Café Ardent was one of those places designed to feel accidental—brick walls, mismatched chairs, soft jazz humming beneath conversation. It was neutral ground, which was why Elara had chosen it.
Caleb was already there.
He stood when he saw her, instinctive, uncalculated. He looked older than she remembered, not in a way that diminished him, but in a way that suggested life had been lived hard and honestly. His hair was slightly longer, his suit less polished than it once had been.
But his eyes—
They still saw too much.
"Elara," he said.
"Caleb."
They didn't hug. Didn't touch at all. Some distances were too familiar to cross casually.
They sat.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Caleb smiled faintly. "You always did enter a room like you expected it to challenge you."
"And you always waited to see if it would," she replied.
His smile deepened, then faded.
"I heard about the board," he said. "About Seraphina."
Elara stirred her coffee she hadn't ordered. "Everyone has."
"They're framing it as voluntary," he added quietly.
Her spoon stopped.
"They would," she said. "Voluntary erasure is cleaner."
Caleb leaned back, studying her. "You're calm."
"I'm focused."
"That's worse," he said. "For them."
She met his gaze. "You said you have resources."
He nodded. "Safe accounts. Independent liquidity. A legal team that doesn't answer to corporate interests."
"And your motive?" she asked.
Caleb didn't deflect this time.
"I walked away when things got dangerous," he said. "I told myself it was self-preservation. The truth is… I was afraid of what loving you would cost."
Elara's expression didn't change, but something beneath it did.
"I don't need apologies," she said. "I need honesty."
"You have it," he replied. "I won't walk away again."
She studied him for a long moment.
"Then understand this," Elara said. "I am not trying to reclaim my title. I am trying to dismantle the lie that took it from me."
Caleb nodded slowly. "Good. Because what they've built is fragile."
He slid a folder across the table.
Inside: transaction summaries. Shell corporations. Voting blocks routed through offshore accounts.
Her name wasn't on any of it.
Seraphina's was—indirectly, but unmistakably.
"This," Caleb said, "is what your father suspected. Coordinated influence masked as independence."
Elara exhaled. "Jonah Vale has similar evidence."
Caleb's eyes sharpened. "You've been in contact with Jonah?"
"Yes."
"That complicates things," Caleb said carefully. "Jonah is brilliant. And radioactive."
"So are lies," Elara replied. "I'm already contaminated."
Caleb watched her with something close to awe. "You've changed."
She smiled faintly. "I've been unburdened."
The waitress approached, interrupting them. Caleb ordered without asking—black coffee, the way she used to take it.
She noticed.
When the waitress left, Elara spoke again. "They froze my assets this morning."
"I know," Caleb said. "I unfroze one."
Her eyes flicked to him. "One?"
"A small one," he said. "Enough to breathe. Not enough to alert them."
Elara nodded. "Good."
Silence fell again, but this time it was different—less guarded.
"Caleb," she said quietly. "If you step into this, you don't get to step out clean."
He met her gaze without hesitation. "Neither do you."
Something passed between them—not forgiveness, not reconciliation.
Alignment.
Outside, the city moved on, unaware that two people who had once loved each other were now standing on the edge of something far more dangerous.
A war.