Elara woke to seventeen missed calls.
She'd silenced her phone after fleeing the gala last night. Had driven home with Leo half-asleep in the backseat, Xander following in his own car. They'd exchanged exactly three words at her door: "We'll talk tomorrow."
Tomorrow was now.
She reached for her phone. 6:47 AM. Notifications flooded the screen:
Sophie (Best Friend):OMG CALL MESophie:ELARA. PHONE. NOW.Unknown Number:Ms. Hart, this is Rachel Chen from Vanity Fair. Would love to comment on—Xander:Don't look at the news. I'm coming over.Gallery Assistant:Boss, we have a situation
Her stomach dropped.
She opened her browser. Typed her name.
The first image loaded.
Oh God.
REUNITED? Vance and His 'Runaway Wife' Spark Reunion Frenzy at Charity Gala
The photo was everywhere. Every gossip site. Every society page. Every social media platform.
Elara and Liam. Mid-dance. His hand on her back, possessive. Her body arched toward his—she hadn't realized, hadn't felt herself leaning in, but the camera captured it perfectly. Their faces inches apart. His eyes on hers with raw intensity. Her expression—
She looked like a woman in love.
No. Worse.
She looked like a woman drowning and clinging to the only solid thing in reach.
The caption beneath varied by outlet:
"Billionaire Liam Vance and ex-wife Elara Hart rekindle flame at annual gala"
"Love Rekindled? The chemistry is UNDENIABLE"
"Vance's Secret Son Watched as Parents Danced Like No Time Had Passed"
"Alexander Reed, son of rival CEO Marcus Reed, looked on as his date melted into her ex-husband's arms"
That last one came with a second photo. Xander at the edge of the dance floor. Watching. His face carefully neutral but his hands clenched at his sides.
Elara's phone rang. Sophie.
She answered.
"Tell me," Sophie said without preamble, "that you did not fall back into bed with that man last night."
"I didn't—"
"Because, El, that photo looks like foreplay."
"We were dancing. One dance. For optics."
"Optics? OPTICS?" Sophie's voice pitched higher. "You're looking at him like he's oxygen and you've been underwater for five years!"
"I'm not—"
"And where's Xander? Please tell me Xander is okay."
Elara closed her eyes. "He's... processing."
"Oh God. You broke his heart."
"I didn't break anything. I just—" What? Danced with her ex-husband? Felt her body betray her? Nearly let Liam kiss her on a terrace while the man who actually loved her watched? "It's complicated."
"It's a disaster. Have you seen the comments?"
"No."
"Don't. Half the internet thinks you're a gold digger who came crawling back. The other half is planning your wedding registry. There's already a hashtag: #VanceReunion."
Elara's stomach churned. "I need to go."
"El—"
She hung up. Stared at the photo.
Her body remembered that moment. The heat. The pull. The way the world had narrowed to just Liam's hands and his voice and the terrible, undeniable fact that her body still knew his.
A sound from Leo's room. He was awake.
She shoved her phone under a pillow and went to him.
By eight AM, they were at the gallery.
Elara needed normal. Needed routine. Needed something to do with her hands other than refreshing news sites and watching her life become tabloid fodder.
Leo sat at the reception desk with his coloring books while Elara tried to focus on inventory. Failed. Tried to answer emails. Failed. Tried not to think about Liam's fingers trailing down her arm.
Failed spectacularly.
The gallery door opened. Xander.
He looked like he hadn't slept. Still wore last night's shirt, wrinkled now. His eyes found hers.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hey."
Leo looked up. "Uncle Xan! Did you see the fancy party photos?"
Xander went very still. "What photos, buddy?"
"On the tablet!" Leo grabbed the gallery's display tablet from the desk—the one they used to show clients digital portfolios. He'd been playing games on it this morning.
He held it up.
The photo. That photo. Elara and Liam, locked in their dance, the world falling away around them.
"You and Liam look fancy," Leo said, pointing at the screen. "Like a princess and a prince!"
Elara's heart stopped.
Xander's face did something complicated. Pain. Resignation. Acceptance of something he'd been dreading.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "They do, don't they?"
"Can I see more pictures?"
"Leo, put the tablet down," Elara managed. "Now."
Something in her tone made him obey immediately. He set it down, confused by her reaction.
"Did I do something bad?"
"No, baby. No. I just—" She knelt beside him. "Those photos are private. Grown-up stuff."
"But you're on the internet. That's not private."
Out of the mouths of children.
Xander moved to the tablet. Scrolled. His jaw tightened with each new image. The dance. The terrace. One photographer had caught them on the terrace—Liam leaning close, Elara's face tilted up, the moment before Xander had interrupted.
It looked intimate. Romantic. Inevitable.
"El." Xander's voice was rough. "We need to talk."
"I know."
"Leo, buddy, can you go play in the back room for a few minutes? The one with all the art supplies?"
Leo looked between them, sensing adult tension. "Okay."
He scampered off, leaving them alone in the gallery's main space.
Silence stretched. Heavy. Suffocating.
"I'm sorry," Elara said finally.
"For what? Dancing with your ex-husband? That was the plan. We knew he'd pull something."
"For—" She gestured helplessly at the tablet. "For that. For looking like—"
"Like you're still in love with him?"
The words hung between them.
"I'm not—"
"Elara." Xander's smile was sad. Broken. "I've been in love with you for three years. I know what it looks like. And last night, dancing with him, you looked the way I've always wanted you to look at me."
"Xander—"
"I'm not angry. I'm not even surprised." He ran a hand through his hair. "I knew. When you agreed to go to that gala, I knew. When you spent an hour deciding between dresses, I knew. When you walked onto that dance floor and I saw your face—I knew."
"Nothing happened."
"Didn't it?" He turned the tablet toward her. "Because this looks like everything happened. Maybe not physically. But emotionally? El, you left me the moment you put your hand in his."
Tears burned her eyes. "That's not fair."
"No. What's not fair is watching the woman I love realize she never stopped loving someone else."
"I don't love him."
"Then what do you call this?" He gestured at the screen. "Because from where I'm standing, that's a woman who's been in denial for five years. And last night, reality caught up."
She wanted to argue. Wanted to insist he was wrong. But the photo was damning evidence.
"I don't know what I feel," she admitted.
"Yes, you do. You're just afraid to say it."
"He destroyed me, Xander. He called me a pet. He was going to divorce me. He—"
"Five years ago. And now? Now he's attending parenting classes. Showing up for supervised visits. Looking at you like you're the only person in the room." Xander's voice gentled. "Now he's the man you fell in love with. Or trying to be. And that terrifies you."
"Because it might not be real. It might be manipulation. It might be—"
"Or it might be real. And you might have to choose between the safe man who's been here for five years and the dangerous man you never stopped wanting."
The truth of it hit like a physical blow.
"I'm not asking you to choose," Xander continued. "I'm telling you that I already know the answer. I've known since he walked back into your life. I just—" His voice cracked. "I hoped I was wrong."
"Xander, I care about you—"
"Don't." He held up a hand. "Don't tell me you care. Don't tell me I'm important. I know I am. But I'm not him. And I never will be."
Tears spilled over. "I'm sorry."
"Me too." He moved toward the door. Stopped. Looked back. "For what it's worth? I think you should figure out what you actually want before someone gets hurt worse than they already are. Leo deserves parents who are honest about what they feel. Even if what they feel is complicated."
He left.
The door chimed. Silence rushed in.
Elara stood alone in her gallery, surrounded by art she'd curated and a life she'd built, staring at a photo that told a truth she'd been denying.
She looked like a woman in love.
With the wrong man.
Or maybe the right one.
She didn't know anymore.
Her phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number:
We need to talk. Not about Leo. About us. Tonight. I'll send a car. —L
She stared at the message.
Should delete it. Should block him. Should reinforce every boundary he'd demolished last night.
Instead, she typed: Fine. 8 PM. But we talk at the gallery. Neutral ground.
His response was immediate: Agreed.
She set down the phone.
Leo appeared from the back room, holding a drawing. "Mom, I made you a picture!"
Three stick figures. One small, one tall with dark hair, one with blonde hair.
All holding hands.
Her heart cracked.
"It's beautiful, baby."
"It's our family! You, me, Liam, and Uncle Xan!"
Four people. Leo's innocent vision of a world where everyone he loved could exist in the same space without pain.
If only it were that simple.
"Let's put it on the fridge," she said, taking the drawing.
But as she pinned it up, her eyes drifted back to the tablet.
To the photo that had gone viral.
To the evidence of a truth she could no longer deny:
She'd never truly left Liam Vance.
She'd just been running from him.
And last night, he'd caught her.
Across town, Liam sat in his office, staring at the same photo on his screen.
His PR team was in crisis mode. The board was demanding a statement. His lawyers were drafting responses to media inquiries.
He ignored all of it.
Because the photo told him everything he needed to know.
She'd melted. Actually melted. Her body curved toward his like a flower to sun. Her eyes on his with that mixture of want and fear that meant she felt it too.
The pull. The connection. The thing that five years and pain and Alexander Reed couldn't kill.
David appeared in the doorway. "Sir? The board wants—"
"I don't care."
"They're concerned about the optics—"
"The optics are perfect." Liam gestured at the screen. "Look at that photo and tell me it looks bad for me."
David looked. "It looks like... reconciliation."
"Exactly."
"But Ms. Hart—"
"Agreed to meet me tonight." Liam stood. "Alone. To talk. Not about Leo. About us."
"Sir, is that wise? After last night, she's probably—"
"Running. Scared. Confused." Liam smiled. "Which means she's close to breaking. Close to admitting what she felt last night. What she's been feeling since I walked back into her life."
"And if she doesn't break?"
"She will." He buttoned his jacket. "I've spent five years learning to be patient. Learning to be the man she needed instead of the man I was. Last night proved it's working."
He looked at the photo again.
At Elara in his arms, her body betraying every wall she'd built.
"She's mine," he said quietly. "She's always been mine. She just needed to remember."
Tonight, he'd make sure she couldn't forget again.