The narrative frames “their version” and “her version” identically: Frederick Ives was a jealous man. It traces Frederick’s jealousy from childhood—of peers’ successes and teachers’ attention—to home, where he resented Francine Ives’s effortless command and indifference to their mother’s disapproval.

As a young adult, Frederick envied others’ engagements and, at twenty-seven, the move to his father Gerald Ives’s coastal “castle” made him jealous of cousin Ruth, who enjoyed Gerald’s structured care that Frederick never had. The pattern establishes that, despite great wealth, Frederick always wanted what he could not have.

When Francine found purpose reviving Hearth & Home Journal and proved herself their father’s true heir, Frederick’s jealousy deepened. He halfheartedly tried to value his role at Royal Pictures, napped in his corner office, and slept with his secretary, Shelley. Gerald routinely diverted negotiations he did not care about to Frederick, ensuring Frederick would mishandle them and feel incompetent—something Frederick loathed because it meant a loss of control.

In 1935, director Doris Bernhardt barged into Frederick’s office, furious at being relegated to “the deadbeat son.” Contrasted with Shelley’s softness, Doris appeared austere and uncompromising. Frederick, scrambling for control, dismissed Shelley and faced Doris, who demanded answers about a proposed renewal that paid less over a longer term despite her being benched for six months. Frederick initially parried with industry-age excuses for fewer opportunities, prompting Doris to excoriate him and the studio’s sexism.

Realizing Doris was a director with hits—including one smash—Frederick questioned why Gerald would push her out. He concluded Gerald assumed he could underpay her because he had discovered and cultivated her, and that rival studios might not hire her. Doris, exhausted but resolute, challenged whether her proven work mattered; Frederick admitted such treatment was the industry’s “realistic” standard but offered to advocate for her, stating he genuinely wanted her next film at Royal Pictures.

Doris thanked him without deference and declared she would not renew with Royal. When she left, Frederick felt an acute emptiness and recognized a new, unnamed longing. The moment fixed his desire and sense of loss, signaling that his apathy had cracked and he was “a goner.”