Chapter 2 - The Taste of Greed
The shift was gradual, then sudden. By his thirtieth birthday, Marcus had been promoted to Senior Vice President at Belmont Financial. His paycheck had tripled, and so had his ego.
He started trading his sensible suits for custom Italian tailoring. He bought a luxury sports car and insisted they move from their cozy apartment into a sterile, modern penthouse in Manhattan. Clara played the role of the supportive wife, though the newfound flashiness made her uncomfortable. It felt hollow.
"Clara, you have to upgrade your wardrobe," Marcus snapped one evening as they were preparing for a corporate dinner. He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her simple navy dress. "You look like a secretary. My colleagues' wives wear Chanel. I need you to look the part of an SVP's wife."
Clara swallowed the lump in her throat. "I thought you liked that I was low-maintenance."
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"There's a difference between low-maintenance and stagnant," he replied coldly, adjusting his Rolex. "I'm moving up in the world, Clara. You need to keep up."
The dinners became unbearable. Marcus would parade her around, but quickly dismiss her to talk to the "important" people. He began dropping hints about her lack of ambition, her simple tastes, and how she didn't understand the complexities of high finance. If only he knew that the very markets he obsessed over were manipulated by her father’s morning phone calls.
