Chapter 6 - The Defection
Friday morning arrived with a biting Chicago wind that swept off Lake Michigan and rattled the glass windows of my condo.
I was dressed in a charcoal-grey tailored pantsuit with crisp white silk underneath—my corporate armor. My hair was pulled back into a sleek, low bun. When I walked out of my bedroom at 8:00 AM, Vance was sitting at the kitchen island, staring blankly at a cold cup of black coffee.
He hadn't slept. His eyes were red-rimmed, his suit jacket was wrinkled from being worn two days in a row, and he looked smaller than he had on our wedding day.
"You're going to work?" he asked, his voice dead.
"Yes," I said, picking up my leather briefcase. "And at four o'clock this afternoon, Diana Sterling is filing the paperwork."
Vance flinched as if I had struck him. He stood up slowly, pushing his chair back against the floorboards.
"My mom called me this morning," he whispered.
"Let me guess. She's still planning to storm my office with Harlan?"
"No," Vance said, his voice cracking slightly. "Eleanor Vance's secretary called Harlan at seven-thirty. Apparently, Eleanor heard about the threat, pulled up Harlan's corporate tax filings through a mutual acquaintance at the SEC, and threatened to launch an independent audit into his country club's embezzlement loopholes if they came within three blocks of the Loop."
I raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. Never mess with a former federal prosecutor turned management consultant.
"So they backed down?"
"Harlan threw up in the country club parking lot," Vance murmured, looking down at his polished black shoes. "Mom is currently in bed with a migraine. Tatum is screaming that everyone in the world is persecuting her."
"And you?" I asked. "Where do you fit into this Greek tragedy, Vance?"
He looked up at me, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Not angry tears. Defeated ones.
"I called my mom at eight o'clock," he said.
I waited.
"I told her that she was wrong," Vance said, his voice shaking. "I told her that Tatum crossed a line with the seafood fork. And I told her that if she ever disrespects you or tries to steal our money again, she won't see me or any future grandchildren for the rest of her life."
The silence in the kitchen stretched for five long seconds.
"And how did she take that?"
"She screamed that I was under your spell, called me a traitor to the family name, and hung up on me." Vance let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "I guess I'm officially excommunicated from Oak Brook."
I set my briefcase down on the floor.
I walked over to him, stopping just a foot away. I looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, any lingering umbilical cord connecting him to Loretta's apron strings.
"It's a steep price to pay," I said softly.
"It's the price I should have paid five days ago," he replied, his voice steadying. "When I watched Tatum hit your hand... I was a coward, Sloane. I was so used to keeping the peace for them that I sacrificed my own wife to do it. I don't want to be that man anymore."
I reached out, my fingers gently brushing against his lapel, smoothing out the wrinkles from the night before.
"Good," I said. "Because I don't married cowards."
"Does this mean..." He swallowed hard. "Does this mean the annulment is off?"
"The annulment is on probation," I corrected with a faint smile. "We're going to couples therapy next Tuesday. You're going to learn how to set boundaries, and I'm going to learn how to breathe before I slap your sister."
Vance let out a breath that sounded half like a sob and half like a laugh, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my neck.
May you like
"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for not giving up on me."
"Don't thank me yet," I murmured against his shoulder. "Thanksgiving is only six weeks away. And if your mother serves crab legs, I’m bringing a taser."
