Chapter 9 - THE FORTY-EIGHT MILLION DOLLAR SECRET
Elara drove directly to Stefan's office.
No appointment.
No warning.
The receptionist stood immediately.
"Ms. Arden—"
"Where is he?"
"Conference room."
Elara opened the doors.
Six executives turned.
Stefan stood at the head of the table.
One look at her face and he closed his folder.
"Everyone out."
Nobody argued.
When the doors closed, Elara placed her phone on the table.
"Forty-eight million dollars."
Stefan went still.
That was answer enough.
"You knew."
"Yes."
"Why is there forty-eight million dollars in an account opened under my name?"
"It wasn't forty-eight when I created it."
"That is not remotely the important part of that sentence."
He pulled out a chair.
Elara remained standing.
Stefan understood.
"The year we married, Armon offered me an agreement."
"What agreement?"
"If Voss Atlantic failed, he would take the company."
"Reasonable enough."
"And everything attached to my ownership."
Her face changed.
"Everything?"
"The house. Investments. Personal assets."
"You signed it?"
"I was twenty-eight and convinced failure happened to other people."
"Still sounds like you."
"Fair."
He continued.
"After we married, I realized the agreement could leave you with nothing if something happened to me."
"So you hid money."
"I separated legal profits from Voss Atlantic and placed them into an independent trust."
"In my name."
"Yes."
"Without telling me."
"Yes."
She stared.
"Why?"
"At first, because I didn't want Armon to know."
"And later?"
Stefan looked embarrassed.
That surprised her.
"Later I liked knowing there was one thing in your life I could never take away."
Elara sat down slowly.
"Forty-eight million dollars."
"Investments performed well."
She glared.
"Stop sounding pleased."
"Sorry."
"Did any illegal money enter it?"
"No."
"Can you prove that?"
"Every dollar."
She believed him.
Which was almost more frightening than the money.
"Why didn't you tell me during the divorce?"
"Because it was yours before the divorce."
"My attorney didn't find it."
"Your attorney wasn't supposed to."
"Stefan."
"It's legally yours. Always has been."
Elara stood again.
"You cannot keep making decisions for me and calling them gifts."
He flinched.
"You're right."
"Do you understand why this is a problem?"
"Yes."
"Explain."
He considered.
"Because even when I was trying to protect your independence, I was controlling the conditions under which you received it."
Elara stared.
"Damn."
"What?"
"Therapy is working."
Stefan almost smiled.
He had begun therapy three months earlier.
He had never told her.
Lucian had.
Apparently Stefan had initially treated therapy like a hostile negotiation.
His therapist had survived.
"Transfer whatever authority you still have," Elara said.
"I don't have any."
"Then give Reyes everything proving the source."
"I will."
She headed toward the door.
"Elara."
She stopped.
"There's one more thing."
She turned slowly.
"If you say another secret account, I may commit a felony."
"No."
Stefan opened a drawer.
He removed a small wooden box.
Elara recognized it instantly.
The box from the nursery.
Her breath caught.
"You left it at Oakville."
"I know."
He placed it on the table.
Inside was the ticket stub.
The Suite 14 photograph.
And her handwritten addition.
Then learn to live without knowing where I am.
She touched the edge.
"I did," Stefan said.
Elara looked up.
"I learned."
He swallowed.
"I hated it."
A tiny smile touched her mouth.
"But I learned."
He took a step back.
Not toward her.
Back.
Giving her room.
"I don't want the old marriage again."
She stared.
"I don't either."
"I don't want you to forgive me because we have Maeve."
"I won't."
"I don't want you because I'm lonely."
"Good."
"I want—"
He stopped.
"What?"
"For once, I'm trying not to tell you what I want before asking what you want."
That broke something open inside her.
Elara looked at the man she had married.
Then at the man standing before her.
Same face.
Same voice.
Not the same relationship.
Maybe that was the point.
"You want to know what I want?"
"Yes."
"Dinner."
He blinked.
"What?"
"Dinner. Friday. Seven."
"With Maeve?"
"No."
Stefan's face went completely blank.
Elara almost laughed.
"Are you asking me on a date?"
"No."
His hope disappeared.
"I'm telling you to ask me."
Understanding arrived.
Slowly.
Then all at once.
Stefan Voss, a man who had negotiated port contracts worth hundreds of millions, suddenly looked terrified.
"Elara Arden."
"Yes?"
"Would you have dinner with me Friday?"
She pretended to consider.
"Where?"
"Anywhere except Portoino."
She laughed.
"Good answer."
"Seven?"
"Seven."
Their first date lasted four hours.
No bodyguards at the table.
No business calls.
No discussion of reconciliation until dessert.
Stefan told her things he had never told her during seven years of marriage.
How terrified he had been when she first became pregnant.
How becoming a father made him recognize how much of his life had been built around fear.
How admiration had become addictive because intimacy required being seen accurately.
Elara told him things too.
How often she had made herself smaller to preserve peace.
How she had confused endurance with loyalty.
How leaving him had terrified her more than discovering Camille.
They did not kiss.
Not that night.
They went on another date.
Then another.
Three months passed.
One evening in June, Stefan stood outside Elara's Nova Scotia house after putting Maeve to sleep.
"Goodnight."
Elara leaned against the doorway.
"That's it?"
He looked confused.
"What?"
"You've been dating your ex-wife for three months."
"Yes."
"You haven't kissed her."
His eyebrows lifted.
"I was attempting respect."
"You're overachieving."
He smiled.
"Is that permission?"
"No."
He waited.
Elara stepped closer.
"This is."
She kissed him.
Slowly.
No desperation.
No claim.
Stefan touched her face as if holding something that could leave.
Because now he understood she could.
When they separated, his forehead rested against hers.
"I love you."
"I know."
He laughed softly.
"That's brutal."
"I love you too."
His eyes closed.
Then Elara added:
"But I'm not marrying you."
His eyes opened.
"Understood."
"Not yet."
Stefan stopped breathing.
May you like
Elara smiled.
And for once, she was the one who walked away while he stood speechless at the door.
