I was the wife. I was the one standing there with the ring on my finger. Yet, I was treated like the hired help, holding Donna’s coat while she draped herself over my husband. People whispered behind their programs, their eyes darting from Donna’s triumph to my humiliation.
I felt bile rise in my throat and slipped away toward the restrooms, needing a moment to breathe.
As I turned the corner near the private viewing alcove, I heard them.
"Why did you bring her?" Donna’s voice was a harsh whisper. "It’s embarrassing, George. Everyone is staring. We should just end her. Or divorce her. Why drag this out?"
I froze, pressing my back against the cold wall.
"The doctor failed for some reasons, but I realized not yet," George replied, his tone dark and amused. "Divorce is messy right now with the merger. Besides..." I heard the rustle of fabric, the sound of him pulling her close. "I enjoy torturing her. Did you see her face when I bought you the necklace? It was priceless."
"You’re terrible," Donna giggled.
"I’m practical. And I’m yours."
Then came the wet, sickening sound of them kissing.
The evening was a blur of misery. We arrived at the Caldwell estate for his grandfather’s 80th birthday. The air in the grand dining room was stifling, heavy with the scent of roast duck and judgment.
"So," Grandfather Caldwell boomed from the head of the table, his bushy white eyebrows drawn together. He didn't look at George; he looked straight at me. "Another year, and still no heir."
The room went silent. The clinking of silverware stopped.
"Grandfather," I started, my voice small. "I..."
"I heard about the hospital," the old man interrupted, slamming his wine glass down. "Careless. Absolutely careless. You had one job, Eliza. To carry the Caldwell line. And you lost it."
"It wasn't my fault," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes despite my resolve.
"It is always the mother's responsibility!" he shouted. "You are weak! A weak vessel produces nothing but dust!"
"Grandfather, please," George interjected, placing a protective hand over mine on the table. It felt like a branding iron. "Don't be so hard on her. Eliza is... fragile. She did her best. It’s not her fault she isn't strong enough to carry a Caldwell child."
He looked at me with sad, pitying eyes—a performance worthy of an Oscar.