Chapter 75
Lena's POV
My phone buzzed at 9 PM. Emily.
"Did you eat today?"
"Protein bar. Coffee."
"Jesus, Lena." I could hear traffic in the background. "I'm coming over."
"I'm still at the office."
"Even worse. I'll bring food."
She showed up forty minutes later with Thai takeout and a bottle of wine she absolutely wasn't supposed to bring into the building. We ate in my office, containers spread across the desk, her in the client chair, me pretending I wasn't exhausted.
"So," Emily said, spearing a piece of chicken. "Rowan Reynolds."
I focused on my pad thai. "What about him?"
"Don't play dumb. That statement was nuclear. He didn't just defend you—he systematically dismantled every allegation, rejected Nora publicly, and basically told the entire business community that anyone who believes anonymous internet posts is an idiot."
"He was protecting his business interests. If my reputation tanks, it reflects badly on companies that worked with me."
"Bullshit."
I looked up. Emily was watching me with that therapist expression that meant she was about to say something I didn't want to hear.
"If this was just business," she said slowly, "he could've released a bland statement. 'Ms. Grant is a competent professional, these allegations are baseless, we wish her well.' Done. Instead, he wrote a point-by-point rebuttal, disclosed details about your marriage arrangement that most people keep private, and made it crystal clear that he never had a romantic relationship with Nora Kane." She paused. "That's not damage control, Lena. That's a man making a statement."
"About what?"
"About who he's willing to go to war for."
I set down my fork. "We're divorced."
"I know."
"The marriage was a contract. It's over."
"I know that too." Emily leaned back. "But he doesn't seem to."
"That's not my problem."
"Isn't it?" She swirled her wine. "Look, I'm not saying you should take him back. God knows he doesn't deserve it after the way he treated you. But maybe... don't close every door quite yet."
"There's nothing to close. We're done."
"Are you?" She met my eyes. "Because from where I'm sitting, a man who ignored his wife for two years just risked his reputation and company standing to protect her. That's not nothing."
My chest felt tight. "It's guilt. Or strategy. Or both."
"Maybe. Or maybe he finally pulled his head out of his ass and realized what he lost."
"Two years too late."
"Yeah," Emily said softly. "It is. But people don't stop mattering just because the timing was wrong."
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
She finished her wine. "Just... keep your options open. That's all I'm saying."
---
After she left, I sat alone in my office, the city lights blinking through the window.
Rowan's statement was still open on my laptop. I'd read it a dozen times. Each time, certain phrases jumped out:
She conducted herself with complete integrity and professionalism.
One of the most capable and ethical attorneys I have worked with.
Anyone questioning her integrity is making a serious error in judgment.
Not "my ex-wife." Not "a business associate."
He'd defended me like—
Like what? Like I still mattered? Like the marriage had been more than a contract?
My phone lit up. Text from Jack Harrison: Mr. Reynolds asked me to let you know our legal team is available if you need support for any further action. No strings attached.
I stared at the message.
No strings attached.
Right.
I typed back: Thank you. I'll handle it from here.
Then I closed the laptop, grabbed my coat, and left before I could read Rowan's statement one more time.
Before I could let myself wonder if Emily was right.
Before I could forget that two years of coldness and indifference didn't get erased by one public statement, no matter how perfectly worded.
But as I walked to my car, I couldn't stop hearing Emily's voice:
People don't stop mattering just because the timing was wrong.
I gripped my keys tighter and drove home.
Tomorrow, Sterling PR would issue their retraction. I'd secure more clients. The firm would grow.
And Rowan Reynolds would stay exactly where I'd left him three weeks ago.
In the past.
Where he belonged.