The Grand Ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton was bathed in gold and violet light. It was an event fit for royalty, paid for by a “generous anonymous donor” from the corporate office.

Mark arrived in a limousine. He stepped out, looking dashing in the blue tie Jessica had bought him. On his arm was Jessica herself—a striking woman in a red dress that was illegal in three states. She worked in HR, a department Elena had specifically instructed to hire more “creative thinkers.” Apparently, Jessica’s creativity lay elsewhere.

Elena arrived ten minutes later. In an Uber.

Mark had told her to meet him there. “It’s better if we arrive separately,” he had said. “I have to network early.”

Elena walked into the ballroom. She was wearing a simple black dress. Elegant, but understated. She stood near a pillar, watching her husband work the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mark’s voice boomed over the crowd as he held up a champagne flute. He was holding court near the ice sculpture. “They say behind every great man is a great woman. And I have to agree.”

He pulled Jessica closer. The crowd, assuming she was his wife, applauded politely.

“Jessica here has been my rock,” Mark lied effortlessly. “Her intelligence, her class… that’s what drives me.”

A junior executive leaned over to Mark. “Is that your wife, Mark?”