The Termination Letter

The pregnancy test pressed against my thigh as I walked to Julian's office. The plastic still held the warmth of my hand. Three years as his secret wife had taught me to expect little. That morning, I had let myself expect one thing: after I told him about the baby, he might stop hiding me. I had rehearsed the news all the way down the corridor. A child might persuade him to put my name beside his in public, or at least let me attend one company dinner as his wife. I opened the oak door without knocking. I never knocked. I had chosen the office, negotiated the lease, and spent more nights there than Julian had. Mia lay across the mahogany desk with her skirt at her waist. Julian bent over her, one hand in her hair. The bespoke leather briefcase I had ordered for our anniversary lay beside his shoe. I had planned to give it to him after telling him about the baby. They jerked apart. Mia pulled down her skirt. Julian only straightened his tie. Beside Mia's hip sat a single sheet of paper. The heading read TERMINATION, and my name was printed beneath it. The paper stopped my breath. The test still pressed against my thigh, but the words I had practiced would not come out. "Don't you know how to knock?" Julian asked. For a second, I waited for him to take it back. The briefcase on the floor answered for him. Mia slid off the desk and smoothed her skirt. She didn't look embarrassed. She looked pleased. The intercom buzzed before any of us spoke again. "Mr. Vance, it's Zurich," his assistant said. "The Dubois contract is collapsing. They're accusing us of breaching the confidentiality clause." Julian turned to me at once. Whenever a deal went bad, he did that before he reached for his phone. "Aria, handle it. Call Dubois from my private line." He pushed the phone toward me, then glanced at Mia and stopped. His mouth tightened. Depending on me in front of her had spoiled whatever performance he had planned. "No. Mia, you handle Zurich." He pointed to the phone. "Show me what real talent can do. Aria has coasted on my name long enough." Mia stared at the blinking line. "Right now?" "Right now." Mia lifted the receiver without dialing. She did not know Dubois's first name, his language, or the concession that had kept the contract alive. Julian picked up the termination letter and held it toward me. "This should be clear enough. My father took pity on you and made me marry you. That charity project is over." He tapped the page. "You're a burden, Aria. Mia has ambition." He waited for an answer. He had seen me work through nights, rescue failed negotiations, and cover losses he never noticed. He expected me to list every one of them. He also expected tears. Julian had always mistaken silence for surrender, and the empty look on my face pleased him more than an argument would have. My fingers closed around the pregnancy test in my pocket. "Be out of my house by tomorrow," he said. "We'll report your gross misconduct to the company. Maybe then you'll learn your place." I looked at him, then at Mia struggling to unlock his private line. I said nothing. When I walked out, the intercom was still flashing. This time, I let it ring.