All Chapters of Ex Husband, Prepare To Burn : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Elara's POV "You're actually going to do it." "I said I would." Julian stood at the door, key card in hand this time instead of whatever code the panel wanted — different from the touchpad, a swipe instead of numbers, which struck me as strange before I decided it wasn't worth mentioning yet. "Are you ready?" "I've been ready for three months." "That's not what I asked." I looked at him. Really looked, the way I'd started doing with everyone since the name arrived, cataloguing the small things that used to slip past me. He hadn't slept. That much was obvious — the shadows under his eyes were the kind sleep doesn't fix in one night, only prevents in the first place. "Open it, Julian." He swiped the card. The lock clicked, small and unremarkable, and the door swung inward onto a room that was — nothing. Not nothing exactly. A desk. A single filing cabinet. A shelf with a few boxes, labeled in handwriting too neat to be casual. No dust. No sense that anyone had ever actually live

Elara's POV The hallway blurred as I walked it, journal still clutched against my chest, my own name — my own children's names — repeating themselves in my head like a rope I was trying to climb hand over hand. "Elara. Wait." Julian's voice, behind me, closer than I expected. I didn't stop. "Elara, please, just—" "Don't." I turned on him, and whatever was on my face made him actually stop moving. "Don't ask me to wait. You've had me waiting for three months without even telling me what I was waiting for." "I'll help you. Whatever you need — flights, money, people to find them faster than any police force could—" "I don't want your help." "You don't mean that." "I do." My hands were shaking around the notebook. "Every single thing you've given me these three months came with something hidden underneath it. I don't know how to take anything from you anymore without wondering what you're not saying." "That's not fair." "You keep telling me what's fair, Julian, and y

Julian's POV "You let him take her." Klaus didn't flinch. "I opened a door. She walked through it herself." "You hit the release before I could stop you." "You weren't going to stop her, Julian. You were going to keep finding new sentences to delay the moment you actually had to." He said it without heat, which somehow made it land harder than shouting would have. "I've watched you talk yourself into worse things over smaller stakes. I wasn't going to watch you do it to a woman who finally had a name to stand on." I said nothing. The front hall still had the cold night air trapped in it, the door not quite shut, gravel dust settled thin across the marble where too many feet had crossed too fast. "Where would he take her," I said, finally. "Home, presumably. Wherever home is for a woman who's spent three months not knowing the word." "Track the jet." "Julian—" "Track it, Klaus. I'm not asking you to stop me this time. I'm asking you to find her." He looked at me a long mome

Elara's POVThe house looked wrong before I understood why."Careful." Sullivan wheeled himself through the door someone held open for him. "It'll feel too big at first. It always does, coming back to somewhere your body remembers better than your head does.""How do you know that?""Because I've done it myself. Different circumstances. Same feeling." He didn't elaborate, and I didn't press.A woman came down the hall fast, hands pressed to her mouth, and didn't say anything at all — just crossed the space and put both arms around me before I'd worked out whether I should know her."You came back." Her voice broke into my shoulder. "Madam, you came back.""I did." The words left me before I'd decided what else to say. Something in her voice told me madam was mine, that this wasn't a stranger's mistake."Mrs. Adele." Sullivan's tone had gone gentler than anything else he'd used yet. "Give her room to breathe."The name settled into place the second he offered it. Adele. I turned it ove

Elara's POV "Absolutely not." Ian said it before I'd even finished laying out the plan, standing at the head of the same dining table that had been a war room twice already this year. "You haven't heard the whole thing." "I've heard enough. You want to let him think he's getting a meeting." "I want to control when and where he thinks that." My voice stayed level. "He's coming regardless, Ian. Sullivan's caller made that clear. The only choice left is whether it happens on ground we've chosen, with people we trust, or in some parking lot he picks because we spent three weeks refusing to engage." "There has to be another way." "Name one." He didn't. His jaw worked once, and he looked at the table instead of at me. Danvers spread a set of building plans across the table — SM Group's Sydney offices, the top floor, a boardroom. I looked at the layout and nothing in me stirred at all, no flicker of recognition, nothing. "If it happens, it happens here." She tapped the