Chapter 49 And so the marriage starts
Vivienne's POV
We learned from each other slowly. The way he liked his coffee. Black, no sugar, but only after he'd been awake for an hour. The way I needed silence in the mornings before I could talk.
He worked all the time those first months. Rebuilding what the broken merger had damaged. His father's company had taken a hit. Investors were nervous. Partners were pulling out.
So many things were happening at the same time.
Raphael would leave before sunrise. Come home after dark. But he always came home to me.
"Tell me about your day," he'd say, even when he looked exhausted.
So I would. About the book I was reading. About the call with my sister. About nothing and everything. And slowly the tension would leave his shoulders.
We fought sometimes. Real fights. Not about big things. About stupid things. Like how he never closed the cabinets. Or how I left my shoes everywhere.
"You're driving me crazy," I said one night.
"Good," he said. "Means you care."
He was right. I cared so much it scared me. It's a fake marriage and I'm not supposed to care. The thought of it scares me.
The business started turning around in month six. A new investor from Singapore. Then a deal in Germany. Small wins that added up.
Raphael started smiling more. Sleeping better. Coming home earlier.
We'd have dinner together. Real dinner. No takeout eaten over the sink. We'd sit at the table and talk. About his day. About mine. About ideas for the future.
"I want you involved," he said one night. "In the business. Not just as my wife. As my partner."
I didn't know anything about his world. About deals and contracts and negotiations.
"You know people," he said. "You see things I miss. I need that."
So I started sitting in on meetings. Just listening at first. Watching how things worked. How Raphael read people. How he knew when to push and when to wait.
I was terrible at it initially. Asked stupid questions. Misunderstood basic concepts. But Raphael never made me feel dumb.
"You'll learn," he said. "I did too."
By the end of the first year I understood the business. Not all of it. But enough. Enough to have opinions. Enough to help.
We celebrated our first anniversary on the yacht. Same place we got married. Just us and the ocean.
"Best year of my life," Raphael said.
"We almost went bankrupt," I said.
"But we didn't," he said. "We survived. Together."
He gave me a necklace. A simple gold chain with a small pendant. Our initials intertwined.
I gave him a watch. To replace the one he'd given me on our wedding night. This one was new but I had it engraved.
"Always enough. V."
We made love on the deck under the stars. Slow and gentle. Like we had all the time in the world.
Because we did.
Year two was when I became real to his world. Not just Raphael's wife. But someone who mattered.
It started small. Raphael would ask my opinion before meetings. "What do you think about the Milan proposal?" or "Does this guy seem trustworthy to you?"
I learned to trust my gut. The investor who smiled too much. The partner who never made eye contact. The deal that seemed too good.
"Pass on it," I'd say.
And Raphael would listen.
We worked out a system. He handled the numbers. The contracts. The technical parts. I handled the people. Reading them. Understanding what they really wanted.
"You see past the performance," Raphael said. "That's rare."
His team started respecting me. Not because I was the boss's wife. Because I was good at what I did. Because I caught things they missed.
But I stayed silent in public. No interviews. No photos beyond the necessary society pages. No statements.
"Why?" Stella, my new friend from the book club asked. "You could be famous. Powerful."
"I am powerful," I said. "I just don't need everyone to know it."
The truth was I liked working in the shadows. I liked being underestimated. People said things around me they wouldn't say if they knew how much influence I had.
Raphael's competitors thought I was decorative. A pretty face at events. They'd talk freely at dinners. At galas. Assuming I wasn't listening or didn't understand.
I understood everything.
"The Chen deal," I told Raphael one night after a party. "They're going to back out. The wife told me. Her husband's having second thoughts."
Raphael called Chen the next morning. Addressed his concerns before Chen could even voice them. Saved the deal.
"How did you know?" Chen asked, surprised.
Raphael smiled. "I have good sources."
We made a good team. Better than good. We were unstoppable.
The company grew. New offices in three countries. Staff doubled. Revenue tripled. Raphael's father called him a genius.
But I knew the truth. It wasn't genius. It was work. Endless, grinding work. Late nights. Early mornings. Weekends sacrificed.
And it was us. Two people who trusted each other completely. Who played to each other's strengths. Who covered each other's weaknesses.