From Lies To Loyalty

he would continue speaking even if oxygen were removed from the room.
“…of course my mother insists on proper standards,” he was saying, adjusting his cufflinks with a delicate flourish that suggested a lifelong appreciation for mirrors. “A wife should understand that a husband’s reputation reflects on her behavior. It’s simply… structure.”
Structure.
I lifted my wineglass, examining the deep red liquid. “Fascinating,” I said mildly. “And in this dystopian universe you exist in, do women also lose the right to oxygen?”
He paused, visibly startled — less by my words, I suspected, than by the novelty of encountering resistance.
His gaze flicked discreetly around the restaurant, perhaps checking whether witnesses had observed this unexpected rebellion from his potential bride.
The restaurant itself was dimly lit in the particular way expensive places believed made people look better than they were. Personally, I suspected it primarily existed to help men like Kenneth Greene appear less like the human equivalent of expired mayonnaise.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I prefer a woman who doesn’t challenge her husband publicly,” he murmured. “It’s unattractive when women try to appear… argumentative.”
From a distance, we probably looked like a couple sharing secrets over candlelight. Up close, however, it felt more like a business negotiation in which I was both product and purchase.
I smiled pleasantly. “You don’t like intelligent women? Or do you simply dislike losing arguments to them, Kenneth?”
He did not flinch. “I admire intelligent women, Lizzie. As long as they know when not to use it.”