“Elijah, honey, we were talking about protecting the family.”
I almost admired the speed of it.
“By keeping Terrence ignorant?”
She stopped.
“By teaching Megan how to get my signature?”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“By saying I believe whatever feels peaceful?”
Her eyes hardened.
There she was.
The woman from the VIP room.
“You have controlled every important decision in this family for fifty years,” she said.
I stared at her.
“So this was revenge?”
“No.
It was reality.
You are seventy years old, Elijah.
Somebody has to think about what happens when you cannot run everything.”
“Then you talk to me.”
“I tried.”
“You planned around me.”
“Because you never step aside.”
I looked at the woman I had loved since we were young enough to believe forty years was an impossible amount of time.
“You could have asked for a seat at the table.”
“I got tired of asking.”
“So you decided to move the table while I was sitting at it.”
She folded her arms.
“What have you done?”
That question told me what mattered most to her now.
Not whether I was hurt.
Not whether Terrence knew.
Not whether our marriage could survive.
What have you done?
“I protected what you were trying to change.”
Her face tightened.
“You called Marcus.”
“Yes.”
For the first time all day, Beatrice looked afraid.
“The paperwork Sunday is finished,” I said.
“Your authority has been reviewed.
The company has been notified.
Nothing moves without me.”
She gripped the edge of the counter.
“You’re humiliating me over one private conversation.”
“No.
I’m responding to a plan.”
“You think you can erase forty years because you heard something you didn’t like?”
I looked at the lilies between us.
“No.
Forty years are exactly why this hurts enough that I cannot ignore it.”
The front door opened.
Terrence walked in.
Beatrice turned.
Her expression collapsed.
“Terrence.”
He did not hug her.
“Where’s Megan?” she asked.
