I watch Dylan process this, see him struggle between his instinct to protect and his promise to be my partner. "You want to meet with him? After everything he's done?"
"I want to face him one more time. Sober. In public. On my terms." I take a breath, gathering courage. "I spent five years letting him define me, then weeks letting fear of him influence my choices. I need to prove to myself that he doesn't have that power anymore."
Dylan's jaw works as he considers this. "You could be walking into a manipulation. He's had time to plan, to prepare whatever sob story to get to you."
"I know. That's why I need you to trust me to handle it."
The request hangs between us, and I see the moment Dylan understands what I'm really asking. Not for protection or rescue, but for faith in my judgment. For the space to fight my own battles while knowing he's there if I need him.
"Will you support me if I do this?" I ask, vulnerable but sure. "Not come with me, but… be there if I need you?"
Dylan searches my face for a long moment, and I see him making the same choice I am: choosing trust over fear, partnership over protection.
"Call Jessica," he says finally. "Have her nearby. Text me before you go in and after you leave. And I'll be on standby, ready to come if you need me." His voice drops, intense and protective despite his restraint. "But Avery, you don't owe him anything. Not closure, not conversation, nothing."
"I know," I say, and I mean it. "But I need to do this anyway."
That evening, I'm curled on my couch with my phone, Jessica on speaker as I explain my plan.
"Are you insane?" she shouts immediately. "Oliver's been stalking you, violating restraining orders, and you want to sit down for coffee with him?"
"In a public place. With you nearby. And Dylan on standby."
There's a pause, and I can practically hear Jessica's mind working through the angles. "Okay. But I'm not just nearby. I'm at the next table. And you're telling Dylan exactly where and when. And if Oliver so much as raises his voice, I'm calling the police."
"Deal."
"And Avery?" Jessica's voice softens. "While I still think this is insane… I'm proud of you. For facing this and letting Dylan help. It’s about time you know you don’t have to do everything alone."
After we hang up, I text Dylan the details. His response is immediate:I don't like this. But I trust you. Be careful. Please.
The "please" gets me, the vulnerability in that single word. This man who commands boardrooms and billion-dollar deals, reduced to asking me to be careful because he cares enough to worry.
I hold my phone against my chest, feeling something I haven't felt in so long I'd almost forgotten it existed:hope. Not the fragile kind that breaks at the first sign of trouble, but something stronger. Something built on partnership and trust.
I think about the board's ultimatum, about the professional price we're both paying for this relationship. Tomorrow I'll face Oliver and finally close that chapter. But then what? How do we fight a board of directors who see me as a liability? How do we navigate a workplace where every success I achieve will be attributed to my relationship with the CEO?
But then I remember the answer. It sounds in my head in Dylan’s voice—
Together.
And I finally start to breathe.
Chapter nine
Avery
Friday afternoon at exactly 1:45 PM finds me sitting in a corner booth at the coffee shop across from Vance Enterprises, my hands wrapped around a cup of tea I haven't touched. The porcelain feels warm against my palms, but my fingers are still cold.
Jessica is at a table near the window, pretending to read a book but really watching me like a hawk. Her presence is a lifeline I didn't know I needed until this morning, when the reality of what I'm about to do hit me like icy water.
My phone sits face-up on the table, Dylan's last message still glowing on the screen. He texted ten minutes ago from his office:I'm here if you need me. Just say the word.A lifeline I hope I won't need, but knowing it's there makes breathing easier.
I arrived early on purpose. I wanted to claim my space and be settled before Oliver walked in, just to feel grounded in my own choices instead of reacting to his. The coffee shop smells like espresso and cinnamon, sounds of the steamer and quiet conversation creating white noise that should be soothing butisn't. My heart beats steady and sure despite the nerves dancing in my stomach.
I'm not the woman I was a few months ago, broken on a bathroom floor. I'm not even the woman from a few days ago, running from Dylan because I was scared. I'm someone new: someone who's learning that closure isn't something someone else gives you. It's something you give yourself.
At exactly 2 PM, Oliver walks through the door.
