His Empire Crumbled When I Left

I was deep in a complex data set when the professor called.

"Flora, congratulations!" His voice was electric. "The Paris project. Top research, your own lab, full funding—it's yours!"

My hand stilled. My fingers froze over the keyboard.

"This is a golden ticket, Flora," he continued, his voice softening. "But you know what this means. You'll have to leave Chicago."

Leave Chicago.

Leave the city I'd called home for three years.

Leave Gwen.

"Okay," I heard myself say, my voice distant. "I'll go say my goodbyes."

I went back to the estate. I wanted to spend one last night with Gwen.

I walked through the main doors. The staff was rushing around. They were setting up for a party.

Gwen stood in the center of the hall. He was snapping orders like a general.

"The champagne tower goes on the right, not the left!" His voice was cold, absolute. "No mistakes tonight."

He saw me. His eyes went colder.

"You're back."

"Gwen, I have great news—"

"Whatever it is, it can wait." He cut me off. His eyes cut right through me. "Tonight is important. Don't screw it up."

Screw it up? I stared at him, stunned.

Then it hit me. Of course. It’s our fifth anniversary.

This must be a surprise dinner. For us.

I thought about that. And I thought about leaving him soon. A knot tightened in my throat.

"I understand." I forced a smile. "I'll go get my gift."

This can be my farewell.

I hurried to the wine cellar. I retrieved the bottle I'd been saving. A 1990 Romanée-Conti.

A two-hundred-thousand-dollar bottle of wine. It was the most precious thing I could give.

As I took the bottle, a receipt fluttered to the floor. An order from the Chanel atelier.

A fifty-thousand-dollar evening gown. The one I saw at auction. The one I wanted.

My heart started racing again.

He'd planned all these surprises...

Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe he'd see me again. Love me again. Like before Eliza came.

I carried the bottle back to the hall. Gwen was inspecting the table settings.

"Gwen." I went to his side. I carefully handed him the bottle.

He took it. A flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Romanée-Conti," he read the label. "1990."

"Yes." My voice trembled. "For us."

He glanced at me. Said nothing. Just a nod.

The guests started to arrive.

I changed into my best purple silk dress. My heart was full of hope. I walked to the dining room.

But I stopped dead in the doorway.

My seat was at the far end of the table. A dozen places away from the head.

Gwen sat at the head of the table. Eliza was on his right. She wore a black silk gown. She looked like the true mistress of the house.

I was wedged between two of his grunts. Like an unimportant guest.

"Ladies and gentlemen." Gwen stood. He raised his glass. "We're here tonight for a special occasion."

I could hear my own heart pounding. What was he going to say?

"Three years ago," he continued, his voice low and solemn, "I lost my brother. He died protecting me. Tonight is his and Eliza's wedding anniversary."

The words hit me. My hopeful heart shattered.

An anniversary. Not ours. Theirs.

"Eliza has suffered too much for this family." Gwen turned to her. His eyes softened with a tenderness reserved only for her. "It's time she got the care she deserves."

He pulled a Chanel box from behind him. The fifty-thousand-dollar gown.

"This is for you, Eliza." He handed her the box. "You deserve the best."

Eliza took it. Her eyes glistened. "Gwen, I don't know what to say. You've already done so much for me."

"This is just the beginning." He stroked the back of her hand. "I'll make sure you're never hurt again."

The room erupted in applause. I sat in my corner. The world was spinning.

Every nerve in my body screamed. This was wrong. This was cruel.

I tried to control my face. I failed.

Gwen's sharp gaze found me. Those eyes once held so much love for me. Now, they were glacier cold. Full of mockery.

"What's wrong, Flora? Jealous? I'm comforting my dead brother's wife. He died for me, remember?"