yes. He was always evaluating, always weighing. It used t

erstand why you're so upset. It' s just a car. Corbin and I, we have something so much deeper than

. From the streets of Brooklyn. I'm proud of my roots. I don't need fancy cars or man

re he was trapped by... expectations. Things might have been different. He

ered Corbin. A young, ambitious architect, fresh out of Parsons, brimming with talent but lacking the conne

s he spent hunched over blueprints, fueled by stale coffee and a burning desire to prove him

d him to the right people, invested millions. I traded my own burgeoning career in art investment – a skill I inherited from my mother – for nights spent

about how he married up, how he was lucky to have me. I just smiled, holding his hand, bel

e golden leash. He resented the very foundation that lifted him. And now, t

see, Adeline, it's not about who gets the car seat. It's

e her. To expose her hypocrisy, to remind her of every penny she'd benefite

ped protectively around Kallie. He had that worried

into him slightly, a fragile flower seeking shelter.

y were just feeding her narrative. I needed a new strategy. One that

ng," I said, my voice sweet, even. "You misunderstand. I'm not fighting for the c

, the tears momen

"I wonder, Kallie, do you truly know what you're getting yourself into? Or are you just a temp

s face, already pale from the earlier

u implying?" he deman

And this woman, this 'muse' of yours, is merely a project. A very expensive project, I might add. Are you q

to betray, Adeline! Kallie is my friend. My artistic collaborator. You're twisting things."

orbin. I'm done. And as for your 'friend,' she seems to be quite the a

her face paling even further. "Oh, Corbin, I fee

t an arm around her. "Adeline, look what you

lat. "She's not. She under

orbin hissed. "I'm taking Kal

looking at the Pors

s if remembering something. "No, wait. I'll take her to her place. You take a cab. I'll pick you up

eager to please, to impress. He used to hold my hand, his touch sending shivers down my spine. He use

e dismissing my pain as mere "upset." He saw her as a delicate flower, needing his

passenger side of my Porsche. He opened the door for her, helped her

e off, the sleek black car disap

rom the gallery opening, once a vibrant backdrop, now sounded hollow and distant. T

e. It was a charade. And I w

tickets in my purse. Corbin loved classical music. I used to hate it, but I learned to appreciate it for him. I bought these

ght of the small, expensive bouquet of lilies I had arranged to be deli

igh, and took my seat. The seat next to me remained empty. Corbin' s sea

e soaring violins or the booming timpani. All I heard was the echo of Kallie's sobs, Cor

he lilies. There was

through the taxi window on the way home. The driver wa

n's Porsche. It was parked in the driveway. A knot of drea