Chapter 3
The next day at work, I found out Andrew had switched up his work hours three months ago.
He'd been heading out at seven every morning, saying he had early client meetings.
But I heard his driver griping in the break room.
"Mr. Parker has me driving all over town to pick Ms. Shaw up every single day. I sit in traffic so long I feel like I've aged five years," the guy complained.
I stood in the doorway, holding my cup.
A coworker spotted me and grinned.
"Ms. Quinn, you two live in the same neighborhood. How come Mr. Parker never lets you hitch a ride with him?" she joked.
I smiled back.
"We're not that close," I said.
It was easier to say that than I thought it'd be.
At the morning project meeting, Lucy stood up in her brand-new white suit and ran through the high-temperature load plan, the one I'd spent three months on.
On the cover page, her name was the only one under "Project Lead."
I had to flip all the way to the last page to find my name that was tucked away in the technical support credits.
Lucy misstated some crucial data.
I was about to speak up when Andrew tapped the table.
"Let Ms. Shaw finish," he said.
After the meeting, I pushed the proposal right in front of him.
"Why did you remove my name?" I asked.
"We need only one person in charge for the clients," he replied.
"I've been working on this project since the very beginning."
Andrew rubbed his temples. "Lucy came back to the company not long ago. She needs some wins to secure her spot.
"You've been getting top marks for three years in a row. Missing this one won't make a difference."
I suddenly remembered five years ago.
One time, a client publicly questioned whether or not I had any real experience.
Back then, Andrew pushed the contract right back at them.
He stood up for me and said, "Every single number here is Helen's work. No one gets to wipe her name off."
Now, it was the same conference table.
And he was still the person in charge of the meeting.
But he made sure my name was buried at the bottom.
"Andrew, do you remember what you used to say?" I asked.
His eyes flickered with embarrassment.
"Things have changed.
"Once the promotion's over, I'll make it up to you," he said.
I nodded and pulled the proposal back.
"Alright," I said.
He looked surprised.
Back then, whenever I felt wronged, I wouldn't let it go until I got an answer.
But now that I'd changed, he kept staring at me, like he couldn't figure me out.
After work, I went home to grab my passport.
The lock said someone had already punched in the code.
When I walked in, the wedding photo in the living room was gone.
Lucy was in the kitchen, wearing my slippers, slicing up some fruit.
Her daughter, Sophie, was sitting on the carpet, drawing.
There were three people in the picture.
It was Andrew, Lucy in a skirt suit, and Sophie with pigtails.
At the top, it said, [My New Home.]
Andrew came out of the study, and the moment he saw me, his face fell.
"Why are you back?" he asked.
I was standing in the doorway of my own home, and yet he was questioning why I'd come back.
Lucy hurried to explain, "The social worker's coming for the custody check tomorrow.
"The lawyer said having a stable home would look good for me, so Andrew said I could crash here tonight."
I glanced at the wall.
"Where's our wedding photo?" I asked.
Andrew sounded tense.
"I put it away for now," he said. "I'll put it back up once the visit's over."
The doorbell rang.
The social worker showed up early for the home visit.
Lucy grabbed Andrew's hand, clearly panicking.
"What should we do? Will she get suspicious if she sees Helen?" she whispered.
Andrew turned to me.
He didn't ask me to stay.
He quietly begged me, "Helen, help her out this once.
"Tell the social worker that you're here to drop off some project files."
In four years of marriage, it was the first time he'd spoken to me in that pleading tone.
And he'd done it so another woman could settle into the role that was supposed to be mine.
When the social worker walked in, she asked, "So, what's your relationship with the homeowner?"
Andrew's eyes were fixed on me.
Sophie stared at me, too.
My voice came out calm.
"I'm a coworker," I replied.
After the social worker left, Lucy threw her arms around Andrew, sobbing.
"Andrew, thank you," she choked out.
He lifted his hand and gently patted her back, making no move to pull away.
I walked into the bedroom to grab my passport.
My side of the closet was empty. All my clothes were stuffed into boxes in the guest room.
Andrew followed me in. "It's to put on a show for the social worker."
I asked, "How long am I supposed to let Lucy stay in my home?"
He avoided my eyes.
"The lawyer said it's best to keep everything the way it is until the ruling.
"About six months," he said.
I gripped my passport, my fingertips numb with cold.
"So where am I supposed to live?" I asked.
"There's a hotel near the office," he said. "I'll cover the cost."
I stared at him for a long time.
"The passenger seat and the project are hers now.
"Now you want to let her take over my home and my role as your wife, too?" I said.
Andrew's face darkened. "It's just a house or a title. Does it really matter so much?
"You have our marriage. She's only got her daughter."
I looked down and let out a bitter laugh.
"Alright," I said. "I'll give in."