Chapter 3 - The Poker Face
Walking through my front door the following evening was the hardest thing I had ever done.
The house had been scrubbed clean. The scent of Sloane’s perfume had been masked by the heavy aroma of garlic and rosemary. Nolan was in the kitchen, wearing an apron I had bought him for our third anniversary, stirring a pan of risotto on the commercial range my bonuses had paid for.
“Elena!” He turned, his handsome face lighting up with that practiced, boyish charm that had once disarmed every defensive instinct I possessed. He crossed the room, wiping his hands on a towel, and leaned in to kiss my cheek.
I let him. His lips were warm against my skin, and the sensation turned my stomach into an acid pit.
“You look exhausted, sweetheart,” he murmured, taking my coat. “How was Scottsdale? Did the tech executives finally sign off on the governance framework?”
“They were difficult,” I said, walking to the counter and setting my briefcase down. “Graham had to adjust the timetable three times while I was at the airport. Where is your father, by the way? He wasn't answering his cell this afternoon.”
Nolan’s shoulders stiffened by a fraction of an inch before he masked it with a laugh. “Oh, you know Dad. He gets absorbed in his garden on Wednesdays. He told me he was reviewing your filings from home.”
*He was reviewing them from your bed,* I thought.
“Well, he needs to be sharp tomorrow,” I said smoothly, pouring myself a glass of cold water. “The Denver Tech Consortium submitted a counter-proposal. It’s worth nearly eighteen million dollars, Nolan. If we secure this, Vance Strategic will be untouchable. I’m putting Graham in charge of distributing the confidential tender documents to the board tomorrow afternoon.”
Nolan’s eyes widened slightly. Greed flashed across his face, bright and unmistakable. “Eighteen million? Elena… that’s incredible. That would mean… what kind of performance dividend for our personal accounts?”
“Enough to pay off every debt we have,” I said softly, looking him directly in the eyes. “Enough to buy whatever house in Aspen you could ever dream of.”
He blinked, caught off guard for a split second, before giving a nervous chuckle. “Aspen? Who said anything about Aspen? You know I prefer Vail.”
“Of course,” I said, offering him a radiant, vacant smile. “I’m going to take a long bath, Nolan. I smell like travel.”
Upstairs, in the master bathroom, I stood before the mirror. On the marble counter, tucked behind my jewelry box, was a tiny gold hoop earring. It wasn't mine; my ears were pierced for studs only. Sloane had left it there intentionally—a little territorial flag planted in the dirt of my life.
I picked it up with a tissue, dropped it into a plastic evidence baggie from my purse, and washed my hands three times with scalding water.
Downstairs, I heard Nolan on his phone, his voice hushed to a frantic whisper.
“Dad? She just got back. Listen to me—she has the DTC tender. Eighteen million. It’s hitting the portal tomorrow at noon. Tell Sloane she needs to get the financing finalized tonight. We’re taking it all.”
I leaned against the bathroom door, closed my eyes, and took a slow, deep breath.
May you like
*Take it,* I thought. *Take every last bite.*
***