Chapter 4 - "Take Olivia"
By Friday evening, the reality of his impending financial ruin had clearly softened Adrian’s arrogance into a state of shell-shocked desperation. When I returned to the estate after a grueling week of legal depositions, I found him sitting alone at the kitchen island, a half-empty glass of scotch in front of him, staring blankly at the marble countertop.
He looked ten years older. The confident, swaggering husband who had abandoned me in a hospital parking lot was entirely gone, replaced by a desperate man clutching at the last floating debris of a sinking ship.
"Claire," he murmured, looking up as I dropped my keys into the silver bowl by the foyer. "You're home late."
"I had meetings with the asset division attorneys," I replied neutrally, walking toward the refrigerator to pour a glass of iced water.
Adrian stood up slowly, walking over with hesitant steps. He actually reached out and bought takeout from our favorite downtown bistro—something he hadn't done in over three years. He set the containers out on the island, offering a weak, conciliatory smile.
"I bought Thai," he said softly. "I know it's your favorite. Can we... can we just hit pause for a second? Let's sit down and talk like adults. No lawyers, no corporate audits. Just us."
I took a slow sip of my water, leaning against the counter. "There is nothing left to discuss, Adrian. The divorce papers are filed. My lawyers are handling the asset division of the estate. You keep your personal stock holdings, I keep my trust and my independent investments, and the house goes on the market next Monday."
His face drained of color. "The house? You're selling the house?"
"It's my ancestral property, Adrian. My parents left it to me," I reminded him. "You never had a deed claim to begin with. You're just currently crashing here."
He swallowed hard, panic flickering violently in his eyes. He realized that every single safety net he had ever relied on was actively evaporating beneath his feet. He took a deep breath, trying a different, utterly desperate tactic.
"Okay," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But listen... Ben’s wedding is tomorrow night. Up at the country club. It's a massive networking event for the financial district. Every major investor and board member will be there." He stepped closer, his voice dropping into a pleading whisper. "I told Ben we’d go together. As a couple. If I show up alone—if people see us fractured right now—the rumors about Cole Capital's collapse will turn into a full-scale panic. I need you to play my wife for one night, Claire. Just one night. Walk into that ballroom with me, smile for the cameras, and save my reputation."
I stared at him. Really stared at him. The sheer audacity—the staggering, bottomless narcissism required to demand that I put on a happy face and rescue his public image after everything he had put me through—took my breath away.
I set my glass down on the counter with a quiet, deliberate clink.
"No, Adrian," I said, my voice cutting through the silent kitchen like a razor.
He blinked, stunned. "What do you mean, no? It's one evening! It's for the sake of our mutual future—"
"I am not your wife anymore, Adrian," I interrupted, my eyes locking onto his with absolute, unyielding coldness. "And as for Ben's wedding..." I offered him a slow, radiant smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Take Olivia."
The color drained entirely from his face. He staggered back a step as if I had physically struck him across the face.
"Olivia?" he choked out. "What are you talking about? I can't take Olivia to Ben's wedding! That's a high-society corporate gala! The press will have a field day! Every major investor—my father's old friends—they'll blacklist me overnight!"
"Well, she's the one you left me in the hospital for," I replied evenly, turning around to walk toward the stairs. "She's the one whose career you prioritized over your wife's safety. And according to the gossip blogs, she's the one you spent all those late nights comforting. If you need a fashionable date to keep up appearances, she's right there. Have a wonderful time."
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"Claire! Don't you walk away from me!" Adrian shouted, his voice breaking with sheer terror as he lunged toward the stairs. "You're destroying my life! You're destroying everything I've built!"
"No, Adrian," I called back over my shoulder, not even breaking my stride as I climbed toward the second-floor guest room. "I'm just finally letting you burn down the house you built out of lies."
