The café was the kind of place where silence cost extra.
Elara arrived at two PM sharp, as requested by Liam's assistant. Not Liam himself—his assistant, with her clipped professional tone and carefully worded email: Mr. Vance requests a meeting to discuss co-parenting logistics. Neutral location. Two PM.
Like she was scheduling a merger.
The café was upscale—exposed brick, Edison bulbs, the kind of artisan coffee that came with a story about bean origins. A place where business people met to discuss things they wanted to appear casual but absolutely weren't.
Liam sat at a corner table, facing the door. Always tactical. Always controlling the room.
He stood when she approached. The gesture surprised her—he'd never done that before, back when she was his wife. Back when she'd been an accessory he'd forgotten to acknowledge.
"Elara. Thank you for coming."
She didn't sit. "You have thirty minutes. I told Leo I'd be home for dinner."
"Of course." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Please."
She sat, positioning her bag between them like a barrier. He noticed. She could tell by the way his eyes tracked the movement, filing it away.
A waiter appeared immediately—Liam had that effect, the gravitational pull of money—and Elara ordered tea she didn't want just to have something to do with her hands.
"You said this was about logistics," she said once the waiter left.
"It is."
"Then talk."
Liam leaned back in his chair, the picture of controlled ease. Expensive suit. Perfect hair. Grey eyes assessing her like she was a contract to negotiate.
Except for his hands. His hands were flat on the table, fingers spread slightly. Tension bleeding through the cracks.
"I've been thinking about Leo's schedule," he began.
"The contract specifies—"
"I'm not challenging the contract. I'm proposing an addition."
Elara's guard went up. "What kind of addition?"
"My company hosts an annual charity gala. It's in two weeks. High-profile event—investors, board members, media coverage. It raises significant funds for children's education initiatives."
"And?"
"And I'd like Leo to attend. With you."
The words landed wrong. Too casual for what he was actually asking.
"Absolutely not."
"Hear me out—"
"No. Leo's not a prop for your PR campaign."
Liam's jaw tightened. "That's not what this is."
"Then what is it?"
He hesitated. The calculated CEO mask slipped just slightly, revealing something raw underneath.
"It's about optics," he said carefully. "The board is... concerned. About the scandal. About my personal life affecting the company. Having Leo there, with you—his mother—presents a stable, united front. Family values. It's good for business."
Elara laughed. Actually laughed. "You want me to play the devoted co-parent for your shareholders?"
"I want Leo to see where I work. What I've built. I want—" He stopped. Recalibrated. "The gala funds children's programs. Art education. Music. Things that matter. Leo seeing that, being part of that, it's not exploitation. It's exposure to philanthropy."
"Wrapped in a press opportunity."
"Yes."
At least he was honest.
"Why should I care about your board's concerns?" Elara asked.
"Because whether you like it or not, I'm Leo's father. And my reputation affects him. If my company suffers, his inheritance suffers. His future suffers."
"He doesn't need your money."
"No. But he deserves it."
The waiter returned with her tea. Elara wrapped her hands around the cup, buying time. This was a trap. It had to be. Liam Vance didn't make requests without twelve contingencies and a hidden agenda.
"What's the real reason?" she asked.
His eyes met hers. Held.
"I want you there."
The honesty was a shock.
"Not Leo. You."
"Liam—"
"I know. I have no right. The contract is clear. But I'm asking anyway." He leaned forward, and the air between them shifted. Charged. Dangerous. "One night. In the world we used to share. Let me show you what I've built. Let Leo see it. And—"
"And what?"
"And let me have one evening where we're not enemies."
The vulnerability in his voice was a weapon. Elara hated that it affected her. Hated that part of her—the part that remembered white lilies and first dates—wanted to say yes.
"I won't come alone."
"I'm not asking you to."
"I'll bring Xander."
The name landed like a grenade.
Liam's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind his eyes. Rage. Jealousy. Carefully, carefully controlled.
"Of course. Bring Reed."
The way he said it—flat, emotionless—told her exactly how much he hated the idea.
Good.
"You know who he is," Elara said. Not a question.
"I know he's Alexander Reed. Son of Marcus Reed, CEO of Reed Holdings. My company's primary competitor. I know he's your business partner. I know—" He stopped.
"What? What else do you know?"
"I know he's in love with you."
The words hung between them.
Elara's pulse kicked. "That's none of your business."
"Everything about you is my business."
"Not according to Clause Three of the contract."
"The contract says I can't interfere with your personal life. It doesn't say I can't observe it." His gaze pinned her. "Do you love him?"
"Liam—"
"Do you?"
She should lie. Should tell him yes, that she and Xander were perfectly happy, that she'd moved on completely.
Instead: "That's not what this conversation is about."
"Isn't it?" He leaned back, and a cold smile touched his mouth. "Bring him. Let him see the world you left. Let him see you in it. Let him see where you belonged before you ran."
The challenge was clear. The manipulation was masterful.
He was betting she'd want to prove something. That she'd want to show him—and herself—that she didn't belong in his world anymore. That she'd evolved beyond the girl who'd served him coffee and fallen for his intensity.
And damn him, he was right.
"This is about business?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And Leo?"
"Will be treated with complete respect. He'll have a security detail. He can leave at any time. You have full control."
"And Xander?"
Liam's smile sharpened. "Reed is welcome. As your guest. Your plus-one. Whatever you want to call him."
The air between them crackled with everything unsaid.
This was insane. She should refuse. Should walk out right now, contract in hand, boundaries intact.
But another part of her—the part that had been twenty-one and fearless before Liam Vance broke her—wanted to walk back into that world in a designer dress with Xander on her arm and show Liam exactly what he'd lost.
"One night," she said.
"One night."
"Leo leaves when I say."
"Agreed."
"And you introduce me properly. Not as 'Leo's mother.' As Elara Hart, owner of Haven Gallery."
Something flashed across his face. Surprise. Respect.
"Agreed."
"And Xander is my date. Not my 'guest.' My date."
The word landed like she'd intended—a small, vicious cut.
Liam's expression went very still. "Of course."
They stared at each other across the table, two people who'd once promised forever now negotiating terms like opposing counsel.
"Email me the details," Elara said, standing. "I'll need dress code information. Security clearance for Xander. A car service—I'm not arriving in a taxi."
"Already arranged."
"Of course it is."
She turned to leave. Made it three steps.
"Elara."
She stopped. Didn't turn around.
"Thank you."
The gratitude in his voice nearly undid her.
"Don't thank me. This is for Leo. Not for you."
"I know."
She walked out before he could say anything else. Before she could make the mistake of looking back.
Outside, the afternoon sun was too bright. Elara stood on the sidewalk, heart hammering, trying to process what she'd just agreed to.
She'd said yes.
She'd actually said yes.
To walking back into Liam's world. To bringing Leo into it. To parading Xander in front of the man who'd once owned her heart and shattered it.
What was she thinking?
Her phone buzzed. Text from Xander: How'd the meeting go?
She stared at the message. How was she supposed to tell him? That she'd agreed to attend Liam's gala? That she'd volunteered Xander as her date without asking him first?
That she'd done it partly to prove something, partly out of pride, and partly because when Liam had looked at her with those grey eyes and asked, she hadn't been able to say no.
She typed: Fine. Tell you at dinner.
Then she walked to her car, climbed in, and sat in the driver's seat with her hands on the wheel.
Through the café window, she could see Liam. Still at the table. Staring at his phone.
He looked up.
Their eyes met through the glass.
For three seconds. Four.
Neither looked away.
Then Elara started the engine and drove.
Inside the café, Liam watched her car disappear into traffic.
She'd said yes.
He'd expected refusal. Expected a fight. Expected her to throw the offer back in his face.
She'd said yes.
And she'd weaponized Xander Reed against him with surgical precision.
His phone buzzed. Text from his assistant: Board meeting in 20. Beijing merger needs approval.
He ignored it.
Instead, he opened his contacts. Found the name he needed.
David. I need a full background check on Alexander Reed. Everything. Personal, professional, financial. Relationships. Weaknesses. I want to know everything about him by tomorrow.
He hesitated, then added: And I need a designer. Female. Discreet. She needs to coordinate with Elara Hart for the gala. Make sure whatever she wears is perfect. Spare no expense.
Another hesitation.
And find out what Reed will be wearing. I want to know.
He sent the messages.
Sat back.
Elara was coming to his gala. In his world. With Leo.
And with Alexander Reed.
The man who'd been there for five years. Who knew Leo's favorite dinosaur. Who made Elara smile. Who'd earned a place in her life that Liam had thrown away.
The jealousy was acid in his throat.
But underneath it: strategy.
Two weeks. He had two weeks to prepare. To orchestrate. To remind Elara of everything they'd been.
And to show her—and Reed—exactly why she'd fallen for him in the first place.
Game on.