Richard shifted uncomfortably. For the first time that evening, his usual charm deserted him. “Eleanor…” he started, but the words caught.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice but lifting her chin. “If you want to be admired out there,” she nodded toward the glittering crowd, “then you’d better remember who helped you build the foundation you stand on. I am not invisible, Richard. And I won’t let anyone—even you—make me feel that way.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint music inside. Richard looked at her then, really looked. The strength in her eyes, the unwavering steadiness in her stance. He remembered the woman who had encouraged him to take his first leap into business, who had believed in him when no one else did, who had made their home a place of safety and grace.
He swallowed, his bravado fading. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I… I wasn’t thinking. I let myself get caught up in appearances. But you’re the one who matters, Eleanor. Always.”
