Chapter 13 - CHLOE AND BROOKE
Sixteen months later, Chloe ran into Brooke at a hotel-industry luncheon.
Neither planned it.
Brooke looked different.
Not poor.
Not broken.
Just less polished.
She had left luxury brand partnerships and joined a nonprofit housing organization as development manager.
Chloe almost laughed at the symbolism.
Brooke noticed.
“I know.”
“Did Jacob arrange that?”
“No.”
“Dylan?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Then Brooke said:
“I owe you an apology.”
“You already apologized through counsel.”
“I know.”
Chloe waited.
Brooke continued:
“I enjoyed humiliating you.”
There.
Not:
I was in love.
Not:
Dylan lied.
“I wanted you to feel discarded.”
Chloe appreciated the specificity.
“Why?”
“Because if he chose me in front of you, it made me feel like the life I invented had finally beaten the life I came from.”
Chloe nodded slowly.
“That makes sense.”
Brooke looked surprised.
“It doesn’t excuse it.”
“No.”
Then Chloe said:
“I hit Dylan with a tray.”
Brooke almost smiled.
“That was memorable.”
“I’m not proud of it.”
“Really?”
“No.”
The impact was non-serious.
Still violence.
Chloe had apologized to restaurant staff and accepted a citation resolved through a minor diversion process.
No heroic wife exemption.
Then Brooke said:
“We were all performing.”
Chloe thought.
Dylan performed:
powerful husband.
Brooke:
woman from nowhere shameful.
Chloe:
wife too composed to notice.
Jacob:
man who pretended he needed nothing.
Maybe.
Then Chloe said:
“Some performances cost other people more.”
May you like
Brooke nodded.
Fair.
