Chloe sits across from me, picking at her salad with practiced delicacy. Mia Kennedy lounges beside her, sipping wine like she's watching theater.
Because that's exactly what this is. Theater.
I knew the moment Chloe suggested this place, this time, that something was coming. She's been testing me for weeks now, probing for cracks in my armor of supposed poverty.
The entrance chime sounds, and I don't need to look up to know who's walking through that door.
Ethan Pierce.
I can feel his presence like a predator entering the room. The same arrogant swagger, the same entitled energy that made my skin crawl three years ago when I stole Chloe right out from under his nose.
"Noah Lancaster."
His voice cuts through the restaurant's ambiance like a blade. Several nearby tables turn to look.
I continue chewing my steak, not acknowledging him. Let him make the first move. Let Chloe see her little puppet dance.
"I'm talking to you, you piece of shit."
