Chapter 3

I sent Rachel the address, then stood by the window, staring out at the Serene River. Adam's words from earlier kept echoing in my mind, like how he'd stay in touch with my family, and the resources wouldn't stop coming.

The way he said it, he acted like he was doing me a favor, handing out a little kindness, like he wanted me to know he wasn't totally heartless about our history.

I lingered by the window for a bit, then pulled out my phone and shot a text to Stuart Thomson at the Virtue Foundation.

It was a quick text: [Be there on the day of the celebration party. Don't be late.]

When Rachel showed up, she was carrying a bag of takeout and two bottles of red wine. She stood in the doorway, giving me a once-over from head to toe.

"You look great," she said, stepping inside, dropping the bag, and flopping onto the couch with her arms crossed. "Spill it. What are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing," I said, opening the takeout bag and pulling out the plates.

"You got divorced, didn't cry, look totally fine, and now you're living in a place I never even knew you owned?" Rachel's eyes swept around the living room. "Chelsey, when did you get this place?"

"Five years ago," I said.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again, like she was making sure she wasn't dreaming. "So, you had a whole apartment Adam didn't even know about while you were married?"

"It wasn't really a secret. My family gave it to me."

"Your family bought you a whole riverside apartment just for yourself?"

"Yeah."

Rachel let out a sigh, grabbed her fork, picked up a piece of beef, chewed it for a while, then asked, "Come on, what does your family really do, Chelsey? Give it to me straight."

"Import and export," I replied. That was the answer I had been sticking to for ten years.

Rachel fixed me with a sharp look for a long moment, then cracked open the wine and poured me a glass.

"Does Adam even realize what he did wrong?" Rachel asked.

I replied, "Nope. He thinks he scored big."

She raised her glass. "Let him enjoy his little victory for a few more days."

Adam's big celebration party was set for the twenty-third of the month, at the Stellar Hotel, the priciest place in town. They'd sent out nearly two hundred invitations, all to people from the medical world, universities, and the government.

I heard about it from Adam's mom.

Three days after the divorce was finalized, Adam's mother, Tahlia Donnelly, showed up at the place Jacob had rented for me near my parents' neighborhood, not the Sunny Bay Apartment.

I was there that day and opened the door.

As soon as Tahlia stepped inside, she looked the place up and down, then frowned.

Tahlia said, "So this is where your family put you up? It's nothing special."

I invited her in, made her some coffee, and waited for her to say what she came for.

She cradled her cup and started in, slow and steady, about how Adam had it rough growing up. She said if he hadn't been so determined, he'd have spent his whole life stuck out in the sticks.

Now that he had made it, his life was on a whole new track, and some things just couldn't be helped.

When Tahlia finished, she set her cup down and looked right at me. "Chelsey, I know you feel wronged, but you need to see things clearly. Adam's an academician now. His world is way out of your reach.

"I'm telling you, don't cause trouble. Keep your head down and stay quiet. Adam still remembers the good times. He'll make sure you're taken care of."

I said, "Tahlia, I'm not planning to make a scene."

Tahlia visibly relaxed, her expression softening a bit. "That's good. You really shouldn't show up at the celebration party. It'll make things awkward for everyone."

I set the cup back in front of her. "I understand."

Tahlia left with a spring in her step, as if she'd finished something super important.

I stood there for a moment, then sent Jacob a text: [The celebration party is on the 23rd, Stellar Hotel, third floor.]

He texted back: [Got it.]

*****

After that, I laid low for more than ten days. No drama, no demanding answers from Adam, no showing up at his work to confront Mabel.

I kept to myself at Sunny Bay Apartment. I hit up the local old market for groceries, cooked my own meals, and sometimes grabbed coffee with Rachel.

Adam's old buddy, Mike Cooper, hit me up for a private chat at a café. He'd been at the institute two years before Adam, kind of showed him the ropes.

Mike sat down and asked how I was holding up. I said I was fine. He nursed his coffee, circled around for a bit, then finally cut to the chase.