Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
" Merde indeed," I agreed, my mind whirling. The peaceful evening had vanished, replaced by a storm of emotions I wasn't prepared to weather.
What the actual hell was Evan doing here? The question echoed in my mind as I steeled myself to face a past I thought I'd left behind. The renovated estate suddenly felt like a fa?ade, my newfound sense of belonging as fragile as the peeling paint we'd been stripping away.
“Should I—” Remi started.
I sighed. “I have no idea.”
He nodded. “Right. I am going to run back to my place to take care of some things. Just let me know—let me know if you need anything.”
I smiled gratefully.
As I followed Colette inside, Remi a solid presence at my back, I couldn't shake the feeling that my carefully constructed new life was about to be turned upside down.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I slowly walked back into the house. At the doorway, Colette caught me, her hands settling on my shoulders like a steadying anchor in a storm.
"Take a breath, chérie ," she said softly. "It is all going to be all right."
I nodded, fighting back a surge of tears. What kind of tears? I wasn't even sure. Anxious tears, I supposed. The question echoed in my mind: What the hell was Evan doing here? I was in the middle of nowhere, Provence. How had he even found me?
Taking a deep, shaky breath that tasted of lavender and tension, I followed Colette into the sitting room. As I stepped in, the sight of him there still punched me in the gut. Part of me had been clinging to the hope that it was all a mistake—some other Evan, perhaps a local inspector here to survey the piping. But no, there he was, as smug as ever—the man who had ruined my life, sitting in my family's estate as if he belonged there. The sheer audacity made anger swell inside me, hot and fierce.
"What are you doing here?" The words shot out, sharp and harsh, but I couldn't bring myself to care. This intrusion was beyond the pale.
Evan's lips curled into that infuriatingly familiar smile. "That's not much of a greeting. But it's nice to see you too, Elodie. You look good."
I shook my head, folding my arms tightly across my chest as if I could physically hold in the tumult of emotions threatening to spill over. I turned toward Colette, who nodded politely, understanding passing between us without words.
"Let me know if you need anything, d'accord ?" She smiled, nodding at Evan with practiced politeness before gliding away.
When she was out of earshot, I whirled back to Evan, fixing him with a glare that could have curdled milk.
"Cut the formal shit, Evan. Start talking."
He held up his hands defensively, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. "Sorry. I know, I shouldn't have just shown up like this."
A harsh, humorless laugh escaped me. "No, you shouldn't have. So why don't you start explaining why you did? And how did you even find me?"
"You left this address with the lawyers."
My mouth tightened, jaw clenching. "Right. The lawyers." The words dripped with bitterness. How dare he bring up the lawyers? How dare he be here at all? All the anger I thought I'd let go of over the past couple of months came bubbling up to the surface—everything I had lost, everything he'd put me through.
"Will you just explain why you're here?" I snapped. "I'm busy."
"Busy with—"
"None of your goddamn business!"
"Okay, sorry. You might want to sit down."
A sinking feeling gnawed at my gut, but I nodded curtly and took a seat on the sofa opposite him. "Okay. Talk."
His fingers drummed nervously on his knee, a tell I remembered all too well. "The business. Elodie’s Natural Life.”
Tightness bloomed in my gut. "Yes?" I said tightly, hating the way the words sounded on his lips.
"There's—there's a lawsuit."
I blinked, staring at him in astonishment, not sure I was understanding. "What are you talking about?"
He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "One of the investors—she's threatening to sue."
"For what?" My voice rose, sharp with disbelief.
"For fraud."
I choked, the word hitting me like a physical blow. "What?"
At least Evan had the decency to look sheepish. "The financial situation we got ourselves in—well, I might not have been entirely transparent about some of the... details."
A clipped, incredulous laugh escaped me. "Details? Just that tiny little thing. You never were very good at the details, were you, Evan?"
"I know. And I'm so sorry, El."
The old nickname stung, a reminder of happier times now tainted. "What exactly happened? What are we facing here?"
"She wants her investment back."
"But that's not exactly how it works," I said, grasping at straws. "I mean, you invest in companies at your own risk. That’s VC 101.”
He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Right. Exactly. Only she's claiming we fudged the numbers. That she was misled about what she was getting into."
My heart raced, mouth going dry. "And did we? Fudge the numbers?” I barely managed to eke out the words.
Evan wouldn't meet my eye as he gave the slightest nod.
"Dammit, Evan!" I exploded. "How could you?"
"Because, Elodie, we were in big trouble. We were bleeding money. Your business model—it wasn't sustainable!"
"But investor fraud is?" I pressed a hand to my forehead, feeling a headache mounting. "I can't believe this."
"I wasn't trying to—it just got out of hand. I thought we’d earn it back before anyone was the wiser. I believed in your vision, El. In your dream. I knew it would succeed if we just had enough time.”
The room spun. Of course, he wasn't done with this. Of course, he wasn't done ruining my life. I sighed, suddenly exhausted. "Well, it's not my business anymore so I don’t see how this is my problem.”
"It's not that simple, Elodie. You know that. You're an intelligent woman."
I tilted my head, eyes narrowing. "Oh, am I? You think that now, do you? After you tried to screw me out of something that I built?"
"El, we've been through this. I financed that business."
"But it was my idea!" I slapped a hand against my chest, voice rising. "You stole my idea, my dream!" I felt like I was going to be sick, the room spinning around me. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not when I was finally starting to rebuild. To move on.
"I understand you're still angry. I get it."
I laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. "Right. Sure. Angry.”
"But we have to put that aside to deal with this. We have bigger problems now than your anger.”
I shook my head, desperation creeping in. "I still don't understand how this is my problem. We don't own the company anymore."
"But we did when she made the investment."
"I wasn't the one who lied!"
He looked me square in the eye, his gaze unwavering. "Yes, but you were the CEO. You're on the hook for this as much as I am."
My lip quivered as I forced out the question, "What is she asking for?"
When Evan named the figure, my blood ran cold. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. "I don't—I mean, we lost everything. I'm trying to keep myself afloat here, Evan, but I don't have that kind of money."
Evan sighed, his eyes darting about the room, taking in the renovations, the antique furniture, the unmistakable signs of wealth.
"It would seem—well, it looks like maybe the situation has picked up for you."
"No," I whispered, realization dawning. "This can't—I can't sell it."
He turned back to me, meeting my gaze. "You might have to."
I felt something crack inside me, a fissure running right down to my core. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, my entire body went numb. Was this what shock felt like? The room seemed to recede, sounds becoming muffled and distant. The life I'd been piecing together, the sense of belonging I'd finally found—it was all threatening to crumble around me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
"I don't understand, Evan. Why are you here? I mean, yes, I realize you came to tell me this. But this could've been done over a phone call or an email or a goddamn text message!" I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as my rage threatened a violent takeover.
"I know. And I'm sure that would've been your preference. But I was in Nice. And I thought, hey, maybe this is the kind of news that I should deliver in person."
I stopped short, my brain catching on that detail. "Nice? Why are you in Nice?” On second thought, it was none of my business. But now, of course, curiosity gnawed at me. How did he happen to end up just a couple of hours from where I was?
"Just on a little vacation." The way his eyes averted from mine, shifting uneasily, told me everything I needed to know.
"Oh. With whom?" I asked, my voice dripping with false sweetness. He looked painfully uncomfortable, and that made my stomach turn over again. I guess I didn't think it was unreasonable that he might be seeing somebody, but flying all the way to France with someone? It seemed a little soon to be so serious.
"No one. Just a friend," Evan said, his discomfort palpable.
I crossed my arms, fixing him with a steely gaze. "Who? You're being weird."
"Do you really want to know, Elodie?"
"Normally, no, I wouldn't. But the fact that you're being cagey as hell leads me to say yes, I would very much like to know."
He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. Beth."
I nearly choked on air. "Beth? As in, my friend Beth? As in our sales manager Beth?"
He nodded, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. I noticed his hair was a little overgrown, longer than he normally liked it. Did Beth like it that way? The thought made me feel slightly ill.
"Elodie, I—"
I raised my hand to cut him off, my voice ice-cold. "I don't care, Evan. Honestly, I don't. I hope you and Beth live happily ever after, ruining my company and my life."
At least he had the dignity not to defend himself.
"And now I don't want to talk about it. In fact, I don't want to talk to you at all. Send me the information, and I will have my lawyer look it over. I'm not going to just take your word for it here in my sitting room."
He nodded curtly, then his eyes swept around the room, curiosity evident in his expression. "On the subject of sitting rooms, what the actual hell is going on here?"
The change of subject caught me off guard. "What?"
He gestured around the room. "Since when do you own a villa or whatever this is in the south of France?"
I crossed my arms, a smirk tugging at my lips. "We prefer to call it a chateau ."
He stared at me, dumbfounded for a moment, and then laughed. "Okay. Since when do you own a French chateau ?"
"It's none of your business. And there's literally no way you can get your hands on any of it." I felt my resolve strengthen, a surge of protectiveness washing over me.
He held up his hands defensively. "Jesus, Elodie. I'm not evil. I didn't come here to see what I can squeeze out of you. I'm just curious. I still…you know I still care about you."
I laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. "No, you don't get to say that after everything you've done. When you care about someone, you don't treat them the way you treated me."
"Fair. I deserve that."
"You do. But, I'll be the bigger person. If you must know, this was my grandfather's house. He recently passed away, and he left it to me."
Evan's eyes went wide. I'm guessing right about now, he really regretted breaking up with me. The thought gave me a tiny, petty thrill of satisfaction.
"So, what? You're moving to France?" he asked incredulously.
I said nothing. Truthfully, I didn't know what to say. My plans were still as nebulous as the morning mist that clung to the vineyards.
"What my plans are have nothing to do with you. So, really, I don't feel like sharing them with you."
The door opened a crack, and Colette peeked her head through. It could've been intrusive, but honestly, her timing felt perfect.
"Pardon the intrusion, but I was wondering if you wanted refreshment? Perhaps a glass of wine or some snacks?"
Both Evan and I nodded enthusiastically and said in unison, "Yes!"
As Colette disappeared to fetch our drinks, I felt some of the tension drain from my shoulders. The promise of wine—good, French wine—was like a lifeline in this sea of uncomfortable confrontation.
“Is she, like, your maid?” Evan said.
I rolled my eyes and didn’t dignify the question.
When she returned, I accepted the glass gratefully, taking a long sip and letting the rich flavor wash over my tongue. I managed to calm down. What was the point of being so angry, anyway? It didn't change what happened. It wasn't doing me any favors. I needed to let it go. And I thought I was well on my way to doing so until Evan walked in here and ripped open my wounds. Why couldn't he just let me be? It wasn't fair.
I could hear my mother's voice in the distance, lecturing me as she had so many times before. Life is never fair, Elodie!
"Should I plan on you staying for dinner then?" Colette asked Evan.
I opened my mouth to instantly protest. No, there was no way he was staying for dinner. But before I could get the words out, Evan's smooth voice cut through the air.
"That would be so wonderful," he said, all charm and grace. It was that same tone of voice he used when we were trying to drum up funding for the business. He was one of those people you couldn't say no to, his charisma as potent as it was infuriating.
"Are you sure you don't have to be getting back to Nice?" I said through gritted teeth, hoping he'd take the hint.
He shook his head. "No, I had actually planned on staying in the village for the night. And I certainly wouldn't mind a home-cooked meal in a French chateau ."
"This isn't Disneyland," I said, my tone sharp.
"Well, obviously, if it bothers you, Elodie. I wouldn't want to ruin anything."
I heard the challenge in his voice, and I was not going to let him win this round. I forced myself to smile, though it felt more like baring my teeth.
"Of course. I'm more than happy to host you. I wouldn't want you left to your own devices now. I know how bad you are at that."
He smiled back, but it didn't meet his eyes. The air between us crackled with unspoken tension. En garde, indeed.
As Colette bustled off to prepare dinner, I steeled myself for what was to come, determined not to let Evan's presence derail the progress I was making here. This place was my sanctuary, and I wasn't about to let him taint it with his presence. Let the games begin, I thought, raising my glass in a silent, defiant toast.