Page 98 of Falling for Mr. Ruthless

"Like what?"

I hesitate. The full truth feels too intimate to share—even with her. Something sacred in its terrible beauty.

"He was trying to protect me. From Megan, from business complications. He thought leaving was the only way to keep me safe."

She scoffs, the sound bright with disbelief. "And you believe that? After four years, he suddenly has a convenient explanation for abandoning you and Jaden?"

"It's not—" I stop, weighing my words. "It's not that simple."

"It's manipulation, Chanel." She reaches across the counter, fingers brushing mine in a gesture of solidarity that suddenly feels like restraint. "He hurt you. Destroyed your marriage. Left you to rebuild alone. And now he wants back in, so he's crafting a story to make himself the hero."

Her assessment mirrors the doubts circling in my own mind—the fear that I'm being played again, that vulnerability is just another form of victimhood. But beneath those fears stirs something new. Something unexpected.

"The man I worked with these past weeks isn't the man I married," I say, the admission surprising even me. "Or maybe he is, and I'm only now seeing parts of him I missed before."

"What do you mean?" Something in Latanya's voice shifts—a note of tension beneath the question.

"He's more... collaborative now. Less controlling." I search for words to describe the subtle transformation I've witnessed. "When we presented to the board together, he didn't try to speak for me or manage me. He stood with me, not in front of me. He trusted my expertise even when it contradicted his instincts."

Latanya's expression tightens imperceptibly. "People don't change that fundamentally, Chanel. Not men like him."

"Don't they?" I push my plate away, appetite vanishing. "We have. Both of us."

Silence stretches between us, weighted with years of shared history—her unwavering support through my darkest days, the complicated truth that even now, even knowing everything, something in me still gravitates toward Jakob like a compass finding north.

"I just worry about you," she says finally, voice gentler. "I saw what losing him did to you the first time. I don't want to watch you go through that again."

"I know." I offer a small smile, grateful for her concern even as I register the subtle pressure behind it. "That's why I walked away."

She studies me, head tilted slightly. "But part of you doesn't want to stay away, does it? What, you still love him or something?" Her laugh holds an edge. "You can't possibly?—"

The words stick in my throat, refusing to form the denial she expects. The lie I've told myself for years.

"I don't think I ever stopped," I say quietly.

Latanya goes perfectly still. For a heartbeat, her smile freezes, a perfect mask suddenly ill-fitted to her face. Something cold flickers behind her eyes—a shadow passing across the sun. Then it softens into sympathy so convincing I almost don't notice her knuckles whitening around her glass.

"Oh, Chanel." She shakes her head, compassion and disappointment mingled in her tone. "Love isn't always enough, you know that."

"I know." I gather our plates, needing movement, needing to do something with hands that suddenly want to claw at my own skin. "That's why I left. That's why it's over."

She watches me, silent for a moment too long. I'm too caught in my own confession to notice the calculation in her gaze, the subtle tightening of her fingers, the way her breathing has changed rhythm.

"So what now?" she asks finally.

I exhale slowly, pushing back the ache threatening to consume my carefully maintained composure. "Now I focus on what matters. Jaden. The audit. Moving forward."

"Healthy choices," she approves, but something in her tone rings hollow. "Speaking of Jaden, do you need me to pick him up tomorrow? I know you usually have your weekly planning session then."

The offer lands like salvation—a simple kindness, a practical solution, a way forward. "Actually, yes. Could you take him to karate at four? I need to..." I hesitate, the decision crystallizing even as I speak it. "I need to talk to Jakob. In person."

"Oh?" Her voice lifts in question. "I thought it was over."

"It is." The justification sounds thin even to my own ears. "But there are loose ends. Things we need to finalize about the audit. About Jaden's schedule."

Latanya nods slowly, something unreadable passing behind her eyes. "Of course. I can take him right from school to karate. No trouble at all."

"Thank you." Relief washes through me—for the practical support, for the lack of further questioning, for the space to address what remains unresolved between Jakob and me.