Chapter 8 - The Velvet Guillotine
The plan was set for the evening of December 28th—the annual Vance Capital Winter Gala held at the Plaza Hotel, where Julian was scheduled to be officially announced as the managing partner of the new European fund. It was the summit of his career, the moment he would cement his status before vanishing across the Atlantic.
For the next three days, Emma played her role with terrifying discipline. She cooked his meals, let him kiss her cheek, and pretended not to notice the bags he was quietly packing in the guest closet. She smiled as he kissed the babies goodnight, knowing every gesture of affection was a rehearsed lie. The emotional pain had evaporated, replaced by an arctic calm. She was no longer Julian’s fragile wife; she was an operative in his downfall.
On the night of the gala, Julian dressed in his custom tuxedo, adjusting his cufflinks in the mirror of the master bedroom. "Are you sure you don't want to come, Em? The board would love to see you, but I understand if the twins are too much to leave behind."
"I couldn't possibly leave them," Emma replied from the bed, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders with practiced frailty. "Go celebrate, Julian. You’ve earned this."
He smiled, kissed her forehead, and whispered, "I’ll make you proud tonight."
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As soon as the front door closed, Emma stood up. She walked into her dressing room, pulled out a tailored emerald-green evening gown she had hidden beneath her winter coats, and picked up her phone. "Clara, the nanny is here. Bring the car around."
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