Chapter 154 Chapter 154

Chapter 154 Chapter 154
Liana’s POV
I told myself I wouldn’t see him again, that once the vote ended, once the dust settled, I’d walk away but the universe doesn’t believe in clean exits.
The café on the corner of Rue Marceau has always been my hideout. A place where no one uses names, only nods. I come here when I need to think or when I don’t want anyone to find me. Except, somehow, he does.
He’s standing by the counter, ordering coffee like he belongs there. A dark coat, collar turned up against the drizzle, hair a little longer than I remember. He looks tired, like someone who’s been living on too much adrenaline and too little sleep.
When the barista hands him his cup, he glances around and his eyes land on me. The jolt is immediate. A pulse, a current. He freezes. Then smiles, just a little. The kind of smile that used to undo me.
“Liana.” He says my name like a secret. I should look away but I don’t.
“Dominic.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “What a coincidence.”
He chuckles softly. “If I told you it was one, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“No,” I admit. “I wouldn’t.”
He walks over, the air between us tightening with each step. When he stops at my table, the space feels too small for both of us  too full of everything we never said.
“May I?”
I hesitate. Then nod. “Suit yourself.” He sits. 
The silence that follows hums like a live wire, for a long moment, we just look at each other. He’s older. Sharper around the edges but his eyes those gray-green eyes still carry the same contradiction. 
“You look different,” he says finally.
“So do you.”
He takes a sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim. “You handled them well. The board.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You mean the firing squad?”
“Semantics.” He smirks faintly. “You were magnificent.”
The compliment lands somewhere between sincerity and provocation. I want to thank him. Instead, I ask, “Why did you do it?”
“Which part?”
“The vote.”
He leans back, studying me. “You earned your seat. I just made sure they didn’t steal it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
I shake my head. “You’re playing a game again. You always are.”
He smiles in a slow and dangerous way“And you always see through it.” The words hang between us, heavy with memory.
I remember what it felt like to love him and to hate him just as fiercely. The nights that burned too hot, the arguments that left scars, the silence that followed.
We’ve both changed since then. But sitting here now, it feels like the years between us collapse into something raw and immediate.
He reaches across the table not touching me, just close enough that I can feel the heat of his hand.
“Liana,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you dragged into this.”
“Too late.”
“I mean it.” His voice lowers. “If Stanley knows what you’ve seen….”
“He knows,” I cut in. “He texted me, at my father’s house.”
Dominic’s expression darkens. “Then you’re not safe.”
I almost laugh. “Safety’s a luxury neither of us ever had.”
Outside, the drizzle has turned to rain. People hurry past the windows, umbrellas blooming like black flowers. Inside, the café feels too still.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Northbridge?” I ask.
He meets my gaze without flinching. “Because I needed access before Stanley knew I was back in the game.”
“So you lied.”
“I protected you.”
“By manipulating my company?”
“By keeping it out of his hands.”
I shake my head. “You never change, do you? You always think control equals protection.”
“And you,” he says softly, “still think truth equals freedom.”
We stare at each other, breath shallow, anger and longing tangled in the same space.
It’s ridiculous how easily he can pull me back, how one look can still undo the armor I’ve spent years building. A flicker of movement outside catches my attention,  man standing beneath an umbrella across the street. Too still. Watching.
The hair on my arms rises. Dominic follows my gaze. His jaw tightens. “Don’t turn your head. Just listen.”
My pulse spikes. “What?”
“He’s here.”
Dominic’s hand brushes mine, a quiet anchor. “We get up, we walk out together.”
I nod, throat tight. “What happens after?”
He smiles, barely. “After? We stop running.”
We stand. Every motion deliberate. Every step toward the door choreographed between fear and defiance.
Outside, the rain hits harder, masking sound, softening edges. I can feel Stanley’s eyes on us, the predator assessing his prey.
Dominic steps slightly closer, his arm brushing mine as he opens his umbrella. The contact is brief but electric. My body remembers his warmth, his steadiness, the way he used to make me feel like I wasn’t built entirely of walls.
We walk down the street together, not speaking. Our reflections blur in the shop windows,  two ghosts resurrected in the wrong story.
When we reach the corner, Dominic leans in, his voice low against my ear. “Smile.”
I force one, brittle but believable. “Good,” he murmurs. “He’ll read it as reconciliation. Not strategy.”
“Strategy for what?”
He looks ahead. “For whatever comes next.”
A car engine hums behind us, I don’t need to look to know Stanley’s inside. Dominic slows, turning his head just enough to catch the reflection in the window. His jaw sets.
“Let him see,” he whispers.
“What?”
He turns fully now, eyes meeting mine. “Let him see what he’s afraid of.” Before I can react, his hand slides to the back of my neck, and he kisses me.
It’s the kind of kiss that remembers everything, the fights, the love, the loss. The kind that feels like both defiance and surrender. For a second, the world disappears there’s only him and us.
He pulls back slowly, his forehead resting against mine. His breath is warm, his voice a whisper.
“He’s watching.”
“I know,” I breathe.
“Good.”
He releases me, his expression shifting back into careful neutrality. “Now walk away.”
I do, not because I want to but because I have to. I walk down the wet street, pulse racing, knowing Stanley is still behind me and that everything has just changed.