\u201cI\u2019m home,\u201d he announced, not waiting for a response. He walked straight past Elena to the fridge, grabbing a beer.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi, honey,\u201d Elena said, wiping her hands on her apron. \u201cHow was work?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark sighed\u2014a long, dramatic exhale designed to solicit sympathy. \u201cBrutal. Absolutely brutal. The board is putting so much pressure on Marketing. They don\u2019t understand vision, Elena. They just want numbers. But I handled it. I always do.\u201d<\/p>\n
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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\u2014the campaign Mark was supposedly leading.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sure you did great,\u201d Elena said softly.<\/p>\n
Mark took a long swig of beer and looked around the kitchen. \u201cIs dinner ready? The place looks a bit\u2026 chaotic.\u201d<\/p>\n
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He gestured vaguely at a stack of mail on the counter.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was just finishing up the laundry,\u201d Elena lied. In reality, she had been on a secure video call with the Prime Minister of Singapore. \u201cThe casserole needs five more minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
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