Chapter 4

Celeste was drinking from my anniversary glass when I entered my kitchen.

She stood barefoot beside the marble island, speaking to an interior designer on her tablet. Fabric samples covered the counter where Adrian and I used to eat breakfast. On the screen, a photograph of my kitchen had been marked with notes in Celeste’s handwriting.

REMOVE DARK CABINETS. WARMER COLORS. LESS SEVERE.

She ended the call without looking embarrassed. “Adrian said you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow.”

“Adrian doesn’t know my schedule anymore.” I set an empty suitcase on the floor. “Why do you have a key?”

Late-afternoon light lay across the marble, and Celeste stood barefoot in its warmth while I remained by the door with one hand on the empty suitcase.

Celeste placed the glass down carefully. “He didn’t want to be alone after what you did at the gala.”

What I had done. The phrase almost made me laugh.

I walked past her toward the bedroom. My passport, personal jewelry, clothes, and the files from my bedside drawer went into the suitcase. I left the framed photographs, the monogrammed towels, and the silver dress from Saturday on its hanger. They belonged to a version of my life I could not pack.

Behind me, Celeste followed as far as the doorway.

“You’re making permanent decisions while you’re hurt,” she said.

“You’re measuring another woman’s kitchen before she has moved out.”

Color rose beneath her makeup. “I’m helping Adrian.”

The front door opened before I could answer. Adrian crossed the bedroom in three hard strides, his tie loose and the divorce envelope crushed in one hand.

“You stopped the expansion vote,” he said.

“I asked for a review.”

“You embarrassed Celeste in front of the board.”

Celeste remained behind him, framed by the doorway of my bedroom as if they had rehearsed the picture.

“Did you give her a key?” I asked.

Adrian did not hesitate. “Yes. She was worried about me.”

Something inside me went quiet. Not healed. Finished.

I zipped the suitcase and wheeled it toward the hall. Adrian caught the handle.

“Stop turning this into a war,” he said. “Come back to the meeting tomorrow, restore the vote, and we can fix this before anyone else knows.”

“Everyone who matters already knows. You chose her.”

“I chose the company.”

I looked at Celeste’s fabric samples, my glass on the counter, and his hand gripping the suitcase as though even my departure required his approval.

“Then let the company take care of you.”

I pulled the suitcase free. At the front door, I removed my key from its ring and set it beside Celeste’s samples.

Adrian stared at it. “You’ll come back for the rest.”

I thought of the locked cabinet containing my father’s wooden box. I would return when Adrian could not turn the visit into another negotiation.

“For my belongings,” I said. “Not for you.”

His phone rang as the elevator doors opened. He answered without taking his eyes off me.

The finance director’s voice carried through the quiet foyer. “Adrian, the Carter transfer didn’t arrive. We’ve just been told the fifty-million-dollar tranche has been suspended.”

For the first time, Adrian looked frightened.

I stepped into the elevator and declined his incoming call before the doors met.

I had not only left his home.

I had stopped paying for his empire.