Chapter 2

Mabel Wheeler, Adam's assistant, showed up that day too. She was standing in the doorway, wrapped in a stunning cashmere coat, her round face and big eyes making her look even younger.

When she smiled, those dimples popped out. She was seven years younger than me.

As soon as she stepped inside, Adam took her coat and hung it up on the coat rack in our entryway.

I sat on the couch, shot the coat a look, and stayed silent.

Mabel caught me looking, and her smile faltered for a second before she put it back on.

She walked over and sat down next to me, her voice sweet as honey. "Chelsey, this is all Adam's fault. He's so impulsive. Don't take it to heart."

I replied, "It doesn't bother me."

She went on, "So, where are you going to live now? Want me to ask around and see if any of my friends have a place you could rent?"

"Mabel," Adam said quietly from the side.

She shut up, but her smile never wavered.

Brian slid the last document over. I skimmed it, signed it, stood up, grabbed my thermos from the coffee table, and headed for the door.

Adam called out, "Chelsey, anything you want to ask?"

"About what?" I replied.

"About the Virtue Foundation," he said, pausing. "My research funding is still waiting for approval. Since you know folks over there, maybe you could still put in a good word for me."

I paused and turned back to face him.

Adam looked completely at ease, like he'd already wrapped up the big stuff and was tying up loose ends.

He said, "Don't worry. I'll stay in touch with your family. The resources you need won't be cut off. I've got it all under control."

He thought the Virtue Foundation was a favor my family did for him.

He had no idea who really owned that foundation.

I replied calmly, "Got it."

Then I walked out of the apartment we'd called home for ten years.

I didn't rush to find a new place to live.

I called my brother, Jacob Massey.

When he picked up, the background was noisy, like he was in a hallway outside a conference room. He told me to hold on, then I heard his footsteps, and the noise faded as he stepped into somewhere quiet.

"It's done?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

After a five-second pause, he asked, "Want me to go talk to him?"

"No, that's not necessary," I replied.

"Chelsey." His voice dropped to a low, serious tone. "Don't let anyone treat you badly. You've always had options. You were never stuck."

I said, "I know. Jacob, I need you to do something for me. When the Virtue Foundation's year-end review comes up, have Stuart put Adam's application on hold. Don't approve it, don't reject it, let it sit there."

He paused for a moment, then asked, "Just putting it on hold isn't enough. How long do you want it to stay that way?"

"Wait until the celebration party."

"The celebration party?"

"His big celebration. I'm guessing it'll be next month. Have Stuart keep an eye on the date, and make sure he's there in person."

Jacob was silent for a while, then let out a quiet, pleased chuckle.

He asked, "Alright, I'll handle it. Chelsey, where are you right now?"

"I'm going to pick up my own keys," I replied.

Just ten minutes east of Emerald Residence, on the north bank of the Serene River, there's a newly developed area with the Sunny Bay Apartment building.

It was in my name. I bought it five years ago, but never moved in. All the furniture was picked out by me. Adam didn't have a say in any of it.

I unlocked the door and stood in the doorway, taking in everything that had waited for me for five years. I took a deep breath.

The windows looked right out over the Serene River, and the view was even better than what I had at Emerald Residence.

My phone rang. It was Rachel Sanderson.

"You didn't show up today," she snapped as soon as she answered. "What happened? I asked you to go shopping with me this afternoon, and you ghosted me. Seriously, what's up with you?"

"I'm divorced," I said.

She went completely silent for three seconds, then I heard a chair screech across the floor on her end.

"What did you just say?"

"We signed the papers this morning."

Her voice shot up. "Adam? That so-called academician? He was the one who asked for it?"

"Yeah."

"Chelsey." Her voice dropped to that low, tight tone I knew so well. The one she always had right before she lost it. "Did you cry?"

"No," I said.

"Where are you right now? I'm coming to find you," she said.