The Wife He Underestimated Chapter 08
Six months after leaving Marcus, I stood in my London gallery at the opening of an exhibition I’d funded–emerging artists from Eastern Europe,
brilliant and hungry and unknown.
Investment banking wasn’t my only passion. I’d discovered I loved finding talent, nurturing it, watching it grow.
“Isabelle.” My assistant, Sophie, appeared at my elbow. “Mr. Steele is here.”
I turned. Marcus stood at the entrance, looking lost among the art and champagne and people who belonged.
He’d aged. Only six months, but he looked years older. Gray threaded through his hair. Lines etched deep around his eyes.
“Do you want me to have him removed?”
“No. Let him come to me. If he dares.”
He did dare. He crossed the gallery floor like a man walking to his execution.
“Isabelle. You look… incredible.”
I did. I knew I did. Custom Valentino, hair swept up, diamonds at my throat–not the dainty necklace he’d given me, but real stones. Moretti stones.
*Marcus. This is unexpected.”
“I needed to see you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m losing everything, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
That’s not my problem.”
“I know. I know it’s not. But Isabelle, please. Just tell me what I did wrong. Tell me how to fix it.”
I studied him. Really looked at him. This man I’d loved once. This man who’d had everything and thrown it away.
“You can’t fix it, Marcus.”
“There must be something-”
“There’s nothing. You built your company on a foundation of my connections, my strategy, my expertise. Without that foundation, it can’t stand. That’s not a failure of skill. It’s a failure of truth.”
7 thought I was good at this.”
“You’re adequate. But adequate isn’t enough at that level. You needed me. You just refused to admit it.”
“So what do I do now?”
8
“You survive. Or you don’t. Either way, it’s not my concern.”
“How can you be so cold?”
+45 Coins
“Cold?” I laughed. “Marcus, I spent five years being warm. Being supportive. Being everything you needed. And you barely noticed I existed. Don’t
mistake self–preservation for coldness.”
“I noticed. I just didn’t realize-”
“You didn’t realize I was a person? A partner? Someone deserving of respect and attention?”
“I took you for granted.”
“Yes. You did.”
A collector approached, wanting to discuss one of the paintings. I turned to him smoothly, switching to fluent Russian, discussing brushwork and composition and investment potential.
When I turned back, Marcus was still there, watching.
“You speak Russian?”
“I speak six languages. You never asked.”
“What else don’t I know about you?”
“Everything, Marcus. You don’t know anything about me. And now you never will.”
“Isabelle-”
“Marcus, stop. You want absolution. You want me to tell you it’s okay, that you didn’t really destroy everything. But I can’t give you that. You made your choices. Live with them.”
“And Victoria?”
“What about her?”
“She left. Two months ago. When the money started running out.”
I’m not surprised.”
7 was. I really thought she loved me.”
“She loved what you represented. When that changed, so did she. Funny how that works.”
“You’re not like her.”
“No I’m not I loved you when you had nothing. I built an empire with you. And you still chose her. So no, Marcus, I’m not like her at all. I’m worse. I’m the one who got away”
I walked away from him then, joining a group of investors discussing my latest acquisition–a biotech firm in Singapore that was about to revolutionize
cancer treatment
8
When I looked back, Marcus was gone.
Sophie appeared again. “He left you this.”
An envelope. I opened it.
Inside was a check. For $50 million.
+45 Coins
And a note: “I know this doesn’t come close to what I owe you. But it’s all I can offer. Thank you for everything you did. I’m sorry I never said it when it
mattered. – M”
I studied the check for a long moment.
Then I tore it in half.
“Sophie, send this back to Mr. Steele with a message: Ms. Moretti doesn’t accept charity from failed investments.”
Sophie grinned. “Savage.”
“Accurate.”
My phone buzzed. Father.
“I hear Marcus crashed your exhibition.”
News travels fast.”
“He offered you money?”
“Fifty million. I tore up the check.”
Father laughed, delighted. “That’s my girl. Any regrets?”
I looked around the gallery–my gallery, filled with my discoveries, my investments, my vision made real.
“Not even one.”
