Chapter 3 - The Price of a Name
|
"Respect?" The word tasted bitter in my mouth. "We stayed up until two in the morning. I'm exhausted!"
Dorothea set her porcelain cup down on the saucer with a sharp click. "So did I, Marina. But I was the one ensuring this family did not look like a disgrace. You should be grateful we opened our doors to you."
"Grateful?" I turned toward her, my fists trembling at my sides. "I paid for half the venue out of my own savings! My parents paid their share in full!"
"A wife does not keep score," Dorothea sneered, stepping closer. She leaned over the counter, lowering her voice so it cut like a razor. "You should reduce your hours at that architecture firm after our honeymoon. A home cannot be run by female ambition. Graham has never lifted a dish in his life because a real man should never be confused about his place."
Right on cue, Graham Rourke—Caleb's father—strolled into the sitting room nearby, unfolding the morning newspaper without making eye contact with anyone. He took his seat like a king expecting breakfast to appear magically before him.
"I spoke to Caleb last night," Dorothea continued casually, as if discussing the weather. "You two will be moving into the guest wing here for the next six months. You'll save money, and I will teach you the proper rhythm of running a household."
I looked at Caleb. "You agreed to this? Without talking to me?"
Caleb refused to meet my eyes, taking a long drink from his mug. "It makes financial sense, Marina. Stop fighting everything."
"You are fortunate, Marina," Dorothea added, her tone coated in toxic condescension. "Some women marry into nothing. You married into a name."
May you like
I looked down at the sink full of ice-cold grease, then at the three members of the Rourke family. The illusions of the past two years shattered instantly. They hadn't wanted a daughter-in-law. They had wanted a trophy with a steady paycheck and submissive hands.
"A name," I said quietly, wiping my damp hands on a dish towel, "is not the same as a life."
