Chapter 26: Dinner with Friends

Six months had passed, and finally everything seemed to be going as well as she hoped. Ian was doing his duty with Olivia and Lila, he even took them to Calisthenics and things were no longer awkward between them, they were even amicable. Things were finally looking up for Purdey. Her mind, once clouded with worry, now felt lighter with each passing day. Her OnlyFans channel practically ran itself—she had people just cut and trim videos she had sent before to other people to new subscribers. She would post content every now and then to maintain the appearance of activity. It no longer consumed the majority of her nights, freeing her for more evenings like this one.

Purdey stared at the white box that sat on her bed like a silent invitation, its presence almost luminous against her dark burgundy comforter. Inside, wrapped in tissue paper that crumbled between her fingers with a whisper of luxury, lay Rebecca Vallance’s latest creation—a midnight blue cocktail dress with a neckline that curved downward with mathematical precision, revealing just enough to intrigue without crossing invisible boundaries. She ran her fingertips along the exquisite fabric, savouring this moment of anticipation. The material embraced her skin like a cold kiss as she slipped it on, each stitch placed with an architect’s precision, transforming her silhouette in the soft lamplight of her bedroom.

Purdey studied herself in the mirror. Twelve months ago, she wouldn’t have recognized this woman—toned arms, defined collarbones, shoulders squared with quiet assurance. She traced her fingers across the silky material, remembering the procession of sensible, modest suits that had once filled her closet.

She recalled how her colleagues used to nod approvingly at corporate functions, never looking twice.

Fifteen years of marriage had sculpted her into someone she barely recognized now. She’d started by making small concessions—rescheduling her meetings around school pickups, selecting houses in neighbourhoods with prestigious schools, cancelling her weekend hikes to attend Ian’s volunteer dinner events.

What began as partnership became a gradual retreat from her own existence.

“You don’t need to keep working so hard,” Ian had said years ago after his second promotion. “Take some time for yourself.”

Yet “time for herself” transformed into managing the kids’ social calendar, organizing parties and their extracurricular activities. She became the silent curator of their home life—always present yet increasingly invisible.

The children grew in this vacuum of her creation. Olivia, now starting high school, a Math whiz who spoke in equations and logical sequences. Eight-year-old Lila retreated into gaming, her headphones a barrier against family dinners that grew increasingly silent.

This dress was something altogether different. It mapped her waist before opening into a calculated flare, transforming her silhouette into something both sophisticated and slightly lethal.

She turned sideways, noting how the cut elevated her figure without apparent effort.

The mirror reflected more than physical change; her eyes held questions they hadn’t dared ask before. The hunger for complexity. The appetite for risk.

She applied her lipstick—deep burgundy, another departure—and stepped into the matching stilettos that recalibrated her height. Her legs stretched longer now. Deliberate. She crossed her bedroom practicing this new gait, adjusting to the altered perspective, wondering what John would see when he looked at her.

Would recognition flicker in his eyes, a memory of the woman he’d known eighteen years ago, before they’d chosen such different paths?

Purdey checked her phone again. No messages from him. She slid it into her clutch alongside her credit card and house keys. No wedding ring to remove anymore—that had been gone for almost a year now. Even the pale band of skin had surrendered to the sun.

The doorbell announced her car’s arrival.

Melbourne passed outside the tinted windows, a scattered chess game of light and shadow. Purdey checked her phone: one message from Gin (“Running 10 min late”), another from Ravi (“Anticipating our discussion”). Nothing from John. Expected—he cultivated silence like others tended gardens.

By the time her car stopped at Luciana’s entrance, Purdey had mentally calculated her position a dozen times. She had removed the choice they gave her of one or the other but both prizes were already hers to claim—the cultural centre that would cement her firm’s reputation and Ravi’s secretive club that would test her boundaries. She had orchestrated everything perfectly, manoeuvring all the pieces into position. Her hunger wouldn’t settle for half measures. The satisfaction ran deeper knowing that she controlled the game now, not them.

The restaurant hummed with restrained energy. Chandeliers suspended like crystallized rain cast soft light over tables where Melbourne’s power brokers exchanged currencies both financial and personal.

John stood as she approached, his navy suit carved to emphasize his frame. His smile held that same intimate amusement she remembered, as if they shared something wordless.