“As a woman yourself, can’t you feel for Kristen?”
I laughed softly as I looked at George Radcliffe.
“You’re the director at my brother’s hospital, overseeing thousands of people. How much is your salary? Is it better than hers?
He faltered, caught off guard, but quickly steadied himself.
“I’m talking about the basic compassion we should have as human beings. Don’t you have even a shred of it?”
I shook my head decisively. “I’m not a saint.”
As the future heir of the Hathaway family, mercy was the last thing I needed.
“Either fire her, or we divorce. Your choice.
I left the words hanging in the air. He should understand that I was letting him face the consequences himself. If I acted, he would be left with nothing.
But then he suddenly slammed the table.
“Just because I want to give Kristen a raise, you want a divorce?”
“Is it because I sponsored your medical school, then placed you in my brother’s hospital, that you believe you’re doomed to live beneath me forever?”
“As your husband, do I not even have the right to decide the maid’s salary?”
He had always been calm, composed, untouchable. Even when a dangerous patient pressed a knife to his back, he never wavered.