I expected at least a few questions, maybe even a touch of concern. However, all he did was nod and hand me the bag.
"I was loud the other day... don’t be angry."
I had seen that bag on Stella’s WhatsApp Status the day before, tossed carelessly next to a discarded Hermès bag.
I did not even spare him a glance, simply replying, "Put it on the table."
He mistook my indifference for acceptance, sighing in relief before continuing. "Are you leaving today? If you are, then you need to reschedule. You and I are going to meet some clients at noon."
I responded calmly, "Socializing? Isn’t that Stella’s job as your secretary?"
His face hardened at my words, his tone suddenly stiffening.
"Stella got gastroenteritis from eating your mother’s cake, so she can’t drink."
"It’s all your mother’s fault. You need to make up for her sins."
I looked at him steadily, choosing not to challenge the absurdity of his words.
After Stella returned from abroad, Luther had arranged for her to join the company as his secretary.
But whenever there were social events involving alcohol, he would drag me along, letting other people drink me under the table while he and Stella laughed and chatted, completely indifferent to my discomfort.
It was not Stella who could not drink. It was clear that Luther did not want her to.
"The doctor said I can’t drink because of my condition," I said, gesturing to my forehead and stomach.
His eyes followed my hand to my stomach and for a brief moment, he seemed taken aback.
Today, I wore a tight dress and my belly, once slightly swollen, was now flat.
If he had any care for me at all, he would have noticed the change in my body.
After a beat, Luther spoke again, "If we drink red wine, it won’t affect the child."
I could not help but let out a bitter smile, but he took it as agreement, grabbing my hand and leading me out the door.
My physical weakness left me too drained to resist, so I was helplessly dragged forward by him.
With the passenger window half-open, Stella poked her head out and, in a playful tone, apologized.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Valdez. It's all because Luther spoils me so much, he doesn't want me going to drink with those guys."
Before I could respond, Luther smiled and pinched her cheek.
"Those guys like to get a little too comfortable after drinking. How could I let you go?"