Daniel stood in the doorway in his perfectly tailored navy suit. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
“Liv,” he said softly.
He hadn’t called me that in months.
“I’m sorry. I tried to talk to her. You know how she gets.”
I stared at him. I mean really looked at him, for the first time in a long time.
When did he become this? This careful, apologetic man who stood in doorways instead of walking through them?
“Did you know?” I asked quietly. “Did you know she was planning this?”
He couldn’t meet my eyes.
“She mentioned some concerns. About the IPO. About how investors might perceive…”
“Perceive what, Daniel? That your wife actually knows what she’s doing? That the woman who invented the product is more qualified to run R&D than your mother’s goddaughter?”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s completely fair.”
“Mother’s just trying to do what’s best for the company.”
I shook my head. The disappointment sat in my chest like a stone.
“No. She’s doing what’s best for her image. And you’re letting her. The way you always do.”
He took a step toward me and reached for my hand. I pulled it back.
“Don’t,” I said.
The hurt in his eyes might have moved me once. Not today.
“I’ll get my things out of the house tonight,” I told him. “I think it’s best if I stay somewhere else for a while.”
“Liv, you don’t have to do that.”
“Yes. I do.”
I started packing the few things that were actually mine. My framed diplomas. A photo of my parents at their fortieth anniversary in Savannah. And a small, clunky robot figurine made of soldered copper wire and a nine-volt battery. I built it in my dorm room at nineteen. It could walk four steps before it fell over. It was the first thing I ever built that worked.
“We can figure this out,” Daniel said from the doorway. “After the IPO, when things calm down, maybe…”
I laughed. A sharp little laugh.
“The IPO. Right. Good luck with that.”
He frowned. He heard something in my voice.
“What does that mean?”
I just shook my head. I picked up my purse and my one small box.
“Goodbye, Daniel. Tell your mother my attorney will be in touch.”
He caught my arm as I passed.
“Olivia. Wait. What are you planning?”
I gently lifted his hand off my sleeve and looked him in the eye one last time.
“You know what your mother always says? It’s just business. Nothing personal.”
And I left him standing there.
Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience.
Ethan holds a degree in Communications from Zurich University, where he developed his expertise in storytelling, media strategy, and audience engagement. Known for his ability to blend creativity with analytical precision, he excels at creating content that not only entertains but also connects deeply with readers.
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