Chapter 5 PUBLIC PLACES, PRIVATE WARS

The universe has a twisted sense of timing.

I realized that the moment I stepped into the conference hall the next morning, badge hanging from my neck, coffee bitterness still clinging to my tongue, pretending my heart hadn’t been through a long-haul flight and a longer heartbreak.

The venue was massive—glass walls, high ceilings, muted chatter bouncing off polished floors. People in tailored suits moved with purpose, shaking hands, exchanging business cards, smiling like ambition tasted good.

I walked beside Mr. Pierce, matching his pace, professional mask firmly in place.

You could survive anything if you looked composed enough.

That’s what I told myself.

Then I heard my name.

“Althea?”

My spine stiffened.

That voice.

I stopped walking.

Slowly—too slowly—I turned around.

And there he was.

Caleb.

Standing barely ten feet away, dressed sharply in a navy suit I recognized, hair neatly styled, expression caught halfway between shock and disbelief. For a second, my brain refused to cooperate. It felt like seeing a ghost in daylight—wrong place, wrong time, wrong reality.

My chest tightened.

Something ugly and confusing surged through me all at once. Rage. Disbelief. A flicker of something that felt dangerously close to familiarity.

I hated that flicker.

I hated that my body still remembered him.

But my face?

Calm. Smooth. Untouched.

“Oh,” I said evenly. “Hi.”

The word felt foreign on my tongue.

Caleb’s brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

The audacity almost made me laugh.

“I’m attending the conference,” I replied lightly. “You?”

He blinked, clearly thrown off by my tone. “I—uh—I work with Ridgeway Solutions now. We’re collaborating with a few firms here.”

Of course you are, I thought.

Australia wasn’t just his escape. It was his upgrade.

“That’s… unexpected,” he added, eyes scanning me like he was looking for cracks. “I didn’t know you were—”

“Althea.”

Mr. Pierce’s voice cut in smoothly.

He appeared at my side like he’d been summoned, holding two takeaway coffee cups, suit immaculate, expression unreadable as ever.

“Sorry,” he said calmly. “Got caught up with registration.”

Before I could think—before doubt or pride or reason could interfere—I leaned into him.

Physically.

Naturally.

My hand slid around his arm. My head tilted slightly toward his shoulder.

“Baby,” I said warmly, voice honeyed and loud enough. “There you are.”

I felt his body tense.

Just for half a second.

Then—impressively—he recovered.

“Oh,” I continued, smiling brightly as I reached for the coffee cup in his hand. “You got me my coffee.”

I took it from him, lifted it to my lips, and took a slow sip.

Perfect timing.

I leaned in closer, my mouth near his ear.

“Please,” I whispered. “Play along.”

His jaw tightened.

But he didn’t pull away.

Instead, his arm came around my waist—not possessive, not tight, just enough to sell the illusion.

Caleb stared.

I watched it happen in real time—the confusion morphing into disbelief, disbelief hardening into anger. His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Baby?” he repeated flatly.

I turned to him, still smiling. “Caleb, this is Rowan. My—”

“Partner,” Rowan finished smoothly.

The word landed like a dropped glass.

Caleb’s eyes darkened.

“Oh,” he said shortly. “I see.”

Something sharp twisted in my chest.

Good.

“I should—” Caleb exhaled sharply. “I should get going. I have a session to attend.”

“Okay,” I said simply.

No drama. No chase.

Just okay.

He lingered for half a second longer, like he was waiting for me to say something else.

I didn’t.

He turned and walked away, shoulders stiff, anger radiating off him like heat.

I watched his back disappear into the crowd.

Only then did I release the breath I’d been holding.

Rowan immediately stepped away, his arm dropping from my waist.

“What,” he said quietly, “was that?”

I turned to face him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was… impulsive.”

“Impulsive?” he echoed. “You just claimed me in public.”

“I know,” I said quickly. “He’s my ex.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed.

“The one who relocated without telling me,” I added. “He ruined what we had. I didn’t want him thinking I was miserable without him.”

Rowan studied my face for a long moment.

Then he sighed.

“Well,” he said dryly, “I helped you out. So now you owe me a favor.”

I stiffened. “A favor?”

“Yes,” he replied calmly. “I can ask for it anytime.”

I swallowed. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “Relax. I won’t abuse it.”

“I don’t like owing people,” I muttered.

“You already do,” he said, then gestured toward the hall. “Come on. We’re late.”

The conference passed in a blur of presentations and polite applause. I took notes. Asked questions. Nodded when appropriate. Functioned.

But my mind kept drifting.

To the way Caleb’s face had tightened.

To the way his eyes had followed me.

To the way it felt—briefly—to be chosen in front of him.

During the break, I excused myself to the restroom.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, a hand grabbed my wrist.

I gasped and spun around.

Caleb.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, low and furious.

I yanked my arm free. “Don’t touch me.”

“So you’ve moved on?” he snapped. “Just like that? We didn’t mean anything to you?”

I stared at him.

The nerve.

“Is that how easy it was for you to forget me?” he continued bitterly. “To replace me?”

I scoffed.

“Caleb,” I said coolly, “stop whining.”

His eyes widened.

“You left,” I continued, voice steady. “You relocated without telling me. You let your mother disrespect me. You erased me from your plans.”

He opened his mouth.

I cut him off.

“Your era is over.”

The words felt deliciously final.

His face hardened. “You’re pretending,” he said. “You’re not over me.”

I smiled then. Not soft. Not kind.

“You don’t get to decide that anymore.”

I turned and walked away, heels clicking sharply against the floor.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t need to.

For the first time since that 3 a.m. call, I felt something unfamiliar settle in my chest.

Not pain.

Not longing.

Control.

And as I stepped back into the conference hall, badge straight, shoulders back, I understood something with startling clarity—

The past had finally caught up with me.

And in that moment, I realized I shouldn’t have owed Rowan that favor.

Because when he finally decided to collect it, what he asked for wasn’t just unexpected—

it was reckless.

And it was about to change everything.