Chapter 4 - STEVEN’S COMPANY ASKED ANGELA TO HELP SAVE HIS REPUTATION, AND SHE REFUSED TO BECOME HIS ALIBI
The photograph spread before Angela reached Rebecca’s apartment.
By the time she removed her coat, three national entertainment sites had reposted it.
By dinner, business publications were asking whether Steven Daniels’ personal scandal could affect the Northshore Media acquisition.
By nine, television anchors were using phrases like:
“high-profile marital turmoil.”
“supermodel affair.”
“anniversary humiliation.”
Angela hated all of it.
Not because Steven looked bad.
Because strangers were turning the worst night of her marriage into entertainment.
Rebecca stood in the kitchen reading comments.
Angela took phone away.
“Stop.”
“I was blocking people.”
“You don’t know them.”
“I can hate strangers efficiently.”
“No.”
Rebecca sighed.
“Fine.”
Angela sat.
Her own phone buzzed.
Natalie.
Then Steven.
Then an unknown number.
She ignored all three.
The unknown number called again.
Then left voicemail.
“Mrs. Daniels, this is Caroline Shaw, Chief Communications Officer at Daniels Capital. I’m sorry to contact you directly. We have a sensitive situation and would appreciate ten minutes.”
Angela stared.
Rebecca said:
“Absolutely not.”
Angela agreed.
She forwarded voicemail to Natalie.
Ten minutes later Natalie called.
“Caroline contacted me too.”
“What does she want?”
“She says speculation is affecting Northshore negotiations.”
“Why is that my problem?”
“It isn’t.”
“Good.”
“But they want to know if you would issue a statement saying you and Steven were privately working through marital issues before the photograph.”
Angela laughed.
“No.”
“Expected.”
“Anything else?”
“They would like you photographed entering your home together.”
Angela stopped laughing.
“What?”
“Not necessarily today.”
“Caroline suggested a visible joint appearance could ‘cool speculation.’”
Rebecca heard and shouted:
“Tell Caroline to walk into Lake Michigan.”
Natalie covered laugh with cough.
Angela stared at wall.
“They want me to make his affair look like a mutual rough patch.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Also…”
“What?”
“Steven told them not to contact you.”
Angela became quiet.
“Then why did they?”
“Because boards panic.”
That mattered.
Steven had not authorized.
Still.
His company had spent years treating Angela like part of executive image.
Charity dinners.
Holiday portraits.
Campaign events.
Now they assumed she was available for crisis management too.
“No statement.”
Angela said.
“No photo.”
“No comment except through you.”
“Done.”
The next morning, Steven called.
Angela answered because they had agreed pregnancy communication could be direct if needed.
“Are you okay?”
he asked.
“I’m not having symptoms.”
“I meant…”
“I know.”
He sounded exhausted.
“I told Caroline not to contact you.”
“She did.”
“I know.”
“She’s been suspended from handling this.”
Angela sighed.
“Do not punish people theatrically because you think it impresses me.”
Silence.
“I didn’t.”
“Then why suspended?”
“She ignored my instruction and exposed the company to legal risk.”
That sounded more like Steven.
Fine.
“What is happening with Northshore?”
He laughed bitterly.
“You still care?”
“No.”
“I’m asking because your board thinks my face affects it.”
Another silence.
“Northshore wants assurances governance is stable.”
“Is it?”
“No.”
Honesty.
Good.
“Board asked me to take temporary leave.”
Angela froze.
“Are you?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Why not?”
“Because the acquisition—”
She almost laughed.
“Of course.”
“What?”
“Northshore.”
“Every road leads to Northshore.”
“Angela, six hundred employees depend on this.”
“Then maybe six hundred employees deserve a CEO who can leave for three weeks without company collapsing.”
He went quiet.
That line hurt him.
Good.
Not because she wanted pain.
Because it was true.
Steven said:
“They want me to issue apology.”
“To who?”
“Employees.”
“Board.”
“Public.”
“What would it say?”
“That I had a consensual relationship with Sloane while married.”
“Good.”
“That I regret personal harm.”
“Good.”
“That company resources were not used.”
Angela paused.
“Were they?”
Silence.
There.
“Steven.”
“Some travel overlapped business.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sloane was at events.”
“Did company pay?”
“Hotels.”
“Flights.”
“Sometimes.”
“Did your board know?”
“No.”
Of course.
“What about Bellamy’s?”
“My card.”
“Company or personal?”
“Personal.”
“Good.”
“Apartment?”
“What apartment?”
Angela’s heart changed.
Sloane had mentioned Gold Coast.
Steven went quiet.
“Angela.”
“You offered her an apartment.”
“How do you know?”
“She told me.”
A long silence.
“Did company pay?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“I put deposit down.”
“How much?”
“Sixty thousand.”
Angela breathed.
“Joint account?”
“No.”
“Personal investment account.”
“Marital?”
Silence.
“Steven.”
“Yes.”
There.
He had been using marital money to prepare a home for another woman while Angela scheduled fertility appointments.
Good to know.
“Tell Natalie.”
“I will.”
“Not because I’m trying to take everything.”
“I know.”
“Because I will not learn details accidentally anymore.”
“I understand.”
Then Steven said:
“Angela.”
“What?”
“I’m taking leave.”
She said nothing.
“For how long?”
“Until independent review.”
“Good.”
“I thought you’d be pleased.”
“I’m not your board.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
Then:
“I have something for you.”
“No gifts.”
“Not gift.”
“What?”
“The card from the ivory box.”
Angela froze.
She had removed it before letting him see ultrasound.
“It isn’t yours.”
“I know.”
“I’m not asking to read it.”
“Then?”
“I wanted to tell you I saw handwriting.”
“And I wanted it.”
“What did it say?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Progress.
The card sat now in Rebecca’s kitchen drawer.
Angela had written:
Five years ago you promised me a life. Tonight I get to tell you we made one.
She had not been able to look at it since Bellamy’s.
Steven never would.
Some words belong to the person you thought existed.
Not the person who proved otherwise.
Two days later, Steven publicly announced temporary leave from Daniels Capital.
The statement did something unexpected.
It admitted the affair.
Not “inappropriate friendship.”
Not “misunderstanding.”
Not “private matter.”
He wrote:
I began a relationship outside my marriage while still representing to my wife that we remained committed. That was dishonest.
Angela read twice.
Rebecca stood behind her.
“Wow.”
“Low bar.”
“Extremely.”
Still.
No blaming marital problems.
No saying effectively separated.
No saying Sloane seduced him.
He also admitted company resources may have been improperly used and would be reviewed.
Northshore acquisition paused.
The board appointed interim CEO.
Steven lost control of the thing he had used to justify losing everything else.
Then Sloane issued her own statement.
She said Steven had represented himself as privately separated.
She acknowledged learning enough over time that she should have questioned the story.
She apologized to Angela by name.
Angela did not enjoy seeing her name.
Still.
Truth.
Then at 10:12 that night, Angela began spotting.
Very little.
Brown.
Still terrifying after previous losses.
Rebecca drove her to Northwestern.
Angela’s heart felt like it was tearing open before doctors even examined her.
Seven weeks.
Too early.
Too fragile.
Dr. Ellis performed ultrasound.
There.
Heartbeat.
Strong.
Angela sobbed.
“Subchorionic bleed.”
Dr. Ellis explained.
“Small.”
“Common.”
“Not caused by a newspaper article.”
Angela almost laughed.
Rebecca sat beside her.
Then nurse entered.
“Angela?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a man in waiting room.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Steven?”
“Yes.”
“How does he know?”
“Your emergency contact was still him in old hospital record.”
Of course.
Angela closed eyes.
“Do you want him here?”
Rebecca asked.
Angela looked at ultrasound screen.
Tiny heartbeat.
Steven’s child.
Their child.
She thought.
Then:
“Not in the room.”
“Tell him baby is okay.”
Dr. Ellis nodded.
“And?”
Angela swallowed.
“Tell him he can wait.”
That was all she could give.
Steven stayed in the waiting room for four hours.
He did not knock.
Did not call.
Did not ask staff to pressure.
When Angela finally left after midnight, he stood.
His face pale.
“Okay?”
Angela nodded.
“Baby?”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
“Thank God.”
Then stepped aside.
He did not touch her.
Did not ask to ride with her.
Only said:
“I’m sorry you were scared.”
Angela looked at him.
“I was.”
“I know.”
For once, he did not try to fix it.
And that small restraint unsettled her more than another argument would have.
May you like
Because the man she had begged to choose their marriage was finally beginning to listen—
after she had already chosen to leave.
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