Chapter 17 Six months into their New York life, Addie found herself in a world she barely recognized.[] Gone were the cozy flat-sharing dinners and lazy Sunday mornings. Their new penthouse in Tribeca was sleek, expensive, and somehow always cold despite the designer heating system.[] Tristan-who now went by his full name, Tristan Kelce, in all professional settings-worked fourteen-hour days and came home speaking a language of mergers, acquisitions, and market dominance that felt foreign to her ears.] "You should come to the Meridian Group party tomorrow night," he said one evening, not looking up from his laptop. " It's important I'm seen with the right people."]]. "Seen with the right people?" Addie repeated from the kitchen, where she was making dinner for one again. "What am I , an accessory?" "Don't be dramatic." His tone was dismissive in a way that reminded her uncomfortably of someone else. "You know what I mean. These connections matter. This is how business works in America."[] She set down her wine glass harder than necessary. "Since when do you care about being 'seen' with anyone? You used to say authenticity mattered more than networking."]] Tristan finally looked up, his expression impatient. "Since I realized that idealism doesn't pay for penthouses, Addie. I'm trying to build something here. For us."] "I never asked for a penthouse."]] "No, but you didn't exactly object when I got it, did you?"[] The accusation stung because it held a grain of truth. She had been seduced by the luxury, by the way people treated them differently when they had money and status.[] That night, she lay awake listening to Tristan's even breathing and wondering when exactly her protector had started speaking to her like she was naive.