Mr. Borodin kissed the baby’s forehead, the gesture a casual, effortless display of the joy Jane could not give him. "At first, they are loyal and exciting," he went on, his tone turning clinical. "But with time, they start comparing themselves to your wife, even trying to take her place.""Too bad," the host chimed in, nodding sympathetically."Exactly. They demand the same handbags, the same vacations as your lovely wife. They spin lies effortlessly and see you as little more than a financial safety net. That ugly woman you once found special becomes … entitled. Rude.""That's powerful advice for the men out there," the host said, beaming at the perfect couple."Yes," Clara affirmed, her voice serene."And what do you have to say, beautiful Mrs. Borodin?" the host asked.'Beautiful Mrs. Borodin', the title Jane had clawed for, the identity she had coveted, was bestowed upon this other woman with such casual grace. A fresh wave of nausea twisted Jane’s stomach, hot and sour. She was
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