Chapter 2 The Credit Was Mine

No one asked a single question when I was the one buried in financial records, chasing down documents, and calling in favors.

Yet, all Bianca did was greet a few bank executives, and suddenly her name was all over the meeting minutes as the person responsible for securing the credit line.

Mine never appeared, not even once.

My phone buzzed again. Once, twice.

Both messages were from Uncle Gabe.

"Elena, I've had the bank put everything on hold. I'm waiting for your final confirmation.

"You told me this money was the only thing keeping Westbrook Group afloat through the end of the year. Why are you suddenly pulling it? What did Matthew say to you?"

I stared at the last message until my eyes burned.

Gabriel Harrington had been one of my father's closest friends for decades, and he was also the chairman of Harrington Bank. He had known me since I was a child.

After I married Matthew, nearly everyone started calling me Mrs. Westbrook. However, Uncle Gabe never did. Whenever he saw me, he still opened his arms with the same warm smile and called me by my name.

A month earlier, Matthew had taken on two major expansion projects at the same time: a new distribution center and another cargo terminal. The company had used nearly all its working capital.

Vendors were demanding payment, and several shareholders had begun openly questioning his decisions.

Back then, Matthew barely slept a wink.

I woke in the middle of the night and found him sitting alone on the balcony more than once, smoking until dawn.

I hated seeing him like that.

So, I went to Uncle Gabe without telling him.

I gathered every document the bank requested, reconciled the books, sat through meeting after meeting, and explained the expansion plans until no questions remained. I kept going back until Harrington Bank finally issued its letter of intent.

That was the first night in weeks Matthew slept through.

And now he was standing there with the financing I had fought to secure, asking what I had ever done for the company.

Even worse, he was handing my credit to another woman.

My phone buzzed again.

Matthew glanced at the glowing screen and frowned. "Your phone's been going off this whole time. Are you going to deal with that?"

I looked up.

"The vendors are still waiting on you, Elena, and you're just sitting there staring at your phone."

He tapped the table impatiently. "When you're here, you're an employee just like everyone else. So, stop expecting me to make exceptions because you're my wife, and stop calling your family every time you don't like a decision I make. That's not how business works."

Then, he turned back to the video call. "Bianca, you'll take over the Harrington account from here, and don't worry about the gala. Your seat's still beside me. You earned this. You should get the credit for it."

My fingers slowly curled into my palm.

Matthew viewed me asking for a few days to recover from my surgery as special treatment. Yet, he made sure to get everything Bianca ever wanted without hesitation, even when she asked for a seat next to him.

Apparently, that was his idea of fairness.

I had spent years stepping aside for him, and Bianca somehow ended up taking a little more of the space I left behind each time I did.

I stopped arguing.

Instead, I pulled a chair and sat down.

Matthew's tone softened as soon as he saw me answering my messages. "There. Was that so hard?"

He shook his head slightly. "You didn't need to make a scene in front of everyone."

Then, he closed the folder in front of him and glanced around the room. "Anything that comes up over Christmas… I'm talking invoices, reconciliations, account problems—send it to Elena. She'll take care of it while I'm away."

Bianca gave me an apologetic smile through the screen. "Elena, would you mind covering my work, too? You're so much better at that stuff than I am. Plus, Matthew told me not to worry about work while we're away.

"He wants me to enjoy the trip, and I'd feel terrible if all his planning went to waste."

She added something else to Matthew, and he immediately looked toward the HR director. "Her files are on her desk. The blue folders. Bring them in."

They brought the files into the conference room and dropped them right on top of the envelope containing my scans within minutes.

Bianca's voice floated from Matthew's phone again.

"Oh, and Matthew said that everyone can finally get the bonuses they're still owed once the credit line comes through. So, now everyone can actually enjoy Christmas."

The department heads smiled for the first time that afternoon.

One of them stood to thank Matthew, while another joked about how much money he'd have waiting for him after the holidays.

Soon, an assistant brought in champagne and glasses.

The room quickly filled with congratulations, laughter, and the clink of glasses as people celebrated as if the deal were already sealed.

Through all of it, not one of them asked when I was being admitted to the hospital.

Right then, my phone lit up again.

It was another message from Uncle Gabe.

"Elena, once I formally withdraw the request, the bank will not proceed the credit facility as originally planned. Are you sure about this?"

Across the room, I saw Matthew accept a glass of champagne.

When he noticed I had stopped typing, his expression tightened. "How long does it take to send one message? The vendors aren't going to wait around all day."

I glanced at him one last time, then looked back at my phone and sent, "I'm sure. Withdraw it."