Chapter 4 Nicole

The ballroom sparked with a thousand glittering lights, a dissonanting sound of clinking glasses and polite chatter filled the air as I looked around the scene. Here I am, among the titans of the business industry, the captains of commerce, and I didn't feel like I was out of place.

The red dress I wore was now a symbol of power and declaration, a declaration that I belonged here in the midst of business elites, not just as Nicholas Jackwood's wife, but on my own merit, as Nicole Thomas, the successor of my late father's company.

Yet, despite the outward confidence, a flicker of self-consciousness remained. This was my first pop event as Nicholas's wife. I attended once when my father was still alive. This made me over conscious of myself.

Nicholas moved through the room like a shark in familiar waters, a charming smile and a witty remark at the ready for every social encounter. But while his gaze flitted across the room, it lingered a beat too long on a certain young socialite, her laughter tinkling like expensive jewelry.

A familiar pang of jealousy stabbed at me, a bitter reminder of the real reason why Nicholas returned late from his unfinished business. He wasn't just here for business deals or social niceties; he was here to do what he knows how to do best, which is to indulge in his favorite pastime.

Ignoring the knot of anger tightening in my stomach, I straightened my posture, and embraced the remaining feeling of confidence left in me. Tonight, I won't be a silent bystander in this ballroom. Tonight, I would play my part, hold my head high, and perhaps, I would find my own voice and my healing. Maybe it is time to stop being a wife who is affected by the actions of her husband and start being a woman who is defined by her own strength and ambition.

If I claim I wasn't bothered by Nicholas's blatant disregard for me, it would be a lie. The sight of him flitting from social butterfly to social butterfly, each interaction punctuated by a flash of a suggestive smile and a lingering touch, sent a fresh wave of anger crashing through me.

But I refused to let him ruin my night. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, I decided to play the game even if I wasn't a match for him in this game. This was, after all, the world I'd married into, a world of carefully constructed appearances and strategic conversations.

Before I knew it, familiar faces began to emerge from nowhere. There was Mr. Thompson, a long-time business associate of my father's, who offered his heartfelt condolences and a warm smile. Julian Bergen, a fellow entrepreneur I'd met at a conference, praised my recent victory against my conniving uncle, his words laced with admiration. And then there was Mrs Sara Quincy, a potential investor in my upcoming project, who engaged me in a stimulating conversation about the future of the business industry.

As the minutes melted into hours, I found myself captivated by the ebb and flow of conversation. I shared stories with those who asked about my fight for my father's company, my voice gaining strength and confidence with each word. I listened to their insights, their ideas sparking a flicker of inspiration within me. In that whirlwind of conversation, I momentarily forgot about Nicholas and whatever he was doing.

For the first time that night, I felt a sense of purpose, a connection to people, to something bigger than the suffocating cage of my marriage. Perhaps, I mused, there was a way to navigate this world on my own terms. Maybe I should continue to build my network of allies, forge my own path in the business world, a path paved with respect and hard work.

A tug on my elbow pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see Nicholas, the expression on his face was a mask of forced amusement. But before he could utter a word, a voice cut through the air.

"Nicole! There you are! I was just looking for you," Julian Bergen called out, his smile genuine. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, a welcome escape from the impending confrontation with Nicholas. Tonight, I didn't have the strength to ask him about whatever he was doing. I wouldn't even warn him to be careful about his image in this ballroom. I'd allow him myself, and I'd do it myself.

Julian and I chatted effortlessly for minutes, he was a good escape for me. As we jumped from one topic to another, I noticed Nicholas staring at me from the other side of the ballroom. If he was bothered, he wouldn't have left in the first place. Julian's presence was needed someone else, so I was left alone again.

Just then, a woman with a cloud of blonde hair and a dress that shone like spilled champagne stood beside me. "You know," she slurred, her voice thick with cocktails, "marriage isn't a bed of roses, but you can add roses to it!" She giggled, the sound like tinkling ice cubes.

To be honest, I had no idea who she was. Maybe a socialite on the arm of a minor investor, or perhaps a plus-one with a penchant for overindulgence. Either way, her words swam in my head, nonsensical and strangely profound at the same time.

"I... I don't understand," I stammered, blinking in confusion.

The woman, oblivious to my bewilderment, continued, "My husband, oh he was a Mr. Ladies' Man back then! Everyone wanted him. But you see, I didn't enter marriage like a battlefield. No weapons, just roses." She finished her pronouncement with a flourish, then teetered away on stiletto heels that defied gravity.

I stared after her, a bewildered smile spreading across my face. Her garbled message, delivered in a tipsy haze, somehow resonated with me. Was she suggesting I fight fire with... flowers?

The absurdity of it made me laugh, a genuine, unrestrained peal that bubbled up from my chest. Maybe there was truth in her nonsensical ramblings. What does it mean to bring roses to a battlefield? I don't even know how to add roses to the bed of my marriage. The absurd idea made me laugh.

The only answer I have now is cultivating my own garden, nurturing my own strength and happiness. I would seek help, a therapist who could guide me through the emotional battlefield I'd been navigating for far too long.

It was time to stop seeking validation from people who couldn't offer it, and start focusing on being a better woman, a strong woman, a woman deserving of love, respect, and a life filled with roses.

Looking back at Nicholas who was busy as usual, his indifference was the contrast of the hope I had felt rekindling within me, I knew I had made the right choice.