The next morning, the call to my lawyer was brief and to the point. No theatrics, no tears. Just cold, hard instructions. Every asset, every property, every investment, would be meticulously cataloged. The broken wedding photo, the stained car seat, Kallie's impromptu stay in our bedroom – all of it documented for property division. He would pay. For everything.
I spent the next few days in a blur of activity. My phone buzzed constantly with messages from concerned friends, but I ignored them. I needed to move. To breathe. To be free.
"Girls' night out," I announced to my closest circle of friends in our group chat. "My treat. Let's hit The Top of the Standard. Tonight."
The replies came swiftly, a mixture of excitement and disbelief.
Chloe: "The Top of the Standard? Adeline, you haven't been out past 9 PM in years! Corbin used to say it was too 'flashy' for his 'minimalist' aesthetic."
Sophia: "Seriously! Are you okay? Don't tell me you're finally dumping that pretentious architect!"
Isabelle: "Sophia! Don't be rude! But... are you?"
I typed a quick reply. "I'm always okay. And yes, I am. Corbin and I are getting divorced." I didn't wait for their reactions. I switched my phone to airplane mode and tossed it onto my bed. No time for hand-wringing.
First, a trip to the salon. I walked out with a new cut, sharper, bolder, framing my face with a defiant elegance. Then, a quick stop at my favorite boutique. I chose a dress that was unapologetically glamorous: a floor-length, backless emerald green gown that shimmered with every movement. It was a statement. A rebirth.
I arrived at The Standard, the city lights twinkling below like scattered diamonds. My friends were already there, a semi-circle of expectant faces.
"Adeline, you look... magnificent!" Sophia breathed, her eyes wide.
"Like a goddess!" Isabelle added.
"And you've picked up some new habits, I see," Chloe teased, gesturing to the three handsome men seated at our table. "Did you order us entertainment?"
I just smiled, a genuine, unburdened smile. "Consider it a bonus. I'm celebrating. And I'm making up for lost time." My eyes scanned the men, settling on a charming, dark-haired man with an easy laugh. "You," I gestured to him. "Come join me."
Hours later, the champagne flowed freely. My chosen companion was attentive, witty, and surprisingly insightful. He made me laugh, something I hadn't done in months, years even. But even as I flirted, as I felt the lightness of newfound freedom, a faint weariness began to set in. The performance, the constant charm, it was still a performance.
I excused myself, needing a moment of quiet. I found a secluded corner on the balcony, leaning against the cool glass, looking out at the sprawling city. The noise of the party, the clinking glasses, the laughter, faded into a distant hum.
That's when I saw them.
Corbin and Kallie.
They were standing near the bar, tucked away in a corner, but visible from my vantage point. He was holding her hand, stroking her fingers with his thumb. She was wearing a simple, flowing white dress, almost ethereal. It looked suspiciously familiar. A smaller, less embroidered version of the white linen dress I'd worn to our Hamptons summer party last year, the one Corbin had loved.
I watched them, a strange sense of detachment washing over me. He was leaning in close, his voice a low murmur. I couldn't hear the words, but I could feel the intimacy from across the room.
Kallie looked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. "My studio roof is leaking again, Corbin," she said, her voice carrying across the balcony, surprisingly clear in the quiet hum of the night. "It's destroying my new installations. And the landlord is impossible."
Corbin's brow furrowed with concern. "Oh, Kallie, that's terrible. We'll get it fixed. I'll send my team first thing in the morning."
"But the rent..." she began, her voice trailing off. "And I still owe Adeline for that... donation."
Corbin squeezed her hand. "Don't worry about any of that. I'll take care of it. All of it. You just focus on your art, on your vision."
She shook her head, pulling her hand away. "No, Corbin. I can't. I can't let you. I'm not with you for your money. I'm with you because you see me. You understand my soul, my struggle. I' m not some… trophy wife."
I almost choked on my champagne. Trophy wife? Her theatrical display was so transparent, it was almost comical.
"Well, well, well," a voice drawled from beside me. I turned to see the charming man I'd been with earlier, a wry smile on his face. "Looks like your husband's muse is quite the performer, even off-stage."
"You know her?" I asked, a flicker of curiosity momentarily eclipsing my anger.
He chuckled. "Everyone in the art world knows Kallie Vazquez. Or rather, everyone knows her story. The 'starving artist' with the mysteriously deep pockets." He took a sip of his drink. "She's good. Really good. At cultivating an image, I mean. Pure struggle, pure art. Untouched by commercialism." He paused, his eyes twinkling. "Except for the very rich men who fall for it, of course."
"What are you saying?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"Just that Kallie has a pattern," he said, shrugging. "She seeks out established, influential men in the art world. She becomes their 'muse,' their 'project.' They fund her, promote her, believe they're nurturing raw talent. And then, when she's gotten what she can, she moves on. Preferably with a slightly better-known name under her belt. She always leaves them feeling like they were the problem, too materialistic, too stifling for her 'pure' art."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping. "She's a long-game player, Adeline. Don't be fooled by the innocent act. She knows exactly what she's doing."
I stared at him, then back at Corbin and Kallie, who were now deep in conversation, her head tilted, listening intently to his every word. My companion' s words resonated with a chilling truth.
"And Corbin?" I asked, my voice strained. "What about him?"
He took another sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on Corbin. "Corbin? He's a classic case. Talented, yes. But deeply insecure. He wants to be seen as the artist, not just the businessman married to money. Kallie offers him that fantasy. She makes him feel like the savior, the patron of true art." He gestured towards Corbin's hand. "Notice anything missing?"
My eyes immediately went to Corbin's left hand. No ring. He hadn't put it back on.
"He's playing the hero in his own tragic romance," my companion continued, a hint of pity in his voice. "He thinks he's being noble, selfless. He's so busy trying to prove he's 'above materialism' by championing Kallie's 'pure' art, he can't see he's being played." He shook his head. "Honestly, Adeline, you deserve so much better than that self-important fool."
He turned back to me, his gaze warm and direct. "You're a brilliant woman, Adeline. Sharp, powerful. You have a keen eye for art and a business mind that could run an empire. Don't let him diminish you."
I smiled, a slow, genuine smile. "You know, you're surprisingly insightful."
"I've always been good at seeing what's real," he said, a hint of something more in his eyes. "Unlike some people." He gestured towards the bar. "Can I get you another drink? Or perhaps, something stronger?"
"You know what," I said, a new resolve hardening my voice. "Let's get you another drink. And make it the most expensive bottle they have."
He raised an eyebrow, a delighted smirk playing on his lips. "My pleasure."
As he walked away, I turned back to look at Corbin and Kallie. My eyes met Corbin's across the crowded room. His face immediately darkened. He looked surprised to see me, then angry.
He took a step towards me, his jaw clenched. "Adeline! What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice low and furious.
I merely arched an eyebrow. "I'm enjoying myself, Corbin. Something I haven't done in a long, long time."
"Go home, Adeline," he ordered, his eyes darting to my companion who was making his way back with two fresh drinks. "Now."
"Home?" I echoed, a mischievous glint in my eye. "Didn't you notice, darling? Kallie's already left the building. Looks like her 'fragile' artistic sensibility couldn't handle the truth." Indeed, Kallie was gone. She must have slipped away when Corbin was distracted.
Corbin hesitated for a moment, then, with a heavy sigh, he turned and walked towards me. "Fine. I'll take you home."
I laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. "Oh, Corbin. How generous. But I assure you, I don't lack for escorts. And that 'home' you speak of? It no longer holds any allure for me."
His gaze hardened. "Adeline, don't be childish. You're making a fool of yourself with this... this boy." He gestured dismissively at my companion, who was now standing beside me.
"This 'boy' is a respected art dealer, Corbin," I countered, my voice dripping with disdain. "And he, unlike you, doesn't need to be reminded of his origins. He doesn't resent the very hand that feeds him. He doesn't pretend to be something he's not."
Corbin's face turned a dangerous shade of crimson. He opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes narrowed into slits. Without another word, he spun on his heel and walked away, not sparing me another glance.
