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<\/p>\n\u201cThat dress will only embarrass me,\u201d I heard my husband say from the second floor, while I stood in front of the mirror with freezing hands.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Spencer Conway had just stepped out of his black SUV at our wealthy estate in Shaker Heights, impeccably dressed in his gray suit, as if he were about to receive an award and not break my heart for the last time. Mrs. Gladys, the housekeeper, carefully asked him if I should get out. He didn\u2019t even glance up at my window.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo need. I\u2019ll go with Paisley tonight,\u201d Spencer replied coldly.<\/p>\n
I gripped the curtain tightly until my nails dug into my palm. I was wearing the only formal dress I still owned, a navy blue one I had bought before marrying Spencer. The cuffs were already worn.<\/p>\n
In three years, I never asked him for money, never used my last name, and never boasted about who my father was. I thought humility would make him love me. I thought if I made myself small, he would see me as more approachable. How foolish I was.<\/p>\n
Then I heard heels clicking on the marble floor. Paisley Daley appeared on my husband\u2019s arm, wearing a champagne-colored dress and a diamond necklace that sparkled mockingly. She clung to him with a cloying smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo I look pretty, Spencer?\u201d Paisley asked, looking up at him.<\/p>\n
He looked at her like he had never looked at me before. \u201cYou look perfect,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n
I went downstairs slowly. When Spencer saw me, he frowned as if I were a stain on his carpet. Paisley looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on the worn sleeves of my dress.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, so you\u2019re the wife,\u201d Paisley said, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. \u201cNow I understand why he never takes you anywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n
Spencer didn\u2019t correct her. His silence was worse than a slap.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Apex Group\u2019s annual event is too important,\u201d Paisley continued, tossing her hair. \u201cBusinesspeople, politicians, foreign partners, real people attend. You\u2019d be better off staying home, Phoebe. Looking like that, you might ruin his evening.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at my husband, waiting for a word, just one, but he only offered her his arm. \u201cLet\u2019s go. We\u2019re running late,\u201d Spencer said.<\/p>\n
I saw them leave together. The engine disappeared into the night, and Mrs. Gladys approached with red eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cMa\u2019am, shall I prepare something for you?\u201d Mrs. Gladys asked gently.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not hungry,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
I went up to my room, closed the door, and looked toward Euclid Avenue, where dinner was being held that night on the top floor of a luxury hotel. My cell phone vibrated, and it was a message from Paisley. I didn\u2019t know how she had gotten my number.<\/p>\n
It was a photo taken from the back seat of the truck. She was smiling and making a peace sign, while Spencer\u2019s profile was visible in the reflection of the window. Below she wrote: \u201cTonight I\u2019ll make him completely mine. Just you wait.\u201d<\/p>\n
I placed my cell phone on the table. I opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and took out an old red velvet box. Inside was a SIM card I hadn\u2019t used in three years. I inserted it into the phone, and there was only one contact in the address book.<\/p>\n
It was Dad.<\/p>\n
My finger trembled on the screen before I pressed the dial tone. It rang once, twice, three times.<\/p>\n
\u201cPhoebe?\u201d answered a deep, aged, incredulous voice.<\/p>\n
My heart broke at the sound. \u201cDad, I want to go home,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
On the other end there was a long silence. Then, Raymond Harrell, the man most feared by half of the country\u2019s business community, spoke with a broken voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy girl, I\u2019m coming for you,\u201d Raymond said.<\/p>\n
And then I understood that that night was not going to end with tears, but with a truth so great that no one in that room could bear to look at it. I couldn\u2019t believe what was about to happen.<\/p>\n
When I hung up, I sat on the edge of the bed, holding the velvet box as if it were all that remained of the woman I once was. Three years ago, I left my father\u2019s house in a storm, convinced that Spencer\u2019s love was worth more than any name.<\/p>\n
My father warned me back then that if I walked through that door for that man, I should not come back crying. I walked through it anyway, and I cried too late.<\/p>\n
My phone vibrated again, and Paisley was sending me a video from the living room. Chandeliers, glasses, music, and women dressed like they belonged in luxury magazines filled the screen.<\/p>\n
The camera zoomed in on Spencer, who was talking to several businessmen, looking cold, confident, and proud. Then Paisley\u2019s hand appeared, adjusting his tie as if marking her territory. Finally, she looked at the camera and moved her lips silently to say: \u201cIt\u2019s mine.\u201d<\/p>\n
I woke up from my daze with a calmness that frightened me. I looked at my ring finger, which still had the mark of the ring Spencer had asked me to take off three days earlier because, according to him, it didn\u2019t look good. The next day I saw a huge diamond on Paisley\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n
Someone knocked on the door. \u201cMadam,\u201d said Gladys, \u201cthere\u2019s a gentleman downstairs who says he\u2019s come for you. He arrived in a Bentley.\u201d<\/p>\n
I practically ran downstairs. In the living room was Joel, my father\u2019s driver since I was a child, standing tall, dressed in black, his eyes discreetly moved.<\/p>\n
\u201cMiss Phoebe, Mr. Harrell sent me for you,\u201d Joel said respectfully.<\/p>\n
Mrs. Gladys opened her mouth, completely confused. To her, I had always been a quiet, almost invisible wife, without family or a past.<\/p>\n
\u201cWait a moment, Joel,\u201d I said, feeling a surge of strength. \u201cI need to change.\u201d<\/p>\n
But Joel hadn\u2019t arrived alone. Behind him came two stylists, a makeup artist, and a rack full of dresses sent by my father. There was silk, rhinestones, embroidery, and colors that seemed to burn.<\/p>\n
I chose a long, simple red dress, without unnecessary embellishments. Then I opened my jewelry box and took out the ruby necklace my father had given me for my eighteenth birthday.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Rose of Fire,\u201d whispered a stylist in awe. \u201cNo one has seen her since that event in Geneva.\u201d<\/p>\n
When I saw myself in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself. I wasn\u2019t the humiliated woman in an old dress, because I was Phoebe Harrell, daughter of Raymond Harrell.<\/p>\n
On the way to the hotel, Joel told me that my father had continued cleaning my room every week. He told me that at Christmas no one could mention my name because his eyes would fill with pain, and that his health had worsened since I left.<\/p>\n
I swallowed hard. \u201cDrive faster, please,\u201d I urged.<\/p>\n
The Bentley pulled up in front of the luxury Grandview Hotel. The receptionists stood motionless as I stepped out, and though I didn\u2019t have an invitation, I didn\u2019t need one.<\/p>\n
I took the elevator to the top floor. As the doors opened, the music, laughter, and clinking of glasses hit me like a wave.<\/p>\n