Queen of Greed

Chapter 5

"Violet Hotel." I didn't give her a chance to speak when she picked up. "Lower East Side."

I ended the call, my stomach a mess of nerves. I hadn't eaten dinner last night, but the thought of food made my stomach revolt further. Nevertheless, I forced down some trail mix from the minibar. I'd need the energy. If there was one thing Lisa was good at, it was persuading people to do what she wanted.

I was already second-guessing my choices. In the bright light of day, my ring finger felt impossibly bare and my decision to leave seemed impossibly rash. Should I have waited and talked to Lisa before walking out? What if—

Someone knocked at the door.

My stomach pitched again, I suddenly regretted telling her where I was, but it was too late. It's like pulling off a Band-Aid. Just get it over with.

Still, no amount of internal pep talk could've prepared me for the sight awaiting me when I opened the door.

"Oh my god." A gasp escaped before I could hold it in. Lisa looked like hell. Her hair was completely wet, her shirt was rumpled, there was purple smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes and her shoes looked like they'd gone through a Tough Mudder obstacle course.

"What–" I didn't get to finish my question before she grabbed my arm and swept her eyes over me.

"You're okay." Relief softened the rough edge of her voice. He sounded like he was either recovering from a horrible cold or he'd been shouting all night.

"I'm fine." Physically. "Why are you all wet?"

She was dripping water all over the floor. Nevertheless, I pulled her inside and shut the door behind us. It was a low-key hotel, but I didn't want to risk people seeing us or overhearing us. Manhattan was a small island, and Manhattan society was smaller still.

"I got caught in the rain." Lisa's eyes swept over the room and stopped on my open suitcase. "And it's hard to see puddles at four in the morning."

"Why the hell were you wandering around Manhattan at four in the morning?"

Her disbelieving eyes snapped back to mine. "I come home from work to find my wife gone and her wedding ring in our damn housekeeper's pocket. She's not answering my calls and none of her friends know where she is. I thought you–" She took a deep breath and released it in one long, controlled exhale. "I went to your usual places until I realized they were all, of course, closed that late at night. So I had my security sweeping the city while I checked your favorite neighborhoods. Just in case. I didn't know..."

My breath stuck at the mental image of Lisa wandering around the streets in the rain looking for me. It was so incongruous with the cold, disinterested woman I'd become used to that it almost sounded like she was spinning a fairy tale instead of telling the truth.

But the evidence was there, and it sent a fresh, crippling wave of pain through my chest.

If only she cared that much all the time, if only it didn't take me leaving to unbury the piece of the person I'd fallen in love with.

"When did you get home?" I asked quietly.

Dull red tinged her cheekbones. "Eight thirty."

Two and a half hours after our scheduled departure time. I wondered whether she'd forgotten about our anniversary or whether she remembered but ignored it anyway. I couldn't decide which was worse, but it didn't matter. The end result was the same.

"I didn't mean to miss the flight." Lisa said. "There was a work emergency. Ask Caroline. The SEC–"

"That's the thing." My earlier concern melted away, replaced with a familiar exhaustion. Not the type that followed a sleepless night, but the type built over the years of hearing the same excuse. "There's always a work emergency. If it's not the SEC, it's the stock market. If it's not the stock market, it's some corporate scandal. No matter what it is, it always comes first. Before me. Before us."

Lisa's jaw tightened. "I can't ignore those things," she said. "People depend on me. Billions of dollars ride on my decisions. My employees and investors–"

"What about me? Do I not count as people."

"Of course you do, mon amour." She sounded baffled.

"And when I was depending on you to show up like you promised?" Emotion clogged my throat. "Was that less important than a multibillion-dollar corporation that'll probably be just fine if you took one weekend off?"

Tense silence mushroomed and nearly choked us until she spoke again.

"Do you remember our senior year of college?" Lisa's gaze burned into mine. "We barely saw each other outside of school because I had to work three jobs just to cover basic living expenses. We ate fucking instant ramen on our dates because I couldn't afford to take you out to nice restaurants. It was miserable, and I promised myself that if I ever made it out, I would never be in that situation again. We wouldn't be in that situation again. And we haven't."

She gestured between us. "Look at us. We have everything we've ever dreamed of, but the only way to keep it that way is to do my job. The penthouse, the clothes, the jewelry. All of it goes away if–"

"What good is any of that if I never see you?" My frustration bubbled over to it's tipping point. "I don't care about the fancy penthouse or clothes or jet. I would rather have a wife. a real one, not just in name."

Maybe I didn't understand because I came from a well-off family and therefore could never fully empathize with the obstacles Lisa had to overcome to get to where she was. Maybe I was too out of the loop to understand the stakes of the Wall Street game. But I knew myself, and I knew that I'd been a thousand times happier eating ramen with her in her dorm room than I'd ever been attending some fancy gala draped in jewels and a fake smile.

Lisa's eyes darkened. "It's not that simple. I don't have a rich family to fall back on if things go to shit, Jen," she said harshly. "Everything is on me."

"Maybe, but you're Lalisa Manoban. You're a billionaire! You can afford a weekend off. Hell, you could retire this minute and still have enough money to live in luxury for the rest of your life!"

She didn't get it. I could tell by the stubborn look in her eyes.

The fight bled out of me, and my exhausted returned tenfold. My voice dropped to a whisper. "It was our ten-year anniversary." Lisa's throat flexed with a hard swallow. "We can leave now," she said. "We have almost two full days left. We can still celebrate our anniversary like we'd intended."

No matter how hard I tried to explain, she didn't get why I was upset. It wasn't about physical, tangible things like flights and dinner reservations. It was about fundamental disconnect in our values and what we deemed important for a good relationship. I believed in quality time and conversation; she believed money could fix everything.

She'd always been ambitious, but I used to think she would hit a point where she'd been content with what she had. I realized now, that point didn't exist. She would never have enough. The more he acquired–money, status, power–the more she wanted at the expense of everything else.

I shook my head slowly. "No."

I hadn't known what my plan was when I woke up that morning, but it was now crystal clear.

Even if it killed me, even if the easiest thing was to fall into her arms and sink into the memory of what we used to be, I had to go through with it. I was already a shell of myself. If I didn't get out while I could, I'd dissolve into dust, nothing more to than a collection of lost time and unrealized dreams.

The stubborn gleam in Lisa's eyes faded, replaced with confusion. "Then come home with me. We'll talk it out."

I shook my head again, trying to breath through the needles stabbing at my heart. "I'm not coming back."

She stilled. Confusion melted into realization, then disbelief. "Jen–"

"I want a divorce."