The coffee tastes like ash in my mouth when I see her walk through the door. Ten years. Ten goddamn years, and Lily Chen still moves like she owns every room she enters. Same confident stride, same way of tucking her hair behind her left ear when she's nervous—which she's doing right now as her eyes scan the café. Looking for me. I should've picked somewhere else for this meeting. Somewhere sterile and corporate, not the same coffee shop where we used to share mochas and dreams after school. But maybe I wanted her to remember. Maybe I wanted the nostalgia to cut both ways. Her gaze finds mine, and I watch the recognition flash across her face. Shock. Relief. Something that might be longing, if I were stupid enough to believe it. I'm not that boy anymore. "Ethan." My name sounds breathless when she says it, stopping at my table. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me." I don't stand. Don't smile. Just gesture to the empty chair across from me with the same hand that's wearing a watch worth more than her parents' mortgage payment. I know exactly how much their mortgage is. I own it now. "You said it was urgent." My voice comes out cold, professional. "I have twenty minutes before my next meeting." A lie. I cleared my entire afternoon for this. But she doesn't need to know that. She sits, and up close, I can see the changes. Faint lines around her eyes that weren't there before. A hardness in her expression that the old Lily never had. The girl who laughed like wind chimes has been replaced by a woman who looks like she's forgotten how. Good. "I'll get straight to the point," she says, folding her hands on the table. Her wedding ring is gone, I notice. "I know Chen Industries has been struggling. I know you've acquired most of our debt. My father... he's sick, Ethan. The stress is killing him." "I'm aware." I take a slow sip of my coffee, watching her over the rim. "I sent flowers to the hospital." Her eyes widen slightly. She didn't know that. Probably because I sent them anonymously. Old habits. "Then you know we're desperate." She leans forward, and I catch a whiff of her perfume. Different from what she used to wear. She used to smell like jasmine. This is something expensive, sophisticated. Something Marcus probably bought her. "I'm here to ask—to beg if I have to—for more time. Better terms. Anything." "Begging." I let the word hang between us. "That's new for you." A flash of pain crosses her face, but she doesn't look away. "I deserve that." "You deserve a lot more than that." The words come out sharper than I intended, and I see her flinch. Part of me—the part that's still that seventeen-year-old kid who would've given her anything—wants to take it back. The rest of me, the part that spent years building an empire on the ashes of his broken heart, wants to twist the knife deeper. "I know you hate me," she says quietly. "I know what I did was unforgivable. But this isn't about us, Ethan. This is about my family. My father built that company from nothing—" "I know what your father built." I cut her off. "I also know what it's worth. Which is currently less than the debt it's carrying." "Then why did you buy the debt? Why do you care about a failing electronics manufacturer?" Why indeed. I could tell her it was just business. A good investment opportunity. But we both know that's bullshit. "Maybe I'm sentimental," I say instead, my tone making it clear I'm anything but. She studies me for a long moment, and I can see her mind working. She always was smart. It was one of the things I loved about her. One of the many things. "What do you want?" she finally asks. "There must be something. You didn't agree to meet me just to watch me squirm." Oh, but I did. Though I'm finding it less satisfying than I'd hoped. There's no triumph in seeing her broken when all I can remember is how bright she used to shine. "I want to make you an offer," I hear myself say, the words forming before I've fully thought them through. But maybe that's better. If I think too hard, I'll remember why this is a terrible idea. Hope flickers in her eyes, and I hate how it makes my chest tighten. "I'll restructure the debt. Better terms, longer timeline. I'll even inject enough capital to stabilize operations." "Ethan, that's—that's incredibly generous. Thank you, I—" "I'm not finished." My voice cuts through her gratitude like ice. "There are conditions." The hope wavers. "What kind of conditions?" I lean back in my chair, studying her. Ten years ago, this woman chose money over love. Chose Marcus Zhao's trust fund and country club lifestyle over the future I was trying to build. She didn't believe in me then. Now she needs me. The irony is almost poetic. "You," I say simply. "The condition is you." Her face goes pale. "I don't understand." "Don't you?" I smile, and I know it doesn't reach my eyes. "You want to save your father's company? Fine. But you're going to work for it. For me. Personal assistant position. Six months. You'll do exactly what I say, when I say it. You'll be available whenever I need you." "You want me to be your assistant?" She sounds incredulous. "I have an MBA, Ethan. I ran the marketing department at—" "At your husband's firm. Yes, I know. How did that work out for you?" Direct hit. She recoils like I've slapped her. "Ex-husband," she corrects softly. "Right. Ex-husband. The man you left me for." I lean forward now, closing the distance between us. "So here's the deal, Lily. Six months of your life, or your father loses everything he's built. Your choice."