"He's not looking for a romantic match," she adds. "He's looking for a partner. Someone stable. Discreet. Someone his son trusts. An equal."
She pauses.
"But I got the feeling that he's open to building a romantic relationship as well, but that would be an uphill battle."
The room feels smaller suddenly.
Or maybe it's just me, folding inward, trying to process what she's saying while my brain spins through a hundred different implications at once.
I grip the edge of the chair, grounding myself in something solid.
Of course he'd qualify as clientele. Billionaire. Single father. High exposure.
ERS makes sense for him.
What doesn't make sense in this scenario is me.
"Why would he ask for me?" I ask quietly.
The question slips out before I can stop it.
Evelyn doesn't answer immediately. She's choosing her words carefully, the same way Arthur always did when something mattered.
"He believes you're competent," she says. "And ethical. And not dazzled by money and power."
It doesn't explain the tightness in my chest or the way my pulse is racing like I've just sprinted up a flight of stairs.
"When you worked for him," Evelyn continues, "a relationship with you was not in the cards for Arthur. He thinks too black and white for that. Rules and control are how he has managed since he lost his wife. Crossing professional boundaries isn't something he allows himself to consider."
I nod slowly.
That tracks. Arthur lived by lines he wouldn't cross, rules he wouldn't bend. It was one of the things I respected about him. Even when it frustrated me.
"But now things are changing," Evelyn says. "For both of you."
I think about the resignation. About his reaction when I told him I was leaving. About how steady his voice was when he congratulated me—and how something in his eyes looked unfinished and unsaid.
Like he was fighting his own instincts.
"I don't understand what he's looking for," I admit.
My voice sounds smaller than I want it to.
Evelyn leans back slightly, giving me space to breathe.
"Arthur is practical to a fault," she says. "He sees his life as something that needs to function efficiently. For years, that's been enough. But his son is getting older. Henry needs more than structure and resources. He needs presence."
I remember Henry. The way he lit up when he talked about his game. The way he leaned toward me, unguarded.
"Arthur knows he can't be everything Henry needs," Evelyn continues. “So he’s approaching it the way he approaches everything else. Strategically.”
That sounds like Arthur.
"He asked for you specifically," Evelyn says. "Not because he wants to hire you back. But because you're the only person he's seen Henry interact with in a way that has potential for what Athur believes Henry needs."
I think about how Arthur watched us in the hallway. How he paused in the doorway of his office, expression unreadable. How he didn't interrupt.
"This isn't about convenience," Evelyn adds. "It's about trust."
