Chapter 1: The Handover

ODESSA

“You’ll spend the next six months training her.”

Adrian said it to everyone at the table, but his words landed on me. The champagne glasses stopped halfway to people’s mouths as the room went quiet.

“Training who?” I asked.

I already knew the answer. Vivian Laurent stood up from her chair, her emerald colored dress catching the light as she placed her left hand against her chest.

“Your successor,” Adrian said. He looked at me without a trace of anger. “The terms of our arrangement end in six months, Odessa. You agreed to prepare Vivian to take your place.”

“I never agreed to anything.”

“Well…..You’re about to.”

A cough came from the other end of the table, followed by the scrape of a fork against a plate. Eleanor Sterling set down her glass, and the small smile on my mother-in-law’s face told me she knew about this before tonight.

Vivian turned to Adrian, her eyes wet. “Adrian, please. You can’t do this to her. Odessa has given you so much.”

“She agreed,” Adrian said, looking straight at me.

“I didn’t agree to anything.” I looked at him. “And if you were so sure I would accept this, why didn’t you tell me at home? Why did the board have to hear it first?”

“Because you would have made a scene.”

I stared at him with nothing to say. In six years, I never once raised my voice at him.

Vivian reached over and touched my arm. Her fingers were cool, and the sweet smell of her perfume filled the space between us. She gave me a gentle smile. “I’m so sorry, Odessa. I never wanted to take anything from you.”

I looked at her hand on my sleeve, then met her eyes. She was enjoying this.

For one second, I wanted to stand up and throw my wine in her face. I could have told everyone at the table what those six years cost me. Every report I wrote for Adrian, every board member I dealt with, every night I waited for him while he slept in his study. I could have laid it all out in front of them.

Instead, I lifted my glass, took a slow sip, and placed it back on the table.

“Of course,” I said.

Adrian blinked.

He expected an argument. I could see him waiting for me to give him one, but I stayed quiet.

“I’ll begin tomorrow,” I said.

“Good,” he replied, then sat back in his chair.

That was all.

“Mom!”

Callum spoke up from beside me. My seven-year-old son was already climbing out of his chair, still wearing the gold watch Vivian gave him last week.

“Can I have the chocolate one now?” he asked her. “Mom always makes me wait.”

Vivian laughed. “Sure, sweetheart. Your mom doesn’t get to decide everything anymore.”

“Callum,” I said quietly. “Sit down, please. It’s not time for dessert.”

He didn’t even turn around. He got down from his chair and went straight to Vivian, climbing into her lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. She wrapped her arms around him and gave me a little smile over his shoulder.

I just stared at them for a second before picking up my glass.

“Odessa.” Mr. Hollis leaned toward me, lowering his voice. “That was a graceful exit. I admire it.”

I gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Mr. Hollis. How’s your wife’s garden?”

He started telling me about some roses, and I nodded when I was supposed to. The dessert came out, everyone went back to their conversations, and dinner carried on like nothing unusual happened. Eleanor kept watching me from across the table, probably waiting for me to fall apart.

I gave her no reason to.

Around nine-forty, I excused myself and left the room. I walked down the east corridor, past the old Sterling portraits, and went into the marble bathroom at the end of the hall. Once the door clicked shut, I locked it and turned the tap all the way on.

Then I grabbed the edge of the sink and stood there, breathing through my nose until my hands stopped shaking.

I looked up at the mirror. My hair was still in place. My pearl earrings were still on. My face gave away nothing.

“One hundred and eighty days,” I whispered.

My voice cracked.

I swallowed and tried again. “One hundred and eighty days, Odessa. You can get through it.”

I ran cold water over my hands and pressed them against the sink. Six years of my life, and Adrian could throw it away over dinner like it meant nothing.

A knock came from the other side of the door.

“Odessa?” Adrian’s voice was low and impatient. “Are you in there?”

I wiped under my eyes with one knuckle, fixed my lipstick, and took a breath before Adrian spoke again..

“Odessa. The guests are asking for you.”

I opened the door. He stood outside with one hand against the doorframe, his tie loose around his neck. I could smell his cologne. It was the one I picked for him on our first anniversary.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The question caught me off guard. He never asked me that anymore.

“I’m fine. You should go back to your fiancée.”

“She isn’t my fiancée.”

“She will be in one hundred and eighty days.”

I tried to walk past him, but he caught my wrist. His grip was light, but I stopped anyway. He hadn’t touched me in over a year.

“Hate me,” he said.

I looked at him. “What?”

“Tonight. Tomorrow. For the next six months.” His thumb rested against my pulse. “Please, Odessa. Just hate me. It’ll make this easier for both of us.”

He let go and walked away.

I stayed in the doorway, watching him disappear down the corridor. My wrist still felt warm where his hand touched me.

Why would he want me to hate him? A man who felt nothing wouldn’t ask to be hated.