Alexander Vane corners me outside Marlene's Corner on a Thursday afternoon.
I've been avoiding him for days—thanks to Lucas's administrative warfare and Maggie's tearful gatekeeping and Marlene's hostile cake—but he's persistent. He's always been persistent. It's his only genuine quality, and even that is weaponized.
I'm walking back from a meeting at Chen Industries, my mind still half-occupied with quarterly projections and Kevin's latest ficus recovery update (fifty-two percent survival probability now, up from forty), when he steps out from the alley beside the café like a villain in a low-budget thriller.
"Vivian." His voice is warm and practiced, the voice of someone who has rehearsed this moment in front of a mirror. "I've been trying to reach you. Your assistant has been... uncooperative."
"Lucas is protecting me. That's his job."
"I'm not a threat. I'm someone who cares about you. Someone who remembers what we had, even if you don't."
