“And I even ordered the cake made from your grandmother’s secret recipe—the one only a single bakery in New York can get right. And what does it matter? None of it counts because your delicate sister suddenly needs a personal driver?”
“Don’t blow this out of proportion,” David muttered. “We’ll cancel the reservation and celebrate at home. Just family.”
“Family?” Victoria’s voice sharpened. “You mean your mother and your sister?”
“Of course. They’re my family.”
“And what am I?”
“You are too. Don’t be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” she said quietly. “I’m leaving.”
She walked into the bedroom and pulled a suitcase from the closet.
“What are you doing? Victoria, stop.”
“I’m going to my parents’ place in Chicago. Enjoy your birthday with your mother and your sister. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.”
“Victoria, that’s enough! Put the suitcase down!”
“No.”
She packed swiftly, taking only essentials. David stood frozen in the doorway, staring as if he didn’t recognize the woman in front of him.
“You’re serious? Over something this stupid?”
“If four years of humiliation qualify as ‘stupid’ to you, then yes. I’m serious.”
“Where will you even go? You don’t exactly have money to throw around.”
She paused, then slowly turned toward him.
“I own a business that nets about one and a half million dollars a month,” she said evenly. “I have an apartment that I rent out. I have savings I never combined with our joint finances—because your mother constantly hinted I was after your money. So please, don’t worry about me.”
The color drained from his face.
“One and a half million? But you said—”
“I said business was good. You never cared enough to ask for details. It was easier for you—and for your mother—to think of me as that pathetic ‘flower seller.’”
His phone rang. The screen flashed: Mom.
“Go ahead,” Victoria said tiredly. “Don’t keep Evelyn waiting.”
He answered and put it on speaker.
“DAVID! Has that creature arrived yet? I demand she apologize to Melanie immediately! And to me as well! Or you throw her out of the apartment!”
“Mom, I’ll call you back—”
“Don’t you dare hang up! You need to put that sharp-tongued woman in her place! Show her who’s in charge in your house! I will not tolerate this kind of disrespect toward my family!”
Victoria lifted her suitcase and headed for the door.
“Victoria, wait!”
“Tell Evelyn,” she said, pausing with her hand on the handle, “mission accomplished. I’m leaving.”
The door closed softly behind her, but to David it sounded like a gunshot.
“David? DAVID! Are you even listening to me?” his mother screeched through the phone.
He ended the call and collapsed onto the couch.
The next day—his birthday—turned into a disaster. Victoria ignored every attempt to reach her. At the restaurant “Marseille,” Allison met him with cool professionalism and informed him that the celebration had been canceled at the request of the birthday guest.
“I never canceled anything,” he protested.
“Your mother called yesterday and said you’d be celebrating at home with family. The deposit will be refunded to Victoria’s card.”
Guests his wife had invited called one after another, offering congratulations and asking why the party had been called off. His childhood friend Paul—whom Victoria had tracked down through social media—was especially upset. He had flown in from Boston just for the occasion.
At home, his mother and sister were waiting. On the table sat a supermarket cake and a bottle of cheap sparkling wine.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Evelyn sang. “You see? We took care of everything. Not like that ungrateful woman.”
“Mom, what is this?” David asked, staring at the pitiful cake.
“A festive dinner! Melanie picked it out. Didn’t you, dear?” Evelyn chirped, her sweetness painfully artificial.
“Where’s Victoria?” Melanie asked, glancing around.
“She went to her parents’. Because of you two.”
“And good riddance!” Evelyn declared. “We don’t need hysterics in this family. You’ll find a better wife. Someone from a respectable background. With a proper dowry.”
“Mom, Victoria is from a good family. And she runs a very successful business.”
Evelyn let out a mocking laugh. “Flowers! That’s your definition of success?”
“Her studio is one of the most sought-after in New York. She has contracts with major hotels and restaurants. She organized the deputy mayor’s wedding.”
Evelyn pressed her lips together.
“Even so. Her attitude is unbearable. Always acting superior.”
David looked from his mother to his sister as if seeing them clearly for the first time—the pettiness, the envy, the bitterness.
“You know what? Go home. I want to be alone.”
“But darling, it’s your birthday!”
“Go. Home.”
Offended, they gathered their things and left.
He remained in the silent apartment. On the hallway console lay two plane tickets—Victoria had bought them as a gift, a trip to Italy. Now they felt like a cruel joke.
A week passed. She didn’t return. She still refused his calls. He tried reaching her through her friends, but they answered coldly: she was fine and asked not to be disturbed.
Trouble soon followed at work. Several major clients had originally signed with his firm thanks to recommendations from Victoria’s business partners. Now those same clients were hesitating, questioning the company’s reliability. “If a man can’t manage his own household,” one remarked bluntly, “how can we trust him with multimillion-dollar contracts?”
Evelyn phoned him relentlessly—ten times a day—insisting he file for divorce immediately.
“We have to move first!” she urged. “That viper will try to take half of everything!”
“Mom, the apartment is in both our names,” David replied wearily. “She has the right to half of it.”