Chapter 14
I did not marry for three years.
People talked.
Of course.
A twenty-five-year-old female boss with a canceled wedding becomes community entertainment.
Then twenty-six.
Twenty-seven.
Twenty-eight.
Still alive.
Still powerful.
Apparently unmarried women do not dissolve after all.
Bramwell once joked that half our rivals were waiting for me to choose a husband so they could calculate him.
I said:
“Let them wait.”
He laughed.
Good.
I dated.
Carefully.
No one gained meetings because he ate dinner with me.
No one got introduced to capos as future male balance.
No romantic partner became informal authority.
Not because love was dangerous.
Because ambiguity was.
The rules became simple.
My personal life was personal.
My organization had roles.
Marriage would not merge those automatically.
May you like
Some men called it cold.
I called it legible.
