Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Leila’s POV
I’d been on edge for the rest of the week, ever since Blaze’s unannounced and unwelcome visit to my house.
And then running into Luca again. It felt like everything in my life was sliding west, deeper and deeper into a pit I couldn’t climb out of.
By Saturday, I needed a distraction—something normal, something that belonged only to me and Ollie.
The park buzzed with the sounds of haggling and the distant honking of cars from the nearby road.
Every Saturday, this place was crowded with people hunting for thrifted items and sales.
Ollie and I had a tradition—every Saturday, we’d come here to browse for secondhand finds.
Lately, it had become more of a ritual of looking at things I wished I could buy but couldn’t, calculating the weight of every financial decision before making it.
Luckily for me, the first payment for planning the wedding had come through.
It was just enough to pay off Blaze before he could make good on his threat, cover Ollie’s school trip, and take care of a few household expenses.
I wasn’t left with much afterward, but the relief was instant—a heavy weight lifted off my shoulders. For now.
Ollie raced ahead with his friend Daniel, who Valerie was also babysitting, clutching a cone of ice cream in one hand and the little paper bag holding the digital watch I’d just gotten him in the other, like someone might try to snatch it away.
I’d seen the way his eyes lit up when we passed the electronics stall, that same wild excitement that usually came out when he talked about dinosaurs.
The sleek black watch with its glowing display hadn’t exactly been in my budget, but I’d promised him a reward if he aced his math concepts.
And at the last parent teacher conference, I learnt Ollie performed exceptionally well.
Despite what it might mean for grocery money this week, seeing Ollie’s pure joy made every sacrifice worth it.
“So, how’s that cousin of yours?” Valerie asked as we walked side by side. She took a spoonful of the ice cream we were sharing and popped it into her mouth. “You know, I’m a little offended that in all the years we’ve been friends, you never once mentioned that you had a cousin.”
Suddenly, I had the urge to empty the contents of my stomach. By cousin, Valerie meant Blaze. Apparently, the son of a bitch had lied to her—told her he was my cousin when she came home from school with Ollie and found him waiting.
“Probably because he has multiple prison records, and I’m not exactly proud to call him my cousin?”
I didn't want to get into all the debt situations with Valerie.
“What was he arrested for?
“I don’t keep such insignificant information in my head.”
Valerie’s eyes narrowed. “Then we better do well to keep him away from Ollie.”
“I intend to do exactly that,” I said, my jaw tightening.
“So, how’s the wedding planning coming along? I expected all the media outlets to be buzzing from news of her engagement. I mean, everyone wants to know who Elena Moreau is getting married to.”
I shrugged, hating the thoughts and reminders of this wedding. “It’s going well,” I said simply, hoping that would end the conversation.
But, typical Valerie…she probed.
“You’ve seen him, right? The groom.”
“Yes.”
“Is he hot? Is he handsome? Is he rich—of course he is, I don’t imagine Elena Moreau would settle for less.”
I felt unease curl in my stomach. There was no way I was admitting to Valerie that Luca was hot. “He’s…exactly what you think him to be.”
Valerie caught on instantly.
“Okay, Leila…” She stuck her spoon in her cup and turned to me, brows raised. “Spill. What’s been eating at you all week?”
I shook my head before she even finished. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” She wasn’t buying it. “You’ve been crankier than usual—”
“I’m not cranky!”
“Yes, you are,” she insisted, holding up a hand to silence my protest. “Cranky, lost in thought, flushed…and sadder than I’ve seen you in months.”
“You just described a depressed person, Val.”
“Exactly my point.”
I sighed and watched Ollie point excitedly at some graffiti art, whispering something that made Daniel giggle.
I turned to Valerie, my expression serious. “Okay, Val. I’m going to tell you something, but promise me you’re not going to freak out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why would I freak out?”
“Because you can be overly dramatic sometimes.”
She shrugged. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Period.”
I took a breath, glanced around, then leaned forward and dropped my voice to a whisper. “The groom is Luca Vaughn.” The words came out as casually as I could manage, trying to seem unaffected. I was deceiving myself—I knew that.
“Luca Vaughn? Manhattan’s Pack Alpha heir Luca Vaughn? Your ex-Fated Mate? That Luca Vaughn?”
I’d told Valerie about Luca when I’d first come to the Bronx, back when I was still looking for a house. She’d been incredibly helpful, and I’d felt relief that I was finally able to talk about it with someone, considering my father was out of the question. I sighed. “That Luca Vaughn.”
Valerie’s eyes flew wide. “Holy shit!”
And here comes the drama.
“This is peak soap opera, Leila—planning the wedding of your former Mate and lover.”
I stifled a smile. “It really isn’t. It’s a normal, regular, everyday occurrence.”
She gave me a look. “No, it’s not. But tell me—how was it seeing Luca after all this time?”
I let out a small breath. “It was hard, Val. Seeing him again…it brought everything back. Things I thought I’d gotten over. I told myself I was fine, that I’d moved on. But the second our eyes met, it all came rushing back like it never left.”
Valerie leaned in, her tone softening. “Because of the Mate bond?”
I hesitated, staring down at my hands. My fingers had gone cold. “Yeah. I wish it didn’t still affect me, but it does. Even now, after everything. After he rejected me.”
She let out a low whistle. “And you still feel it?”
I nodded slowly. “Like a phantom ache. I walk into a room and if he’s in it, I know—before I see him, before I smell him. It’s like some part of me wakes up just because he’s near.”
Valerie’s expression turned thoughtful. “That’s the thing with fated mates. People don’t get it—how rare that bond is. It’s not just hormones and attraction. It’s like the universe hardwires your soul to another person’s. Rejection or not, that doesn’t just…vanish.”
“I know.” My voice cracked a little before I caught it. “I keep telling myself I’m over it. That I moved on. But seeing him again—it shook something loose.”
She watched me for a beat, then asked, carefully, “Does he know about Ollie?”
My chest went tight. “What?”
“Ollie.” Valerie tilted her head. “Is he Luca’s?”
The question sliced through the air between us. I felt my spine straighten like a shield was going up. I gave her the most neutral, unaffected shrug I could muster.
“No,” I said flatly. “He’s not.”
Valerie studied me. Not suspiciously, not like she didn’t believe me. Her face was gentle, full of quiet concern. Which made it worse.
“Okay,” she said, and didn’t push.
I looked away, suddenly engrossed in a crack on the ground. The lie sat heavy on my tongue, but I wasn’t ready to tell that truth. Not even to her. Not even to the one person who might understand.
Some things had to stay buried. At least, for now.
Elena Moreau: Can’t make it to the meeting. My Vera Wang fitting got moved up, and I’ve got a flight to catch. Priorities, you understand…or maybe you don’t. Either way, my fiancé insists the meeting goes on, so he’ll handle it. I’ve sent him your number. Try to keep things on track.
I read the message at least five times, my heart skipping a beat with each pass.
I’d already been dreading another wedding planning session with Elena and my ex-Mate.
This job was turning me into an Oscar-worthy actress.
I had to plan an unforgettable, fairytale wedding for the man who had once shattered me, while pretending I didn’t feel a damn thing.
I’d given myself a thirty-minute pep talk this morning.
You need this money. Focus on the check. Luca Vaughn doesn’t matter anymore.
But now? Now Elena was telling me she wouldn’t make it.
It was going to be just me. And Luca. Alone.
Fuck my life.
Then and there, I decided I wasn’t going to that meeting. I’d make up an excuse—car accident, sudden bathroom leak, phone fell into the sink—something, anything, to get out of it. Whatever it took to avoid sitting across from him.
Almost immediately, another message lit up my screen.
Unknown Number: Meet me at Elvis Chan’s Cafe.
I didn’t need a psychic—or a name—to know who it was.
The sheer arrogance in those seven words practically screamed Luca Vaughn. Classic him. Short. Commanding. Zero regard for context, convenience, or how anyone else might feel.
Bile crept up my throat. My blood began to boil.
Elvis Chan’s Café. It was in Manhattan. Over an hour away. A place I’d sworn never to set foot in again.
My pulse spiked. Hands trembling. What kind of game was he playing?
It wasn’t enough that he wanted me to cross boroughs—he chose that cafe.
Maybe it made sense on paper. It was right across from Vaughn Industries. Convenient for him. Logical.
But emotionally? It was a grenade.
That cafe wasn’t just a location. It was a minefield.
We used to spend hours there, tucked in the back booth like nothing else existed.
I’d introduced him to their boba tea. He used to complain that their coffee was cheap, beneath him, but the second he had one sip of brown sugar milk tea, he was hooked.
Obsessed, even. Every break, every lazy afternoon, it was always us and that booth and that tea. Like the world had paused just for us.
Now it was just another graveyard of memories I didn’t want to exhume. And now he was dragging me back.