Chapter 9
He arrived at the penthouse at 8 PM. It was dark. The staff had left.
He walked into the kitchen. The sink was full of dishes. The chef had quit after the ambulance incident.
Adam opened the fridge. Empty, except for a bottle of expensive champagne and a jar of artisanal mustard. No prepared meals. No fresh juice.
He went to the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Macallan. He didn't bother with a glass. He took a swig, the burn grounding him.
He wandered into the living room and sat on the white sofa. He pulled the notebook out of his pocket.
He flipped to a random page.
Page 88: Adam's insecurities.
When he touches his tie knot, he is nervous. Hold his hand.
When he yells, he feels out of control. Speak softly.
He fears being like his father (ignored).
Adam stared at the words. He fears being like his father.
He threw the notebook across the room. It hit the wall with a thud and fell open.
"I am not my father!" he shouted at the empty room.
The front door opened. Karly walked in, carrying a garment bag. She looked annoyed.
"Adam? Why are you sitting in the dark?" She flipped the lights on. "Did you find her? Did you get the key?"
Adam squinted against the light. "No."
"Ugh." Karly dropped her bag. "Well, we have to spin this. Tomorrow at the Summit, we need to announce that she's... sick. Mental exhaustion. That's why the license is pulled. She's unstable."
Adam looked at Karly. He saw the calculation in her eyes.
"She's not unstable," Adam said, his voice slurring slightly. "She's... gone."
"Same thing," Karly waved a hand. "Look, I brought your suit. And I wrote a speech for the press. We need to control the narrative."
Adam stood up. He swayed. "Is that all you care about? The narrative? Josh is in the hospital!"
"Josh is fine," Karly snapped. "I called the nurse. He's sleeping. Adam, focus! If the stock drops another ten points, the board will vote you out. Do you want to lose the company to a... a housewife?"
"She's not a housewife!" Adam roared. He picked up the bottle and smashed it on the floor.
Karly screamed, jumping back. "You're drunk! You're pathetic!"
"Get out," Adam whispered.
"We have a car coming at 8 AM," Karly hissed, stepping over the glass. "Be ready. And shower. You smell like failure."
She stormed out.
Adam stood amidst the shattered glass and the smell of whiskey. He looked at the notebook lying by the wall. He walked over and picked it up. He smoothed the crumpled pages.
He sat there until dawn, reading every line. Reading the story of a man who was loved, and the fool who didn't notice.
The next morning, the Global Science Summit was buzzing. The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was filled with the elite of the scientific and business world.
Adam stood on the red carpet. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, concealed behind dark sunglasses. He wore the suit Karly brought, but it felt loose. He had lost weight in forty-eight hours.
Karly was on his arm, wearing a dress that was too red, too loud. She was smiling for the cameras, gripping Adam's bicep like a vice.
"Smile, Adam," she hissed through her teeth. "The Financial Times is here."
"Mr. Payne! a reporter shouted. "Comment on the rumors of the Daedalus license revocation?"
"No comment," Adam grunted, pushing forward.
"Is it true your wife has left the board?"
"Jessye is... taking a sabbatical," Karly interjected smoothly. "She is focusing on her health."
Suddenly, a hush fell over the red carpet. The photographers stopped clicking. They turned their lenses toward the entrance.
A black limousine with diplomatic plates pulled up. The driver opened the door.
Benedict Quinn stepped out. The crowd gasped. The Monk of Wall Street never attended these events. He looked regal, intimidating.
He turned and extended a hand into the car.
A woman stepped out.
It was Jessye.
But it wasn't the Jessye Adam knew.
She wore the white Tom Ford suit. The jacket was tailored to accentuate her waist, the pants flowing like liquid silk. Her hair was loose, blowing in the wind. She wore no jewelry except for a simple pair of diamond studs.
She looked powerful. She looked radiant.
She took Benedict's hand. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.
The photographers went wild.
"Dr. Haley! Dr. Haley! Over here!"
"Mr. Quinn! Are you funding W.D. Labs?"
Jessye didn't hide behind Benedict. She walked beside him, matching his stride. She looked directly at the cameras. She smiled-a cool, confident smile that Adam had never seen.
Adam stopped dead in the middle of the carpet. Karly tugged his arm. "Adam, move! Who is that?"
"That," Adam whispered, taking off his sunglasses to see clearly. "That is my wife."
"That?" Karly laughed nervously. "That's Jessye? She looks... different."
Jessye and Benedict walked up the carpet. They were heading straight for Adam and Karly.
Adam's heart pounded. He prepared to speak. To beg. To yell.
But Jessye didn't stop. She didn't even slow down.
As she passed him, her eyes met his. For a fraction of a second, he saw it. Not anger. Not hate.
Indifference.
She looked at him the way one looks at a stranger in a crowd. And then she looked away.
Benedict caught Adam's eye. He offered a small, chilling nod.
And then they were gone, swept into the ballroom by a wave of admirers.
Adam stood frozen on the red carpet. He realized then that the "Widowed" status wasn't a computer error. It was a prophecy.
He was standing next to Karly, the woman he thought he wanted, watching the woman he needed conquer the world without him.
"Come on," Karly yanked his arm. "We're losing the spotlight."
"We lost it a long time ago," Adam muttered, and let himself be dragged into the arena.
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