Chapter 9: HE SHOWS UP
Ciara
Friday came faster than expected.
Dinner with Lucas was at a quiet Italian restaurant — his choice. Good wine, better conversation. He made me laugh four times before the appetizers arrived. He asked about my childhood, my grandfather, my favorite books. He listened — actually listened — like my words mattered.
"You're staring," I said, catching him mid-gaze over his wine glass.
"Guilty." He didn't look away. "Can you blame me?"
My cheeks warmed. "You're very forward."
"Life's short. I spent my twenties being strategic about everything. Now I just say what I mean." He set his glass down. "And what I mean is — you're remarkable, Ciara. Not because of your company or your name. Because of how you carry yourself after everything you've been through."
I opened my mouth to respond—
"Ciara."
That voice. Behind me. Low, rough, desperate.
I turned.
Dominic stood three feet away, looking like he hadn't slept in days. His suit was wrinkled — Dominic, who never wrinkled. Dark circles beneath his eyes. Jaw tight.
"We need to talk," he said.
Lucas leaned back in his chair, assessing. Not threatened. Curious.
"Dominic," I said evenly. "How did you know I was here?"
"That doesn't matter—"
"It absolutely matters. Did you follow me?"
His silence answered.
"You need to leave," I said.
"Five minutes. That's all I'm asking. Please." His voice broke on the last word. *Please.* A word I'd never heard Dominic Ashford use in three years of marriage.
Lucas looked at me. "Do you want me to handle this?"
"No." I placed my napkin on the table and stood. "I'll be right back."
I walked past Dominic toward the restaurant's back patio — private, empty. He followed like a shadow.
The night air was cool against my skin. I crossed my arms and faced him.
"Talk."
"I signed the papers," he said immediately. "I know I signed them. I know it's done. But Ciara — I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can't think about anything except what I did to you."
"Good."
"I'm not asking you to forgive me—"
"Good. Because I won't."
"I just need you to know that I was wrong. About everything. About hiding you. About Vanessa. About every single day I made you feel invisible." His eyes were red-rimmed. "You were the best thing in my life and I — I treated you like you were nothing."
The words hit me like waves. Each one a memory. Each one a wound I'd been trying to stitch closed.
"You're right," I said. "You did."
"Ciara—"
"And you know what the worst part is, Dominic? It wasn't the gala. It wasn't Vanessa. It was every ordinary Tuesday when you came home and looked right through me. Three years of being invisible to the person I loved."
His breath caught. "You loved me?"
I stared at him — this broken man who once held all the power.
"I did," I said quietly. "I don't anymore."
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
"Now go home, Dominic. There's nothing left for you here."
I turned and walked back inside. Back to Lucas. Back to a future without him.
But my hands were shaking the entire way.
Friday came faster than expected.
Dinner with Lucas was at a quiet Italian restaurant — his choice. Good wine, better conversation. He made me laugh four times before the appetizers arrived. He asked about my childhood, my grandfather, my favorite books. He listened — actually listened — like my words mattered.
"You're staring," I said, catching him mid-gaze over his wine glass.
"Guilty." He didn't look away. "Can you blame me?"
My cheeks warmed. "You're very forward."
"Life's short. I spent my twenties being strategic about everything. Now I just say what I mean." He set his glass down. "And what I mean is — you're remarkable, Ciara. Not because of your company or your name. Because of how you carry yourself after everything you've been through."
I opened my mouth to respond—
"Ciara."
That voice. Behind me. Low, rough, desperate.
I turned.
Dominic stood three feet away, looking like he hadn't slept in days. His suit was wrinkled — Dominic, who never wrinkled. Dark circles beneath his eyes. Jaw tight.
"We need to talk," he said.
Lucas leaned back in his chair, assessing. Not threatened. Curious.
"Dominic," I said evenly. "How did you know I was here?"
"That doesn't matter—"
"It absolutely matters. Did you follow me?"
His silence answered.
"You need to leave," I said.
"Five minutes. That's all I'm asking. Please." His voice broke on the last word. *Please.* A word I'd never heard Dominic Ashford use in three years of marriage.
Lucas looked at me. "Do you want me to handle this?"
"No." I placed my napkin on the table and stood. "I'll be right back."
I walked past Dominic toward the restaurant's back patio — private, empty. He followed like a shadow.
The night air was cool against my skin. I crossed my arms and faced him.
"Talk."
"I signed the papers," he said immediately. "I know I signed them. I know it's done. But Ciara — I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can't think about anything except what I did to you."
"Good."
"I'm not asking you to forgive me—"
"Good. Because I won't."
"I just need you to know that I was wrong. About everything. About hiding you. About Vanessa. About every single day I made you feel invisible." His eyes were red-rimmed. "You were the best thing in my life and I — I treated you like you were nothing."
The words hit me like waves. Each one a memory. Each one a wound I'd been trying to stitch closed.
"You're right," I said. "You did."
"Ciara—"
"And you know what the worst part is, Dominic? It wasn't the gala. It wasn't Vanessa. It was every ordinary Tuesday when you came home and looked right through me. Three years of being invisible to the person I loved."
His breath caught. "You loved me?"
I stared at him — this broken man who once held all the power.
"I did," I said quietly. "I don't anymore."
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
"Now go home, Dominic. There's nothing left for you here."
I turned and walked back inside. Back to Lucas. Back to a future without him.
But my hands were shaking the entire way.