“I’m home,” he announced, not waiting for a response. He walked straight past Elena to the fridge, grabbing a beer.
“Hi, honey,” Elena said, wiping her hands on her apron. “How was work?”
Mark sighed—a long, dramatic exhale designed to solicit sympathy. “Brutal. Absolutely brutal. The board is putting so much pressure on Marketing. They don’t understand vision, Elena. They just want numbers. But I handled it. I always do.”
Elena nodded, suppressing the urge to correct him. She knew exactly what the board wanted because she was the board. She had sent the email directive that morning demanding better ROI on the new ad campaign—the campaign Mark was supposedly leading.
“I’m sure you did great,” Elena said softly.
Mark took a long swig of beer and looked around the kitchen. “Is dinner ready? The place looks a bit… chaotic.”
He gestured vaguely at a stack of mail on the counter.
“I was just finishing up the laundry,” Elena lied. In reality, she had been on a secure video call with the Prime Minister of Singapore. “The casserole needs five more minutes.”
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