Chapter 2

A month later, the tension was a constant, unspoken guest in our house. The fundraiser gala for Nicole' s Senate campaign was the biggest night of her career. I had orchestrated every detail, from the guest list to the lighting. Our entire future, and the future of our consulting firm, rested on this night.

I stood at the side of the ballroom, watching as Nicole took the stage. She looked radiant, powerful. The crowd of D.C. elites was captivated. I felt a familiar surge of pride. This was what we had worked for.

"Thank you all for being here," she began, her voice resonating with practiced sincerity. "You all know me as a fighter for the people. But tonight, I want to talk about the real engine behind the success. The strategist."

She smiled at me. I smiled back, a reflex.

"My husband, Caleb Duncan. The Architect."

The massive screen behind her lit up. I expected a montage of our campaign victories. Instead, it was a picture of me, a candid shot from a few years ago, laughing with a wealthy female donor. It was innocent, but the implication was there.

Then another photo flashed. Me, in a closed-door meeting with a powerful male senator. The angle was tight, making it look conspiratorial, intimate.

The room went quiet. I could feel hundreds of eyes turning towards me.

"Caleb is a master of... persuasion," Nicole continued, her voice dripping with a meaning that turned my stomach. "He has a very special, very personal way of securing support for our causes."

The slideshow accelerated. Photos of me at events, with clients, men, women. Then, the final image appeared, and the air was sucked out of my lungs. It was a photo from our bedroom. I was asleep, turned away from the camera. It was intimate, suggestive, and a complete violation. It was a picture only she could have taken.

"His success," Nicole announced, her voice ringing with false righteousness, "comes from sleeping his way through Washington. He's a whore who trades his body for political favors."

The shock in the room curdled into a sick, intrigued murmur.

"But his talents shouldn't be wasted only on me," she said, her smile widening into a predatory grin. "So tonight, for any of you who pledge your full and unwavering support to my campaign, I am offering a reward. A private strategy session with The Architect himself."

She paused, letting the words hang in the air. "He'll do whatever it takes to ensure your... success."

She was auctioning me off. In front of everyone. My wife was selling me like a piece of meat.