Chapter 10: Two Different Worlds

Emma stood outside the nonprofit's office longer than she needed to.

The glass doors hadn't changed. Neither had the faded sign beside them, or the coffee cart across the street where volunteers overpaid for lattes every Friday.

Yesterday this place had simply been work.

Today she wondered if she'd still be welcome, and hated that the question had even occurred to her.

She squared her shoulders and went in.

The receptionist looked up. Surprise flickered, then a smile.

"Good morning, Emma."

Not Mrs. Kingsley.

Just Emma.

Something in her chest loosened.

"Morning."

For the first time since the wedding, somewhere still felt like hers.

The elevator opened onto the fifth floor. Conversations paused, just long enough for her to notice, then picked back up around her.

People hugged her. A few offered careful congratulations. One volunteer told her she'd looked beautiful in the photos, as if that were the safest thing left to say.

Nobody mentioned the internet.

Nobody had to.

She reached her office and shut the door.

Silence.

She'd barely sat down when Rachel knocked.

"You've got a board meeting in twenty minutes."

"We weren't scheduled until next week."

"I know." Rachel hesitated at the door. "They just want to discuss a few things."

"What things?"

"They didn't say."

That wasn't an answer. It was the kind people gave when they didn't want to be the one delivering bad news.

Six board members were already seated when Emma walked in. Faces she'd worked beside for years. Their smiles looked careful rather than warm.

A folder sat in front of every chair but hers.

"Congratulations on your marriage," the chairman said. "We're all very pleased for you." A pause. "There is, however, a concern."

"Our donors have been calling," another member said.

"They're worried what it means for the foundation's image," said a third, "having a billionaire's wife on staff."

Emma looked around the table.

"You think I shouldn't work."

Nobody answered right away.

"It isn't about whether you're capable," the chairman said carefully. "It's about optics."

"I've raised money for this foundation for six years."

"We know."

"I've never once let my personal life interfere with that."

"We know that too."

"Then this isn't about my work at all."

No one disagreed.

"Then say what you actually mean."

The room went quiet in the particular way rooms go quiet when everyone is waiting for someone else to say the hard part.

The chairman folded his hands. "We think, given everything, it might be better if a director stepped back from public work for a while."

Silence.

"No," Emma said.

It came out steadier than she expected.

"I'm not resigning because strangers online have opinions about my marriage."

The door opened before anyone could respond.

Ethan didn't knock.

Every head at the table turned.

"Mr. Kingsley," the chairman said, half-rising.

Ethan didn't sit. He didn't raise his voice.

"I understand there's a concern about my wife's position here."

"We were only—"

"She'll be keeping it."

No threat. No mention of the foundation's funding, though everyone at the table clearly thought of it anyway.

He said it the way he might mention the weather.

The chairman opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Ethan looked at Emma.

"Ready?"

She was, though she hadn't expected to feel it standing in a room that had just tried to talk her out of her own life.

Outside, rain had started, light enough that nobody bothered with umbrellas.

"You didn't have to do that," Emma said once they were in the car.

"I didn't do anything. You'd already said no."

"You still came."

"Nathan mentioned the meeting wasn't on your calendar. I didn't like the sound of that."

It wasn't concern, exactly. Or it was, but the kind that arrived dressed as logistics.

She studied him.

"Why does it matter to you? What I do for work."

He considered the question longer than she expected.

"I married you," he said. "Not your schedule."

Emma looked out the window and said nothing.

She thought about those five words longer than she should have.

Nathan glanced back from the front seat.

"Your father called while you were in the meeting. Dinner, this Friday. Both families."

Emma's stomach tightened before she could stop it. A room full of Kingsleys and Bennetts pretending everything was fine sounded worse than the boardroom she'd just left.

"Did he say if Olivia's coming?"

Nathan didn't answer right away, which was answer enough.