at Haven.

I scrolled down.

Then I spotted a name: Michael Grant.

It all clicked in my mind.

I finally remembered.

Back then, James's company only turned things around because of him.

By then, he'd been running his business for almost half a year.

All the jobs he took on were small-time.

Profits were slim.

Payments were slow.

The company's finances were looking worse and worse.

James would come home every day with a long face.

One night, he came home after drinking, sat down on the couch, and didn't say a word.

I kept asking him what was wrong until he finally told me.

"If we don't land a big client soon, the company might not make it," he said.

I was even more anxious than he was.

The next day, I went to see Michael.

I'd had a six-year partnership with Haven.

Michael was my go-to contact in purchasing.

I pushed and persuaded him for a whole week.

In the end, I even staked my own career reputation for James.

"Just give him a shot at a trial order," I said. "If anything goes wrong, I'll take responsibility."

In the end, Michael only gave James's company their first big order because of me.

That was when everything changed.

James's company finally made it into Haven's supply chain.

Later, someone interviewed him about his entrepreneurial journey.

The host asked him, "What was the most crucial turning point in your first year of business?"

James sat in front of the camera, talking with confidence.

"It had to be Haven," he said. "Back then, a lot of people didn't believe in us. I kept going back, and eventually my sincerity convinced them."

I was sitting in the audience.

I even smiled and applauded for him.

Now, looking back, all I felt was the sting of humiliation.

Sincerity? What sincerity?

I was the one who opened that door for him.

My phone ringing snapped me out of my memories.

It was James.

"What time are you getting off work tonight?" he asked.

For the first time in the past two weeks, he actually asked me when I'd be home.

I glanced at the documents spread out on my desk.

"Not sure. The project's been keeping me busy," I replied.

"Try to get home early. I need to talk to you," he said.

Then he hung up.

I didn't get home until after nine that night.

To my surprise, James was still in the living room.

There were two takeout meals on the table.

When he saw me come in, he gestured toward the food.

"I ordered you some dinner," he said.

I took off my coat.

"I already ate," I said.

His expression paused for a moment.

"Have you been coming home this late every day?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"What project's got you working so late?"

I didn't answer. I headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.

He finally couldn't hold back.

"I heard your company's working with Haven lately?" he asked.

I paused for a second.

So that was what he was getting at.

I turned around.

"You sure keep your ear to the ground," I said.

"It's a small world in our business. Not surprising," he replied.

James's tone softened a bit.

"Emily, aren't you pretty close with Mr. Grant from Haven?" he asked.

He said almost the same thing last time.

But back then, he never even had to ask me.

All he had to do was frown, and I'd already be figuring out a way to help.

"We're acquainted," I said.

I took a sip of water.

James leaned forward.

"Can you help me set up a meeting with him?" he asked. "Our company just launched, and we're hoping to land a few reliable clients.

"Just tell Mr. Grant, let's all grab dinner together."

I looked at him.

A question suddenly popped into my mind.

"James," I said.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Didn't you always say you had plenty of client connections?"

His smile faded a bit. "Connections are just connections. But for a big client like Haven, having another contact never hurts."

I nodded.

"Then why don't you get to know him yourself," I said.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said."

I set my glass down.

"I've spent years cultivating my relationship with Michael," I said. "He's not one of your startup resources."

His face darkened instantly.

"Emily, it's just a dinner. Do you really have to be so strict about it?" James said.

"Yes," I answered quickly. "I've worked with him for six years; my own reputation is what kept that partnership alive

"Why should I just send over the clients I've spent years building relationships with to your brand-new company?"

James looked at me like he didn't even recognize me. "We're married."

It was the same old line.

I almost laughed out loud.

"When you needed to sell my house, we were married," I said. "When you needed my clients, we were married too."

I looked at him.

"So when are you going to give me half the shares in your company?" I asked.