The first time Elena realized her marriage was dead, her husband said it into a microphone.
Not those words, exactly. Worse. At a company dinner meant to celebrate his promotion, Daniel lifted his glass, smiled for the table, and told their colleagues that the secret to success was “not letting your home life slow the real work down.” People laughed. Someone clapped. Elena’s face stayed composed because that was what years beside him had trained it to do.
Under the table, her hands were ice.
Daniel sat down, kissed her cheek for show, and whispered, “Don’t look so brittle. It’s a joke.”
“It didn’t sound like one.”
“Christ, Elena. Not here.”
Across the table, Adrian Cole watched them over the rim of his drink.
Daniel’s rival. The man who had competed for the same promotion, lost by a
