The Silence of the Gilded Cage

Chapter 1: The Echo of the Strike

The taste of betrayal is distinct; it tastes like copper. It is the metallic tang of shock that floods your mouth when the person who vowed to protect you becomes the one you need protection from.

My husband—my CEO, the face of Sterling & Wolfe—didn’t just humiliate me at that restaurant. He erased me.

We were dining at L’Oubli, the kind of establishment where the lighting is dim enough to hide sins but bright enough to catch the sparkle of diamonds. The menu had no prices, and the silence was heavy, purchased by old money and desperate pretenders. Ethan was in a foul mood. The quarterly earnings were down, and naturally, in the twisted logic of a narcissist, this was somehow the fault of his pregnant wife.

“You’re slouching,” Ethan hissed, swirling his Pinot Noir with a violence that threatened to snap the stem of the glass. “You look bovine, Claire. Pull yourself together.”

I adjusted my posture, my hand instinctively drifting to my belly. I was seven months pregnant, my feet were swollen into sausages inside my designer heels, and my back ached with a dull, throbbing persistence. “I’m trying, Ethan. The baby is just kicking a lot tonight.”