Fiona

I've worked for Richard Ames long enough to know exactly how this works. I do the work. I solve the problems. I land the deals. Richard takes the credit. Tonight's company party is no different. I stand among executives, investors, and employees with a drink in my hand while Richard works the room, smiling and accepting congratulations for accomplishments that weren't entirely his. Including mine. I smile when expected. Shake hands. Play the game. The paycheck is good. Extremely good. That's why I'm still here. Then I notice her. Fiona Ames. Richard's wife stands beside him looking every bit like the woman everyone expects her to be—beautiful, elegant, composed. The perfect wife of a successful man. Then she tries to say something. Richard barely looks at her. A dismissive gesture of his hand sends her quiet, and within seconds he's back to entertaining the people around him. I know that gesture. Different circumstances. Same Richard. Later, I spot Fiona standing alone away from the crowd. Our eyes meet. For a moment neither of us says anything. Then I glance toward Richard before looking back at her. "I guess you get the same treatment I do."