The Plan

POV: ISLA WINTERS (Present Day)

"Mama, why do you look so pretty?"

I glanced up from my laptop to find Nova standing in the doorway of my bedroom, clutching her stuffed rabbit. At three years old, my daughter was already developing the Romano instinct for reading people. Those ice-blue eyes, Jaxon's eyes missed nothing.

"I have a work dinner, baby," I said, smoothing down the black silk dress I'd chosen. Elegant but professional. The kind of dress that said I'm successful without screaming I'm trying too hard.

The kind of dress I'd never owned when I was married to Jaxon.

"With the mean man?" Rowan appeared behind his sister, his dark hair, also Jaxon's sticking up in all directions from his nap.

"He's not a mean man, sweetheart. He's just..." I paused, searching for words that wouldn't confuse my three-year-olds. "He's someone Mama used to know. And now I'm helping him with work."

 I'd spent three years planning this revenge, engineering this return, perfecting every detail of my new identity. But I hadn't planned for this part, the part where I had to look my children in the eyes and explain why their father didn't know they existed.

"Mia says you're going to make the mean man sorry," Nova announced, climbing up next to her brother.

I made a mental note to have a conversation with Mia about what she said in front of the twins.

"Mia talks too much," I said lightly. "Now, both of you need to wash your hands before dinner. Mia's making spaghetti."

"With meatballs?" Rowan's face lit up.

"With meatballs."

They scrambled off the bed and thundered down the hallway to the bathroom, arguing about who got to use the soap first. I heard Mia's gentle voice and felt a wave of gratitude for my best friend.

Mia had been there for everything. The divorce. The pregnancy I discovered two weeks after signing the papers. The terrifying moment when I realized I was going to be a single mother with no job, no support system, and no idea how to survive.

She'd held my hand through every ultrasound, every contraction, every sleepless night after the twins were born. When I'd decided to go back to school, she'd watched the babies so I could study. When I'd started my consulting business, she'd been my first employee and most trusted advisor.

And when I'd told her my plan to come back to New York, to walk back into Jaxon's life and destroy him the way he'd destroyed me, she'd only asked one question:

Are you sure you can handle seeing him again?

I'd said yes. I'd been so certain.

But sitting across from him in that boardroom today, watching him look at me with polite professional interest and absolutely no recognition, had been harder than I'd anticipated.

Part of me had wanted him to know immediately. To see through the expensive clothes and professional polish to the girl he'd married and divorced. To feel shock, remorse…something.

Instead, he'd looked at me like I was a puzzle to solve. A problem to be analyzed and categorized and filed away in whatever mental compartment he reserved for business associates.

Just like he'd looked at me during our marriage.

My phone buzzed on the dresser. A text from an unknown number that I knew had to be him.

Still on for eight? Looking forward to it.

I stared at those words, searching for hidden meaning. Was it flirtation? Simple professionalism? Or was it possible that somewhere in that brilliant, calculating mind of his, he'd figured out who I really was?

No. Impossible. If Jaxon knew I was Isla Winters, his response would be very different. There would be anger, or defensiveness.

Unless he was playing a game too.

I shook off the thought. I was being paranoid. Jaxon Romano was many things, but he wasn't duplicitous. His cruelty had always been straightforward, honest in its brutality. He didn't hide what he was, he just didn't care about the damage he caused.

See you then, I texted back.

"Isla?" Mia appeared in my doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "The kids are eating. You should go before you're late."

"I'm having second thoughts."

"Too late for those." She walked into my room and sat on the edge of the bed, her expression serious. "You've come this far. You've built this entire new life, this entire plan. You can't back out now just because he looked at you."

"He didn't just look at me. He didn't recognize me, Mia." I sank down next to her, suddenly exhausted. "Six years. I gave him a year of my life, loved him with everything I had, carried his children, and he looked right through me like I was a stranger."

"Good. That's what you wanted, remember? You wanted to walk back into his world powerful enough that he'd have to respect you. And he does. He offered you CTO, Isla. He's giving you everything you asked for."

"Because he's desperate."

"So? Use it." Mia's dark eyes were fierce. "You've spent three years becoming Dr. Isla Vale. Tonight, you sit across from Jaxon Romano and you remind him, without him even knowing it, of everything he threw away. You show him the woman you've become. And when he finally realizes who you are, when he understands that the brilliant, successful Dr. Vale is the wife he threw away like trash, he's going to be on his knees begging."

"And if he never figures it out?"

"Then you tell him. On your terms. When you're ready." She squeezed my hand. "But Isla, you need to be prepared for the possibility that this doesn't go the way you planned. That seeing him regularly, working with him, being close to him again... it might not feel as satisfying as you thought."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that revenge fantasies are easier when the person is abstract. When Jaxon was just 'the man who hurt you' and not a real person sitting across from you in a boardroom. Now he's real again. And you have to decide if you can really go through with this."

I stood up, smoothing my dress, checking my reflection one more time. The woman looking back at me was strong, sophisticated, successful. She bore no resemblance to the girl who'd cried herself to sleep in an empty penthouse six years ago.

"I can go through with it," I said firmly. "He destroyed me once. I won't give him the power to do it again."

"Okay." Mia stood too, hugging me briefly. "But promise me something. Promise that if this gets too hard, if being around him starts to hurt more than it helps, you'll walk away. You'll take the twins and come back to Seattle and we'll build something else. Something that doesn't require you to face your past every single day."

"I promise."

It was a lie. We both knew it. But Mia accepted it anyway because she was my friend and she trusted me to know my own limits.

Even if I wasn't entirely sure I knew them anymore.

Aquavit was the kind of restaurant that required reservations weeks in advance. Fortunately, when you were Dr. Isla Vale with a platinum card and a reputation for generous tips, hostesses found ways to make things work.

I arrived at seven-fifty-five, deliberately late enough that I wouldn't be waiting, early enough that I wouldn't seem rude. The hostess led me to a corner table, private but not intimate, with a view of the restaurant but not the street.

Perfect.

Jaxon was already there.

He stood when he saw me approaching, and I felt an unwelcome flutter in my stomach. He'd changed from his suit into dark slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Casual for him, but still devastatingly handsome.

I'd forgotten how handsome he was. Or maybe I'd forced myself to forget.

"Dr. Vale." He extended his hand. "Thank you for meeting me."

"Mr. Romano." I shook his hand briefly, ignoring the jolt of electricity at the contact. His hand was warm, his grip firm but not aggressive. The hand that had once touched me with distant obligation. The hand that had signed our divorce papers without hesitation.

I pulled away and sat down before he could pull out my chair. Small acts of independence. Reminders that I didn't need his courtesies.

"I took the liberty of ordering wine," he said, gesturing to the bottle already breathing on the table. "A Barolo. But if you'd prefer something else…"

"Barolo is fine."

It had been my favorite six years ago, back when I'd had favorites, back when I'd allowed myself small pleasures. Did he remember? Or was it coincidence?

He poured for both of us, his movements economical and precise. Everything Jaxon did was precise.

"So," he said, settling back in his chair and studying me over his wine glass. "Dr. Isla Vale. MIT undergraduate, Stanford graduate school, founded Vale Systems three years ago. Impressive trajectory."

"Thank you."

"But what I can't figure out..." He paused, swirling his wine. "Is why someone with your credentials would want to tie herself to a failing company like Apex. You could work anywhere. Consult for anyone. Why us?"

Because you destroyed me and I've spent three years planning my revenge. Because every line of code in Apex's foundation is mine and I'm here to take back what you stole. Because I want to watch you grovel and beg and finally understand what it feels like to lose everything.

"Apex isn't failing," I said calmly. "It's struggling. There's a difference. The foundation is solid, brilliant, actually. Whoever built your original architecture understood not just code, but vision. The elegance of it is remarkable."

"You sound like you admire them."

"I admire good work." I took a sip of wine, letting the familiar taste ground me. "The problem isn't the foundation. It's everything built on top of it. You've let mediocrity pile on top of genius. My job would be to strip away the mediocrity and let the genius breathe again."

"And you think you can do that?"

"I know I can."

"Confidence." A small smile played at his lips. "I like that."

Don't smile at me, I thought. Don't look at me like I'm interesting. Don't make this harder than it already is.

"It's not confidence when you have the track record to back it up," I said instead.

"True." He set down his wine glass and leaned forward slightly. "Can I ask you something personal, Dr. Vale?"

My heart rate kicked up. "That depends on the question."

"Why did you really take this meeting? The board is going to accept your terms, they'd be idiots not to. So why agree to dinner with me?"

The question hung between us, loaded with more meaning than he could possibly know.

I could tell the truth. Could lean across this table and say I'm your ex-wife and I'm here to destroy you. Watch his face change from mild interest to shock to... what? Remorse? Anger? Indifference?

But that wasn't the plan. The plan was to be patient. To embed myself so deeply into Apex that by the time he realized who I was, it would be too late. I'd already have everything I needed to tear his world apart.

"I'm after the same thing everyone in business is after, Mr. Romano," I said smoothly. "Success. Power. The satisfaction of doing work that matters." I paused, then added, "And perhaps a little bit of redemption."

"Redemption? For what?"

"For past mistakes. For times when I let myself be invisible when I should have demanded to be seen. For accepting less than I deserved." Every word was true, even if he didn't know I was talking about him. About us. "We all have things we wish we'd done differently, don't we?"

Something flickered in his eyes. A shadow. A memory, perhaps. "Yes. We do."

The waiter appeared, breaking the moment, and we ordered. I chose without looking at the menu, relying on muscle memory from the hundreds of business dinners I'd navigated in the past three years.

When we were alone again, Jaxon said, "You asked me about redemption. I'll tell you mine."

"You don't have to"

"I want to." He turned his wine glass in slow circles. "I've been married twice. Both ended badly. The first was... I was young. Stupid. I married for the wrong reasons and treated my wife terribly. She deserved better."

My chest tightened. He was talking about me. And he had no idea I was sitting right here.

"The second marriage," he continued, "was impulsive. I thought I was making a better choice, but I was just making the same mistakes with a different person. I have a daughter from that marriage. Ashley. She's seven. I barely see her."

"That must be difficult."

"It's entirely my fault." He met my eyes. "I'm not good at relationships, Dr. Vale. I'm good at business, at building things, at making money. But people? I'm terrible at people. I push them away without meaning to. I prioritize work over everything else. I make promises I don't keep."

Why was he telling me this? What game was he playing?

"Everyone has their struggles, Mr. Romano."

"Jaxon," he said. "If we're going to work together, you should call me Jaxon."

"Then you should call me Isla."

The name hung between us. My real name. The name I'd given him six years ago when we'd stood in front of a justice of the peace and promised to honor each other.

He'd broken that promise within weeks.

"Isla," he repeated, testing it. "It's a beautiful name."

"Thank you."

Our food arrived. We ate in relative silence, the conversation shifting to safer topics, Apex's competitors, industry trends, the challenges of scaling a tech company in a saturated market.

Exactly what I needed.

But as the meal progressed, I became aware of something else. The way he looked at me. Not with the distant politeness of a business associate, but with something else. Curiosity

Maybe even attraction.

No. That was impossible. Jaxon Romano didn't want me. He'd proven that six years ago when he'd barely touched me during our entire marriage, when he'd slept with my sister instead, when he'd signed divorce papers without a second thought.

But men were simple creatures. And Dr. Isla Vale, successful, confident, unattainable was exactly the kind of woman men like Jaxon wanted.

It was ironic in the cruelest way.

"I should go," I said when we'd finished dessert. "I have an early morning tomorrow."

"Of course." He signaled for the check, which appeared immediately. "I'll have my driver take you home."

"That's not necessary. I have a car."

"Then let me walk you out."

I wanted to refuse, but that would seem strange. So I nodded, gathering my purse as he settled the bill with a black card I recognized, the same one he'd had during our marriage.

Outside, my car was waiting at the curb, but Jaxon walked me to it anyway.

"Thank you for dinner," I said formally. "I look forward to working with Apex."

"Isla." He said my name like it meant something. "That question earlier, about whether we'd met before. I wasn't imagining it, was I? There's something familiar about you."

My blood ran cold. "I told you, I have one of those faces."

"No." He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne, the same one he'd worn years ago. "It's not your face. It's... the way you look at me. Like you know me. Like you're seeing something I can't see."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" His eyes searched mine. "Because I keep thinking about that woman who worked at Apex years ago. The one I barely noticed. And I keep wondering if…"

"Good night, Mr. Romano." I opened the car door myself, sliding inside before he could finish that sentence. "I'll see you Monday morning."

I closed the door. The driver pulled away from the curb.

And I didn't look back.

But in the rearview mirror, I saw him standing on the sidewalk, watching my car disappear into traffic. His hands in his pockets. His expression… searching.

My phone buzzed. A text from Mia: How did it go?

I typed back with shaking hands: I think he's starting to figure it out.

Three dots appeared. Then: Good. Let him wonder. Let him worry. Let him lose sleep trying to put the pieces together.

And if he figures it out before I'm ready?

Then you improvise. You're Isla Vale now. You're not that scared girl anymore. Remember that.

I looked out the window at the city rushing past and tried to hold onto that truth.

I wasn't that scared girl anymore.

But sitting across from Jaxon tonight, hearing him talk about his regrets, watching him almost figure out who I was, It had felt dangerously close to that old, familiar ache.

The one that said maybe, just maybe, if I'd been different, if I'd been better, if I'd been enough, he would have loved me.

I pushed the thought away violently.

No.

I was done with that.

I was here for revenge. Not for him to love me.

Never for that.