CHAPTER 2: THE MAN WHO COULDN’T LOOK AWAY

Calder Ives had faced hostile investors, collapsing deals, and men who smiled while plotting to destroy his company.

None of them had ever unsettled him as much as seeing his ex-wife’s name on the Meridian House shortlist.

“Morne Studio,” Penn Ashford said beside him. “Interesting choice.”

Calder dragged his attention from the screen. “What is?”

“The studio that just made the shortlist.” Penn adjusted his cufflinks, watching him with the sharp eyes of a man who missed very little. “You know the founder, I presume?”

“Avah Morne.”

“I gathered that from your expression.”

“My expression is fine.”

“Of course. And I’m a retired ballet dancer.”

Calder gave him a warning look.

Penn only smiled. As senior adviser to Ives Holdings, he had earned the privilege of being irritating without losing his position.

“Her portfolio is strong,” Penn continued. “The selection committee was impressed by her proposal. Particularly her approach to the public spaces.”

“Who reviewed it?”

“The committee. Independently.”

Calder’s jaw tightened.

He disliked the instinctive suspicion that rose inside him. Avah was talented. He knew that, even if he had spent much of their marriage behaving as though her ambitions were pleasant little distractions.

Still, seeing her name attached to his company’s most important development stirred something uncomfortable in his chest.

“What happens next?” he asked.

“Final presentations. Each shortlisted studio will defend its design, budget, and implementation plan. The committee will select the winning team.”

“Fine.”

Penn studied him. “You sound as though you’re preparing for a military campaign.”

“I’m preparing for a professional decision.”

“Then make sure it stays professional.”

Calder turned toward him. “Do you have a point?”

“Several. But I’ll spare you the lecture.” Penn paused. “Just remember that the woman on that shortlist is a designer, not your former wife.”

Calder’s fingers tightened around his glass.

“I know exactly who she is.”

That was the problem.

He knew her name, her favorite coffee, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when concentrating, and how she preferred to work late when a design refused to come together.

He knew the details.

What he had never learned was what those details meant to her.

Avah was still smiling when she stepped away from the stage.

Clove was practically vibrating beside her.

“Your name was on that screen!” she whispered. “Your name. On a project owned by Ives Holdings.”

“I noticed.”

“You’re supposed to look excited.”

“I am excited.”

“You look like someone who has just discovered a suspicious stain on an expensive carpet.”

Avah laughed. “I’m trying to remain professional.”

“Professional? Avah, we are going to celebrate. I’m ordering the most ridiculous dessert on the menu, and you’re not allowed to discuss measurements, furniture, or lighting.”

“What if the dessert has terrible lighting?”

“I will leave you here.”

The laughter eased the tension in Avah’s shoulders.

But beneath her excitement, an old fear had begun to stir.

Meridian House was the kind of project that could transform Morne Studio from a promising design firm into a respected name across Aurelia City. It would provide new opportunities, strengthen her portfolio, and give her team the resources to pursue projects they had previously been forced to turn down.

It was also Calder’s project.

She could already imagine the whispers.

She got shortlisted because she was married to him.

He must have arranged it.

She’s using her old connections.

The possibility irritated her more than she wanted to admit.

She had spent too much of her life being defined by her connection to Calder Ives. She would not allow her professional achievements to become another chapter in that story.

“Are you thinking about him?” Clove asked quietly.

Avah glanced at her. “I'm thinking about the project.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“Then ask me something easier.”

Clove's expression softened.

“You earned this,” she said. “Your proposal was good. Your team worked hard. You don't have to apologize for being qualified just because the client happens to be someone you once loved.”

Avah swallowed.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Avah looked toward the stage, where the director was congratulating representatives from the shortlisted firms.

“Yes,” she said, more firmly this time. “I do.”

A server passed with a tray of drinks. Avah took a glass of water instead of champagne.

She wanted her head clear.

Tonight was not about Calder.

It was about the door that had finally opened for her.

And she intended to walk through it herself.

“Ms. Morne.”

Avah recognized the voice before she turned.

Calder stood a few feet away, his expression composed. Up close, she could see the faint tension in his jaw.

“Mr. Ives.”

His eyes narrowed slightly at the formal address.

“Congratulations on the shortlist.”

“Thank you.”

“Your proposal must have impressed the committee.”

“It did.”

The answer seemed to catch him off guard.

Avah almost smiled. The old version of herself would have softened the statement, adding a self-deprecating joke to make sure nobody thought she was arrogant.

She had no intention of doing that anymore.

Calder glanced at the glass in her hand. “Are you planning to submit the same concept for the final presentation?”

“If the brief remains the same.”

“Meridian House has complicated requirements. The public areas will need to accommodate different events, and the residential section has strict operational limitations.”

“I read the brief.”

“Of course.”

Something in his tone made her lift an eyebrow.

“Did you expect me to submit a proposal without reading the requirements?”

“No. I was offering information.”

“Then I appreciate the concern. But my team and I understand the project.”

He went quiet.

For a moment, Avah saw the man she used to know—the one who could negotiate a multimillion-dollar deal in a single afternoon but struggled to respond when a conversation did not follow the script in his head.

She wondered whether he was beginning to understand how exhausting it had been to live beside him.

“You've become very direct,” he said.

“I've always been direct.”

“Not with me.”

The words escaped him before he could appear to reconsider them.

Avah's smile faded.

“No,” she said softly. “I wasn't.”

A flicker of something crossed his face.

Regret, perhaps.

Or the discomfort of hearing an answer he hadn't expected.

She could have told him why. She could have explained how many times she had swallowed her opinions because he was tired, busy, distracted, or simply uninterested. She could have described the quiet loneliness of sharing a home with a man who treated emotional conversations like appointments he never had time to keep.

But she wasn't going to hand him the key to every locked room inside her.

“You should speak to the project team if you have concerns about my proposal,” she continued. “I'll answer any questions they have.”

“I don't have concerns about your proposal.”

“Then we have nothing to discuss professionally.”

His gaze held hers.

“And personally?”

Avah felt the question settle between them.

For a brief second, the ballroom seemed too warm.

She remembered his office, the papers, and the calm certainty with which he had ended their marriage. She remembered going home afterward and sitting on the floor because the silence inside their apartment had felt too heavy to stand through.

She remembered how long it had taken to stop hoping that he would call.

“Personally,” she said, “we have even less to discuss.”

Calder looked as though she had struck him.

Good, a small and unkind part of her thought.

Then she felt ashamed of the satisfaction.

She didn't want to become a woman who measured her healing by how much pain she could cause him.

She simply wanted to be free of the need to care whether he hurt.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Ives.”

She walked away before he could answer.

This time, she didn't feel victorious.

She felt tired.

And strangely relieved.

Calder watched Avah return to her friend.

He had expected anger. He might even have preferred it. Anger would have meant she was still willing to spend energy on him.

Instead, she had given him politeness, boundaries, and the unmistakable impression that his opinion no longer carried any special weight.

He hated how much that bothered him.

“Calder.”

Serena Holt's voice interrupted his thoughts.

He turned to find her standing beside him in a silver dress, her blonde hair swept into an elegant knot. She looked as composed as ever, but her eyes moved from his face to Avah across the room.

“So,” Serena said. “She's here.”

“Yes.”

“And she's working on Meridian House?”

“She made the shortlist.”

Serena studied him. “You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

“Because you didn't think she was capable of it?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

Serena's expression changed.

“Calder, I wasn't accusing you.”

He looked away.

Their history was complicated, filled with affection that had never quite become the life either of them had imagined. When Serena returned to Aurelia City, he had convinced himself that choosing the familiar was the same as choosing what he wanted.

Avah had paid the price for that mistake.

He had never said those words aloud.

He wasn't certain he was ready to.

Serena followed his gaze toward Avah, who was listening to Clove with a smile.

“She looks happy,” Serena said.

“She does.”

“Are you happy for her?”

Calder stared at her.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Serena gave him a sad, knowing smile. “That's a question only you can answer.”

Before he could respond, she touched his arm.

“Don't turn her success into a problem you need to solve.”

“I wouldn't.”

“I hope not.”

Serena withdrew her hand and left him standing beneath the chandelier.

For the first time that evening, Calder wondered whether the woman he had once chosen was seeing something in him that he had spent years refusing to acknowledge.

He looked back toward Avah.

She was no longer there.

Near the entrance, Avah slipped her coat over her shoulders while Clove checked that they had collected everything.

“You did well tonight,” Clove said.

“We haven't won anything yet.”

“You got shortlisted. That's something.”

Avah nodded.

Her phone vibrated inside her handbag.

An email notification appeared on the screen.

Subject: Meridian House — Final Presentation Requirements

She opened it.

The message contained the schedule for the next stage, a list of required documents, and the names of the Ives Holdings representatives who would attend each presentation.

Avah scanned the list.

Then she stopped.

At the bottom of the email, beneath the committee members, was a line that made her stomach tighten.

Executive Sponsor: Calder Ives.

Clove leaned over her shoulder.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me.”

Avah read the line again.

She had known that Calder owned the company. She had expected his name to appear somewhere in the project documentation.

But executive sponsor meant he would be directly involved. He would attend the presentations, review the progress, and have a voice in the decisions surrounding Meridian House.

She had wanted a professional opportunity.

She had not wanted a front-row seat to the man who had broken her heart.

Clove took her arm. “We can withdraw.”

Avah looked up sharply. “No.”

“Avah—”

“No,” she repeated. “We earned our place on that shortlist. I'm not giving it up because he's involved.”

Her friend searched her face.

“And if working with him hurts?”

Avah looked toward the ballroom one last time.

Through the glass doors, she could see Calder standing alone near the stage, his expression unreadable as he listened to someone speaking.

Once, she would have crossed the room to ask what was wrong.

Now, she turned away.

“Then I'll deal with it,” she said. “But I won't run.”

She stepped into the night with her head held high, carrying the first real opportunity of her career in her handbag.

Behind her, the gala continued.

And inside the ballroom, Calder Ives finally understood the consequence of a decision he had once made without hesitation.

He was going to have to work with the woman he had lost.

And she had already made it clear that he no longer had the right to her heart.