Chapter 10 - THE DIVORCE HE NEVER EXPECTED
The divorce proceedings lasted nearly a year.
There were financial disclosures.
Property negotiations.
Disputes over business interests.
Arguments about the townhouse.
And moments when Celeste wondered whether freedom would ever stop requiring paperwork.
Allison's attorneys initially challenged several of her claims.
Then additional records surfaced.
The townhouse transfer was scrutinized.
Celeste's contributions to the business were documented.
Her independent work was valued.
Eventually, both sides agreed to a negotiated settlement.
On the morning the divorce was finalized, Celeste wore a navy suit.
No diamonds.
No elaborate jewelry.
Just a simple watch her father had given her when she graduated from college.
Naomi stood beside her.
“Ready?”
Celeste nodded.
“Yes.”
Allison arrived alone.
He looked tired.
He had resigned from his leadership position at Harmon Capital.
The firm was restructuring.
Its reputation had suffered.
Several clients had left.
The investigation into the disputed payments continued.
After the hearing, Allison approached Celeste.
“It's done,” he said.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“You look different.”
Celeste smiled faintly.
“I feel different.”
He swallowed.
“Are you happy?”
She considered.
“Not every day.”
He nodded.
“But I'm peaceful.”
His eyes filled.
“I miss you.”
Celeste looked down.
“I know.”
For a moment, she remembered their wedding.
The vows.
The laughter.
The way Allison had looked at her as though she was the only person in the room.
She had loved him.
That had been real.
The betrayal had been real too.
Both truths could exist.
Allison took a breath.
“I hope you find someone who deserves you.”
Celeste smiled sadly.
“I hope you learn to deserve the next person who trusts you.”
He nodded.
Then walked away.
Outside the courthouse, Lydia waited with coffee.
She handed Celeste a cup.
“Well?”
Celeste smiled.
“I'm divorced.”
Lydia raised her cup.
“To freedom.”
Celeste laughed.
“To freedom.”
That evening, Celeste moved into a new apartment overlooking the Hudson.
It was smaller than the townhouse.
The kitchen had old-fashioned cabinets.
The floors creaked.
The windows needed replacing.
She loved it immediately.
She unpacked her books.
Hung photographs.
Placed fresh flowers on the table.
Then sat on the floor with takeout noodles.
For the first time in twelve years, every object in the room belonged to a life she had chosen.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Thomas Mercer.
The trustees approved your proposal. We'd like you to lead the new fundraising program.
Celeste stared.
Then smiled.
She typed:
I'd be honored.
She set down her phone.
Looked around the apartment.
May you like
And whispered:
“Welcome home, Celeste.”
