Ava had been looking forward to this date for a week.

Jason set the phone face-up on the table between them.

"She's been outside," Ava said.

"For how long, I don't know."

They both looked toward the window.

The pavement was empty now, rain moving in thin sheets under the streetlight.

"She's gone," Ava said.

"She sent it to make sure I knew she was watching." He picked the phone back up.

"She wants me rattled."

"Are you?"

He thought about it honestly.

"No.

But I'm angry."

He forwarded the photo to Grace with a single line: *Sent from her personal number.

Timestamp.

Add it.*

"She just connected herself directly to the surveillance," Ava said.

"That photo came from her phone, her number, with a caption she wrote."

"Grace will have it documented within the hour." He set the phone down.

"Diane has been careful up until now.

Using the holding company, routing things through Marcus, keeping her name off the investor calls.

This—" he gestured at the phone "—this was emotion.

She saw us through the window and she reacted."

"She's been watching long enough to know Marcus called me."

"Which means she knows the plan is unraveling." He looked at Ava.

"I'm sorry you're in the middle of this."

"I walked into it with my eyes open," she said.

"Somewhere around the second text message."

"You could have put the phone down."

"I could have." She met his eyes.

"I didn't want to."

He was quiet for a moment.

"Why not?"

"Because she was trying to use me to get to you, and I didn't think that was fair." She paused.

"And because I was curious."

"About what?"

"About whether you were who she said you were, or who you seemed to be."

"And?"

"The jury's still out," she said.

"But it's leaning."

Something in him relaxed — not dramatically, just a quiet settling, like a door finding its frame.

He picked up his phone one more time and called Grace.

"I need everything ready for tomorrow morning," he said.

"The holding company documents, the investor call records, the two phone numbers Ava sent earlier, and the photo that just came through." A pause.

"Yes, all of it.

I want Marcus to see the full picture when he walks in.

Not as an accusation — as information." Another pause.

"Thank you, Grace."

He ended the call and looked at Ava.

"She says she'll have a clean file by seven a.m."

"What will you do with it?"

"Show Marcus.

Let him decide what kind of man he wants to be." He folded his hands on the table.

"He didn't know.

I believe that.

But he'll have to choose now — his sister or a clean deal.

I can't make that choice for him."

"What if he chooses her?"

"Then I lose the building and find another one." His voice was steady.

"The restaurant survived year three without that building.

It'll survive this."

Ava looked at him for a long moment.

"You're not afraid of losing it."

"I'm not afraid of losing things I built," he said.

"I'm careful about them.

That's different."

The rain had softened to almost nothing.

The coffee shop was closing around them — a staff member was turning chairs onto tables at the far end of the room, working quietly, not rushing them.

"I should go," Ava said.

"I'll get you a cab."

"I can manage—"

"I know you can." He was already standing, reaching for his jacket.

"Let me anyway."

They stepped outside.

The air smelled of rain and cold pavement.

Jason raised his hand and a cab pulled over within a minute.

He opened the door for her.

"Tomorrow," he said.

"After the meeting with Marcus.

Can I call you?"

Ava looked at him.

The evening had started with a check and a misunderstanding and had traveled through a note, two phones, a photograph, and a brother's confession.

"Yes," she said.

"You can call me."

She got in.

The cab pulled away.

She looked back once through the rear window.

He was still standing on the pavement, watching the cab go, hands in his pockets, the way he'd been standing when she first walked out of the restaurant.

She faced forward.

Her phone buzzed.

One final message from Diane's number.