Chapter 6: The Table He Booked
He was already seated when I walked in.
Weston had chosen the corner table — the same one from four years ago, when he'd ordered for both of us without asking and I'd found it charming.
He was wearing the grey jacket I'd bought him for his birthday.
He stood when he saw me, and for a moment his face did something complicated — relief, calculation, and something that might have been genuine feeling all moving across it at once.
I sat down across from him.
"You came," he said.
"I came."
The waiter appeared.
Weston ordered wine.
I ordered water.
"Ava, I want to start by saying that what happened at my mother's house—"
"I'm not here to talk about your mother's house."
He stopped.
"I'm here because I want to give you a chance to tell me the truth.
Before I tell you what I already know." I set my hands on the table.
"I want you to tell me about Dani."
The wine arrived.
He didn't touch it.
"She contacted you," he said.
"She did."
"Whatever she told you—"
"She sent me bank records, Weston.
Forty thousand dollars over nineteen months.
All of it taken under the same story you told me.
The startup.
The runway.
The emergency that was always just about to be resolved."
His jaw tightened.
"I paid her back."
"You didn't.
I have the records."
"I was going to—"
"Tell me about the bracelet."
The color shifted in his face.
Not dramatically.
Just a small change around the eyes.
"What bracelet?"
"Rose gold.
Eighteen carat.
Engraved.
Purchased eleven months ago, three months after you moved into my house." I kept my voice even.
"I've never owned a rose gold bracelet.
So who did you buy it for?"
He picked up the wine glass and put it down again without drinking.
"It was a gift," he said.
"For a client.
A thank-you."
"Engraved with *Always — W*?"
Silence.
"Her name," I said.
"I want her name."
"Ava, this is not what you think—"
"Her name."
He looked at the table.
"It doesn't matter.
It was over before it started.
It was a mistake and it meant nothing."
"Her name."
"Simone." He said it quietly.
"She was an investor contact.
It lasted three months.
It's been over for almost a year."
I nodded slowly.
"And before Dani.
There were two others.
One in 2019.
One in 2020."
His head came up.
"I know about the money from all of them," I said.
"I know about the company filings.
I know your mother has signing authority and has had it since the beginning.
I know the startup has not generated real revenue in over two and a half years.
I know that every financial crisis you brought to me, and to Dani, and to the women before her, followed the same script."
"Ava—"
"I'm not finished." I leaned forward slightly.
"I am four months pregnant.
I have paid one hundred and twelve thousand dollars into your life in two years.
And six days ago, your mother shoved me against a wall while I was carrying your child."
The restaurant moved quietly around us.
Glasses.
Murmured conversation.
The ordinary world.
"I want to fix this," he said.
His voice had gone low.
"I know I've made mistakes.
I know I've handled money badly.
But I love you.
I love this baby.
If you walk away from this, you're walking away from our family."
"You don't have a family," I said.
"You have a system.
And I've spent two years being part of it without knowing."
"That's not fair—"
"I've spoken to a solicitor." I picked up my bag.
"You have until Monday to vacate my house.
I'll have your belongings boxed and left in the hallway.
If you need more time to arrange somewhere to go, I suggest you call your mother.
She seems very invested in your future."
He reached across the table and grabbed my wrist.
Not hard.
But he grabbed it.
"Don't do this," he said.
"Think about the baby.
Think about what you're throwing away."
I looked at his hand on my wrist.
Then I looked at him.
"Let go of my arm," I said.
"Right now."
He let go.
I stood up, left two twenties on the table for the water and the wine he hadn't touched, and walked out.
He didn't follow me.
I didn't look back to check.
But when I reached my car, my phone buzzed.
Not Weston.
A number I didn't recognize.
I answered it.
"Is this Ava Caldwell?" A man's voice.
Formal.
Careful.
"Yes."
"My name is Richard Holt.
I'm a financial crimes investigator.
I've been looking into a series of complaints related to a company called Vertex Solutions.
I believe you may have had a financial relationship with the director."
I stood very still beside my car.
"How did you get my number?" I said.
"One of the other complainants provided it.
With your permission, I'd like to meet."
May you like
The streetlight above me flickered once and held.
"When?" I said.
