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My marriage to Sylvia Lind, a strategic alliance between my new money and her old-money family, appeared perfect for five years. But at a Sotheby's auction, Sylvia suddenly outbid me on a vintage Patek Philippe watch I wanted, only to gift it to her new young intern, Caleb, whose resemblance to my younger self unnerved me. Later, she not only defended his audacious presence in my private Mercedes-Maybach but also prioritized his emotional distress over my blatant disrespect, hanging up on me to go "help" him. The trust I thought we' d built evaporated, leaving me cold and contemplating a betrayal I couldn't ignore, yet I couldn't fully grasp why she'd risked everything for this kid. With a profound sense of finality, I picked up my phone and told my lawyer, "Draft the divorce papers."