Chapter 52
Lena's POV
After ending the call with Rowan, I still felt like his business trip was a little too convenient to be coincidental.
Rowan rarely does last-minute trips. His calendar was mapped out weeks in advance, every meeting scheduled with military precision. Spontaneous business travel wasn't his style.
Unless it wasn't spontaneous.
Unless he'd planned this specifically to avoid tomorrow.
I frowned at the thought. Why would he deliberately delay the termination? Our contract had clear procedures. We'd both known the date for two years. There was no logical reason for avoidance.
Unless he wanted to irritate me.
But that didn't fit either. Rowan was cold, calculating, emotionally remote—but not petty. He didn't play games. If anything, he'd want this over with as much as I did. Clean break, no complications.
So maybe there really was an urgent client matter.
Still, I wanted confirmation.
I pulled up Reynolds Industries' main line and dialed.
"Reynolds Industries, how may I direct your call?"
"Hello, I'm hoping to schedule a meeting with Mr. Reynolds. Could you tell me his availability this week?"
"One moment please." A brief hold, then: "Mr. Reynolds is traveling through Thursday. His first available appointment is Friday afternoon at two. Would you like me to schedule that?"
"No, thank you. I'll follow up later."
I hung up slowly.
So it was true. The trip was in the official system. The receptionist confirmed it. Rowan was genuinely out of town.
I should have felt relieved—at least he wasn't deliberately targeting me. Instead, a strange unease settled in my chest.
Our contract expired tomorrow, and he'd chosen today to leave for three days?
It didn't make sense.
---
Emily met me for lunch at a small Italian bistro near the courthouse. She slid into the booth across from me, already grinning.
"So. Big day tomorrow. How are you feeling?"
"Was supposed to be." I picked up my menu without really looking at it. "Rowan left town."
Her smile faltered. "Left town? As in... today?"
"This morning, apparently. Business trip. Three days."
Emily set her menu down, eyes narrowing. "The day before your contract expires, he suddenly has urgent business for three days?"
"That's what I said."
"Lena." She leaned forward. "That's not coincidence. That's avoidance."
"Maybe. Or maybe he actually has client meetings."
"Come on. You know him better than that." She tilted her head, a mischievous look crossing her face. "What if he's having second thoughts? What if he's realizing he doesn't actually want to let you go?"
I nearly laughed. "Emily, please. He's probably relieved. Now he can finalize things with Nora without me in the picture."
"I don't know..." She tapped her fingers on the table. "Men do stupid things when they're scared. And running away the day before divorce? Classic fear response."
"It's not a divorce. It's a contract termination."
"Semantics." She waved a hand. "The point is, he's avoiding you. Why would he avoid you if he didn't care?"
I took a sip of water, considering. "If he cared, he'd be here. He'd want to talk. Instead, he ran. That tells me everything I need to know."
Emily sighed. "You're probably right. Still, it's weird."
"It is weird," I agreed. "But whatever he's thinking, it doesn't matter anymore. The contract expires. We're done. He can take all the time he needs."
She studied me for a moment. "You seem calm about this."
"I am calm."
"You sure? Because two years is a long time to live with someone, contract or not."
I met her gaze steadily. "I'm sure."
That was a lie, but Emily was kind enough not to call me on it.
She shifted topics abruptly. "Hey, want to know what Alexander was doing?"
"Of course. What about him?"
"He's being pressured into arranged marriage. His mother's on a campaign—three 'suitable candidates' introduced in the past week. He's drowning."
I set down my fork. "That sounds miserable."
"It is. He called me last week practically begging for advice." She paused. "I told him to find someone to fake marry."
Fake marriage? If things with Rowan fell through, Vivian would lose her mind. She'd probably try to marry me off to some business associate to squeeze whatever value she could out of me. It happened all the time in our world.
But what if I beat her to it? What if I found someone who'd actually be useful to me? Alexander needed a wife, and we were just friends. Nothing complicated. The idea clicked into place.
"What if I proposed it to him?"
Emily blinked. "What?"
"A fake marriage. Mutually beneficial arrangement." I kept my voice level, analytical. "He needs to satisfy his family's expectations. I need some support. We could draft a clear agreement—limited term, no financial entanglement, both parties maintain independence."
Emily stared at me. "You're serious."
"Completely. It's practical."
She leaned back, something shifting in her expression—surprise giving way to approval. "You know what? It's actually not a bad idea. Question is whether Alexander would have the guts."
I frowned. "Is marrying me that terrifying?"
Emily just smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Let's just say your ex-husband has a reputation for being... protective of his investments."
"I'm not his investment anymore. After tomorrow, I'm nothing to him."
"Lena." Emily's voice softened. "The contract might end tomorrow. But you really think he's going to just... let you go? Move on like nothing happened?"
I thought about Rowan's face the last time we spoke. The careful blankness. The controlled distance.
"Yes," I said quietly. "I do."
Emily didn't argue. Instead, she raised her water glass. "Then here's to new beginnings. And strategic alliances."
I clinked my glass against hers, but the gesture felt hollow.
---
Back at the office, I tried to focus on work. Diana had sent over three new case files—employment discrimination, wrongful termination, contract dispute. All straightforward. All requiring my full attention.
Instead, I kept checking my phone.
No messages from Rowan.
Not that I expected any. He'd made his position clear by leaving town. This was him drawing a line, maintaining professional distance even in the final days of our arrangement.
I should have appreciated the clarity.
Instead, I felt strangely adrift.
Rachel knocked on the doorframe. "Boss? You okay?"
I looked up. "Fine. Why?"
"You've been staring at that same page for ten minutes."
I glanced down at the contract in front of me. She was right.
"Just thinking," I said.
"About what?"
"Not important."
She hesitated, then said, "Alright. Tell me if you need anything."
I just nodded.
After she left, I sat in the silence of my office, the contract still open in front of me, unread.