The Golden Cage

by Camilla Lackberg

  “I’m not behaving like some cheap whore in a club without a thought for this family’s reputation.”

  “No, you just fucked her behind my back in our home, in our bed. And to be honest, I don’t actually know which family you’re talking about, Jack.”

  He spluttered. Then said in a more controlled voice, “Don’t do it again.”

  “I shall do exactly what I want. You have no mandate to tell me how I should live my life, who I sleep with or where I sleep with them. Goodbye, Jack.”

  She ended the call. Shut her eyes. Felt Robin’s tongue flitting across her clitoris. Her phone buzzed. Another text from Robin, telling her what he wanted to do to her. She hesitated, then sent a reply:

  I’m on my way back from Västerås. Will be at yours in a couple of hours. Who could turn down an offer like that?

  Faye took another sip of wine. She could feel some of the other guests at Sturehof staring at her, but ignored them. Let them wonder what happened between me and Jack, she thought, let them whisper and gossip. One day I’ll show them all.

  She cast a quick glance at the time again. Sophie Duval was seriously late.

  If Faye was going to find another partner now that Louise Widerström Bergh had turned her down, she needed to prove that she had financial backing, from investors who would not only contribute capital, but could also contribute to the mythology of Revenge.

  She had met Sophie Duval on a number of occasions when she was with Jack. She had always been effusive in her praise of Faye, and would be the perfect next investor after Chris. She had a high profile in the business world, she was young, attractive, and was a media favorite. She was constantly in the headlines, always with a new man on her arm, always talking about her new investments.

  Faye had never liked Sophie, but this was business, and she was convinced she could persuade Sophie to see the value of investing in Revenge.

  Faye had finished her first glass by the time Sophie glided in.

  “A glass of champagne, please. And I think I’m in the mood for the shellfish platter today,” Sophie said as she sat down, without looking at the waiter.

  She tossed her dark hair back and turned her attention to Faye.

  “How lovely that you got in touch! The last time we met was Oscar’s fiftieth birthday party in Cannes, wasn’t it?”

  Before Faye had a chance to reply Sophie had turned and clapped her hands to get the waiter’s attention.

  “How can it take so long to get a glass of champagne?” She glared at the waiter, who came running over with a glass and a bottle. “It may not be champagne-o’clock yet, but I got back from Hong Kong yesterday, so I’m still on Hong Kong time.”

  Faye sighed silently to herself in response to Sophie’s shrill laughter. But as long as she offered an investment Sophie could act as forced as she liked.

  The shellfish platter arrived along with Faye’s grilled char.

  “God, this is soooo good,” Sophie said, slurping happily from an oyster. “Better than sex, if you ask me.”

  She took a large gulp from her third glass of champagne, then looked at Faye.

  “So tell me, darling, how are you? Have things settled down? Divorces are never fun, and I should know. I saw Jack and Ylva in Båstad last weekend—they’re such a sweet couple. From what they were saying, little Julienne sounds completely adorable. Obviously they were sad it wasn’t possible to come to an agreement with you, so that they could have taken her with them.”

  She dabbed at her mouth with the linen napkin.

  “If you want my advice, you always have to think of what’s best for the child in situations like that, no matter how sad and upset you might feel.” Sophie put her hand on Faye’s. “Our children’s well-being is the most important thing of all, don’t you think?”

  Faye swallowed several times, she couldn’t let Sophie see how irritated she felt. It had been Jack’s weekend to have custody, but he had texted Faye at only three hours’ notice to say that he couldn’t possibly have Julienne because of a hastily arranged business trip.

  She smiled at Sophie. For the time being the most important thing of all was the bigger picture: securing the money and investment she needed.

  “Thank you, Sophie,” she said, then bent down to take out the folder containing her prospectus for Revenge.

  Sophie helped herself to half a lobster, then waved her hand dismissively.

  “Let’s eat first, we can deal with business afterward.”

  Faye let the folder slip back into her bag and reluctantly took a bite of the char. She had lost her appetite, but Sophie seemed to be starving. She licked her fingers noisily and occasionally let out a shrill “Hello, daaaarling!” when she caught sight of someone she knew.

  She managed to get through another two glasses of champagne before she finished the platter and leaned back contentedly.

  “So what do you say, shall we talk business now?” Faye said, reaching for her folder again.

  “Of course, darling,” Sophie said.

  She glanced at her watch.

  “Oh Lord, is that the time already? I’m late for my next meeting! Darling! This has been too lovely! We must do it again! Call my secretary and we’ll fix another date. But it won’t be for the next three or four weeks, I’ve got trips to Paris, London, New York, and Dubai lined up! I practically seem to have taken up residence in the VIP lounge at Arlanda these days!”

  Another shrill laugh, then she was gone.

  Faye sat there in mute astonishment. With a bill that was the equivalent of what she usually spent in an entire week.

  At first Faye couldn’t quite understand the sense of emptiness she felt. Then she realized. It was resignation. For the first time she was feeling a deep, overwhelming sense of resignation.

  Julienne was snoring gently beside her. Her eyelashes looked like little fans above her cheeks, her face was calm and relaxed, and her nose was twitching slightly in her sleep. Exactly the same expression she had had as a baby, sleeping in her crib. Faye used to laugh at her back then, thinking she looked like a baby rabbit twitching its nose. But now all she could do was smile weakly. She felt utterly exhausted, her meetings with Louise and Sophie had sucked all the life out of her.

  She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. Obviously she couldn’t assume that every woman would automatically understand what she wanted to do, what she wanted to say, simply because they were women. But even if it was naïve, that was probably what she had been hoping. Now she wasn’t at all sure how to recharge her batteries. The next would be make-or-break for the company. What if that one failed as well? The whole project would collapse if that happened. She wouldn’t be able to achieve what she’d set out to accomplish. Jack would be able to carry on his life undisturbed, without having to pay any price at all. The thought made her skin crawl.

  The sound of Kerstin working in the kitchen interrupted her worrying. Kerstin had insisted on cooking that evening, and Faye was pretty sure she was making one of Faye’s favorite dishes. Probably stuffed cabbage rolls.

  Julienne had her dinner before she went to bed, Kerstin wanted to be able to have a quiet talk with Faye, just the two of them. When Faye walked in the door earlier that evening she had been aware that she must have looked deflated. Kerstin was usually able to cheer her up, but Faye wondered if that was going to work tonight. Doubts were clinging to her like sticky tar.

  Julienne changed position in her sleep. She wasn’t often allowed to sleep in Faye’s bed, but tonight Faye wanted her daughter close to her. She would have dinner with Kerstin, talk through what had happened, then try to sneak back into bed beside Julienne again, and fall asleep to the sound of her breathing. She watched her daughter as she lay there in her thin white nightie, the one with the unicorn, then gently placed her free hand on her chest and felt her heart beating. Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. Gradually her
own heart started to fall into line and follow the same rhythm. That helped clear her thoughts. In the kitchen she could hear Kerstin clattering pans. The smell of food spread through the bedroom and Faye heard her stomach rumble. She felt her daughter’s rhythmic heartbeat through her palm again. Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. Her despair and frustration at the failed meetings began to fade. It wasn’t over yet. She still had the most important meeting to come. And she wasn’t going to let that one fail.

  Faye was making her way across the cobblestones of Blasieholmen. She realized she was feeling nervous. Her meeting with Irene Ahrnell was particularly important. Through her investment company, Ahrnell Invest, she owned a large slice of the three largest chains of department stores in Sweden. Not only was she a potential investor in Revenge, but she could help to get the products into shops. Right from the start Faye had known that Irene could determine if Revenge was going to be a success or just another of the thousands of failed hair-care products and perfumes.

  It was a crazy market to launch yourself at. One of the most difficult of all. Especially for someone like Faye who had no experience or platform in that area.

  She was still seething after her recent failures, the meeting with Louise Widerström Bergh in Västerås and the lunch with Sophie Duval. The bill she’d been left with after the latter had stung, causing her to reevaluate her priorities when it came to potential investors. She’d gone through her list and struck off anyone like Sophie; they only had fool’s gold to offer anyway.

  Irene Ahrnell was infinitely more crucial when it came to Faye’s chances of success. With Irene’s backing anything would be possible, internationally as well as in the domestic market.

  Faye had read up on Irene until she knew practically everything about her. Raised in an affluent family in Gothenburg, educated at Yale and Oxford. She was a generous donor to women’s organizations, and supported female entrepreneurs. She had an impressive network, stretching right across Europe and the United States. The fact that Faye had been granted a meeting presumably meant that Irene was curious about her after everything that had been written about her divorce from Jack.

  Faye didn’t give a damn what the reason was, the thing that mattered was that she was being given a chance to enlist Irene’s support. It was all up to her now.

  Ahrnell Invest was based on the fifth floor of a handsome building dating back to the early 1800s. The view across the water was magnificent. Faye was given coffee and shown into a meeting room.

  There were six chairs around the table. She remained standing, unsure where she should sit. She had been planning a rather daring opening move, but wasn’t sure how Irene Ahrnell would react. There was a risk that it could be taken as unprofessional. But her meeting with Sophie had made her realize that she couldn’t afford to let herself be easily dismissed. She needed to open with fireworks and demand the attention she deserved. Not wait politely until anyone deigned to give it to her.

  Faye could feel her back sweating. She was starting to do the very thing she needed to avoid, doubting and questioning herself and the whole idea.

  Irene came into the room wearing a navy-blue trouser suit. A cream silk blouse poked out of the top, Faye guessed it was one of Altuzarra’s tied blouses. She’d been hankering after one just like it, but couldn’t afford it until she had gotten her starting capital in place. She had borrowed the Stella McCartney suit she was wearing from Chris. A couple of months ago she wouldn’t have gotten the trousers over her knees, but now they fit perfectly. She hadn’t dared ask Chris what it had cost.

  Irene put a similar mug to the one Faye had been given down on the table and held out her hand.

  “Irene,” she said in a neutral voice. “We’ve got ten minutes before I need to leave.”

  Chair legs scraped the floor as they sat down opposite each other.

  Faye took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Reminded herself of why she was doing this. Conjured up the image of Jack thrusting between Ylva’s legs in their home, in their bed.

  “How many times in your life have you been betrayed by a man?” Faye asked, forcing herself to look Irene calmly in the eye.

  The image of Jack was still etched onto her retina. Her pulse rate slowed down. Her uncertainty vanished. The first shot had been fired.

  Irene looked unsettled at first but quickly composed herself. Her expression switched from surprised to affronted.

  “I consider that too personal a question to answer in circumstances like this.”

  She looked like she was about to stand up.

  Faye kept her eyes on her. Refused to let herself be put off by Irene’s initial reaction. Her intention was to shock, and there was no doubt that she had caught the investment manager’s attention. She leaned forward, folding her hands together on the conference table.

  “The answer to that question is the basis of my business idea,” Faye said. “But first, note that I didn’t ask if you’d been betrayed by a man. I took it for granted that you had been. And why is that so shameful, prompting you to react the way you did? You weren’t the one who did anything wrong.”

  Irene straightened her neck and leaned forward. She looked simultaneously amused and slightly unnerved. She seemed to make a decision.

  “Twice,” she murmured.

  Her features relaxed for a moment before she composed herself again. Outside on Standvägen some cars were blowing their horns angrily.

  Faye nodded.

  “And you’re hardly alone in that. As women, no matter what our standing in society, we will almost all of us have been betrayed by a man at least once. Yet we’re the ones who feel the shame. Who are left wondering what we did wrong. Now, why is that the case?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  Irene’s interest had definitely been piqued now. The door was ajar, and Faye needed to push through it. And be invited to stay.

  “Well, I’ve certainly had good reason to think about that,” she said. “Because it’s humiliating to be abused and then rejected. Sometimes because our husbands find someone else they want to spend the rest of their lives with, sometimes because of a squalid fuck in a conference hotel in Örebro. All the love, children, time, and effort we’ve invested. All that can be thrown away for a drunken fuck in a conference center. We’re replaceable. And they don’t appear to show any remorse. Or have the grace to feel ashamed. It’s as if it’s their right to trample all over us. And they have an invisible network that we can’t break into. Where they give each other advantages that aren’t offered to us. Because they regard us as inferior.”

  Irene didn’t speak when Faye paused for breath. But the hard expression on her face had softened. She looked curious.

  “Have you ever dreamed of taking revenge on a man who betrayed you, walked all over you, treated you badly?” Faye asked.

  “Of course, everyone has,” Irene said, and her face suddenly looked naked and vulnerable.

  Faye guessed she was seeing images in her mind. The sort of images you had to live with for the rest of your life, like war wounds, but in your heart rather than on your skin.

  “And did you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Irene reflected. “I don’t actually know.”

  “My ex-husband, Jack Adelheim, was unfaithful to me for years. I have no idea how many women he slept with. This spring I walked in on him while he was having sex with his finance director, Ylva Lehndorf, in our bed. And that’s only part of the betrayal. The less important part, really. I helped him build up his business empire. I can tell you the whole story some other time, over a few glasses of wine. But the short version is that he has me to thank for a lot of what he’s got now. Yet he wasn’t just unfaithful to me; when he discarded me, he left me high and dry. And you know what, Irene? I begged and pleaded with him to be allowed to forgive him so that everything could go back to normal. T
hat was how desperate I was to save our family. Even though he had taken everything—my career, my home, my security, my self-respect. In the end, I decided that enough was enough.”

  “And now…?”

  “Now I’m going to take it all back. Plus a bit extra.”

  “How?”

  They had switched roles. Suddenly, Irene was the one asking the questions. A sure sign that she was interested. She leaned closer to Faye, intrigued.

  “By refusing to feel ashamed,” Faye said, pushing a sketch of the Revenge packaging across the table. “And by tapping into an enormous target market. Smart marketing needs to press a button that no one has pressed before. Personalized marketing, taken to its extreme. Storytelling combined with good products.”

  Irene held the sketch up and inspected it carefully.

  “What does the R stand for?”

  “Revenge.”

  “I see,” she said with a wry smile. “What do you need me for?”

  “Distribution and advertising campaigns through the department stores you have shares in. I’ll do the rest. I’m going to bring as many successful women into the project as I can, and I’ve worked out a campaign strategy that’s unlike anything that’s been done before. Particularly when it comes to this type of product. I’m not asking you to invest as some sort of ideological gesture. I’m explaining my thinking so that you appreciate the immense potential of this project. The target market for our products isn’t just women, but women who are fed up with being let down by men.”

  There was a twinkle in Irene’s eyes. She picked up the sketch again and looked at it thoughtfully.

  Faye sat in silence. Let her think.

  She had decided not to make Irene an offer but to let her raise the subject instead. Irene’s share would be larger than the one percent she had been planning to offer the women who invested. Irene would get more. Faye had already given Kerstin five percent of the business. She had offered her ten, but Kerstin had refused, saying it was too much.