Chapter 155 - The Obscene Offer (1/2)
”I was waiting for my son to leave,” Matilde says, stepping into the suite without waiting to be invited. ”Because what I intend to tell you isn't for him to hear.”
”I…uhh…” Claire stammers. There's nowhere she can hide this time. She cannot hide behind Gabriel or Miguel; she has to face her. And during these times, for some reason she remembers one little trick she learned when she was in college, being a competitive debater: whenever your nerves get to you, just smile your sweetest smile, and it will help calm you down.
So Claire, with everything she's got, smiles to Matilde Tan and offers her a seat. ”Would you like some tea, coffee, Ma'am?”
Matilde stares at her from head to foot. ”I see you are well-trained as a secretary,” she says, not without condescension.
I'm not a secretary, Claire's mind protests. But then again, she was, wasn't she? She did ”play” as the executive ȧssistant, and at least in the first few days of serving in Gabriel's employ, she was the errand girl. So.
Matilde walks around the living room, looking around. ”Well, this is impressive. At least my son knew how to elevate people of lowly origin to his own level. I ȧssume this was all provided to you, no?”
”Uhh, y-yes, Ma'am,” she says.
”How generous of my eldest son,” Matilde mutters. She stops and looks at Claire. She even smiles. ”I apologize for my behavior earlier, Carol…”
”It's Claire, Ma'am—”
”Claire. Sure. Claire it is. As I was saying, I apologize. I didn't know you. In fact, I still don't. For me, you come across as a highly ambitious young woman who will do anything for a buck. Not that I can't believe that you'd really fall in love with Gabriel—my son's one of this country's most eligible bachelors, and very handsome, no? So falling in love with him is easy. What I've been reacting to, is the unfortunate lack of anything you're bringing to the table.”
Claire's brow knits in confusion. ”How do you mean?”
”It's simple. For me, marriage is all about partnerships, alliances. Call me old-fashioned, but unless you or your family can match my son's stature, if you have businesses or lands that can somehow offer some benefit to our family, then I don't think you're worth marrying. Because you and Gabriel, young lady, is a terribly imbalanced match.”
”But…” Claire tries to speak, but she couldn't find her voice—there are a million things she wants to say right now, and yet, they're all trying to come out of her throat at the same time. In the end, all she manages to say is, ”Is wealth the only thing you care about?”
Matilde Tan gazes at her, her face inscrutable. ”On the surface, your question seems simple, even perhaps rhetorical. And I'm a bit puzzled—have the words I've just said led you to think I only care about wealth? No, Carol, or Claire, that's quire a narrow way of looking at it. I care about the future. I care about compatibility. I care about growth. I care about you—with your upbringing, cultural and personal background, and everything else that makes you YOU—and whether or not you'd be happy with my son, with everything that makes him the person that he is. Between you and Gabriel is a wide, unbridgeable abyss, Carol or Claire. And whatever you think you're feeling now, whatever dėsɨrė you feel in your loins or longing in your heart, that will be nothing once you're living together and discovering, to your dismay, that you couldn't stand each other.” Matilde sighs. ”That, and the fact that you're not bringing anything to the table. Yours would be a completely asymmetrical partnership, and such partnership rarely lasts. That's why I am vehemently against it.”
”But that's just being human, isn't it? That's being in love. The heart feels what it feels—it doesn't calculate the worth of the one being loved.” Claire chokes on her tears. ”Didn't you once fall in love, too? Didn't you come from more humble origins? Gabriel said you used to be very poor. Pardon me for saying this, but you're not old money. And the fact that you've succeeded means anyone can succeed—anyone with the passion and determination to do so. How can you not understand what Gabriel and I have, when you used to be in my shoes a long time ago?”
Matilde says nothing. Without a word, she walks over to the glass wall; she gazes at the city's skyline. ”Half of these buildings are owned by me. By Tan Holdings. And it wasn't easy. It didn't take only passion and determination—it took me unimaginable sacrifices just to succeed.” She turns to Claire. ”And looking at you, and the way you're coming into this relationship, I highly doubt you'd have the stomach to do the things I did. You don't have the proper constitution. When I look at you, I see only a pretty face. You even look pretty when you cry. I can see why my son is so smitten by you. But that's it. Looks fade. Beauty fades. On this planet, we are so briefly gorgeous—in a few years, your beauty would be nothing but a memory. And when that happens, how can you hold on to your man? How can you stop him from looking elsewhere for younger, fragrant flesh?”
Claire feels like her knees have turned into rubber. Her hand seeks support on the wall, as she slowly sits down on the divan, trying so hard to stifle her tears. At the back of her mind, she knows the more she cries, the more she appears to be some weakling, like some damsel in distress.