He did not take me to a mall or a salon. He drove Downtown, to a penthouse overlooking the river. It was elegant but not ostentatious. High ceilings, white walls, floor-to-ceiling windows with linen curtains. It was the first place in a long time that felt like it was allowed to be quiet.
Our story was not made of magic and perfection. We met six years ago. I worked as an administrative assistant for a consulting firm. He never introduced himself as the president of Kingsley Ventures, a conglomerate with investments in renewable energy and architecture. We married at a courthouse with no one to witness the event except two strangers who were also filing paperwork. We kept it secret. I wanted my achievements to be mine. I feared my family would sink their claws into him the way they sank them into everything else I touched.
“Your mother crossed ethical lines,” Beau said when I sat on the sofa shaking slightly. “And not only in how she treated you.”