The office of MediaStream had fallen into the particular quiet that only comes after everyone else has gone home, when the hum of computers and the click of keyboards become amplified in the emptiness. Lily Price sat hunched over her monitor at 9:47 PM on a Thursday evening, triple-checking the quarterly report that would determine whether she finally escaped the financial prison her marriage had become. Her eyes burned from staring at spreadsheets, but she forced herself to review every number one more time because tomorrow’s presentation to the CEO was her best chance at the promotion she’d been chasing for six months.
“Family must be waiting for you,” Henry Price, the head of marketing, said as he passed her desk with his briefcase. He’d stayed late himself, but even he was heading home now, and the observation carried a note of concern that made Lily’s stomach tighten with guilt she didn’t deserve to feel. “I want to finish tonight,” she replied, rubbing her eyes.
“The presentation has to be perfect.”
Henry nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Your diligence is commendable. By the way, we’ll be making a decision soon about the key account manager position.” The meaningful look he gave her made her heart skip—this was the role that had opened when Serena went on maternity leave, the position that would finally give her financial breathing room and, more importantly, autonomy.
“I’ve almost finished that Art Media project you assigned too,” Lily added quickly. “It’ll be ready by Monday.”
“Spending your weekend on work again,” Henry shook his head, though his tone held approval rather than criticism. “Don’t overdo it, but I appreciate the dedication.”
After he left, Lily allowed herself to lean back in her chair and smile wearily at her reflection in the darkened window.
The manager position wasn’t just prestigious—it came with a thirty percent salary increase. Thirty percent. With that money, she could finally feel like a person rather than a paycheck that belonged to everyone except herself.
She arrived home around eleven to find the apartment lit and the television blaring from the living room. Before she could even remove her coat, her mother-in-law’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Where have you been wandering until this hour?” Gloria stood in the kitchen doorway with her arms crossed, her expression arranged in that particular combination of concern and accusation she’d perfected over the three years since moving in to “help with the baby.”
“Good evening, Gloria,” Lily said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.
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