The front doors of La Rue opened behind her.
The cold December air rushed into the restaurant.
The candles flickered.
All eyes turned towards you.
Elijah Hartwell stood at the entrance, wearing a black overcoat, his silver hair combed back, one gloved hand resting on a cane he didn’t need.
He was seventy-two years old.
Five-time billionaire.
Hotels.
Ports.
Real estate.
Private equity.
A man who never rushed, because the world had reorganized itself before his arrival.
Two security guards were standing behind him.
Not easy.
Worse.
Invisible until you are needed.
Elijah’s pale blue eyes scanned the room, assessing every detail, then settled on Ava.
His expression changed.
Barely.
But Ava felt the heat.
“Excuse me for being late,” he said.
His voice carried effortlessly.
“Traffic on Madison was hellish.”
Ava almost cracked a smile.
Almost.
Elijah stepped towards her.
The crowd parted although no one remained standing.
That was his gift.
It gave seated people the impression that they had to move.
Ryan’s shock turned to rage. “What is this?”
Elijah stopped near Ava.
He didn’t touch her.
He didn’t need it.
His presence enveloped him like a locked door.
“This,” said Elijah, “is a private dinner that turned out to be more interesting than expected.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Do you know my ex-wife?”
Elijah looked at Ava’s ring.
Then back to Ryan.
“I know Miss Hart very well.”
Bianca’s face changed.
Not jealousy.
Calculation.
Ava could almost see the mathematical calculations taking place behind her eyes.
Billionaire.
Ring.
Ex-wife.
Possible title.
Potential threat.
Possible opportunity.
Ryan saw something else.
He sensed the danger.
“Did you give him the Hartwell Blue?” Ryan asked.
Elie’s lips stretched into a smile. “You recognize him.”
“It’s worth ten million dollars.”
“Even more so since last spring.”
Ryan swallowed.
Ava also enjoyed that.
Second mini-reward.
Ryan had spent three years calling her unrealistic because she cut out discount coupons, after blocking her access to money.
Now he stared at her hand as if it could redeem his entire reputation and there would still be enough left for dessert.
Bianca’s voice was weak. “Is this… an engagement?”
Ava looked at her.
The room tilted inwards.
Elie gave a slight smile.
“It depends,” he said, “on who is asking the question and why that person thinks they deserve an answer.”
A small laugh rippled through the restaurant.
Bianca blushed.
Ryan’s hand tightened into a fist near his towel.
“You’re making a mistake,” he told Elijah.
Elijah raised his eyebrows. “At my age, mistakes require effort. You don’t deserve it.”
The laughter was louder this time.
Not noisy.
Worse.
Control.
Rich people laughing into linen napkins.
Ryan heard it.
Ava saw her ears turn red.
He hated being made fun of more than he hated losing money.
This had always been his weakest joint.
Ava picked up the black folder from the table.
Ryan’s hand moved towards her.
Elijah’s cane struck the ground once.
Ryan stopped.
Ava looked at him. “I left you copies.”
Ryan’s gaze fell upon her. “Copies of what?”
“The wire transfers. The undeclared assets. The falsified appraisal reports. The counterfeit email from my account. The payment trail to Bianca’s apartment. The original operating agreement you told me didn’t exist.”
Ryan’s face turned grey.
Bianca stared at him. “A forged email?”
Ryan didn’t look at her.
Ava noticed it.
Bianca too.
Mini-gain number three.
Ava closed the file against her chest.
“Your lawyer will receive the remainder on Monday morning.”
Ryan leaned closer, his voice low and venomous. “You have no idea what’s coming.”
Ava nodded once.
“I do.”
“Do you think he’ll protect you?” Ryan asked, glancing at Elijah. “Do you think wearing an old man’s ring gives you power?”
Elie’s expression cooled.
But Ava raised a hand.
