Chapter 129: Sara Is Back!?
Liam checked the time on his phone as they pulled onto the main road. “We might have to skip the tattoo shop. We’re cutting it close on time if we want to actually enjoy the rest of the day too.”
Darren shrugged from the passenger seat, unbothered. “It’s fine. We can do it some other time. Not going anywhere.”
From the backseat, Mateo perked up immediately. “Wait, can I get one too?”
Liam glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because Sophia would actually kill me. Not exaggerating. She would end my life if you came home with a tattoo.”
“I could get it somewhere she wouldn’t see it,” Mateo said, entirely serious. “Like my ribs or something.”
“You’re sixteen.” Liam fired back.
“So?”
“So no.” Liam shot a glance at Darren, who was staring out the window like he had nothing to do with any of this. “Don’t just sit there. Back me up.”
Darren held up both hands. “I haven’t said a single word about the tattoo.”
“That’s not backing me up, that’s staying suspiciously neutral.” Liam pointed out.
“I’m choosing my battles.”
“You’re choosing to let a sixteen-year-old get inked.”
“I didn’t say that either.” Darren smirked. “I’m just saying — his ribs, huh. Smart placement, honestly.”
“Darren!”
“I’m not encouraging it. I’m complimenting his strategic thinking.”
Mateo grinned from the backseat, delighted at having at least one adult mildly on his side, and Liam shook his head, letting the conversation drop before it went any further off the rails.
They made a stop not long after at a restaurant Liam had been wanting to try for a while — Le Voisin, tucked into a quieter stretch of the city, the kind of place with a reservation list longer than its menu and prices that matched the exterior’s understated marble finish.
They walked in together, an odd little trio that didn’t quite match — Liam in his fitted jacket, Darren still dressed casual with his sleeves pushed up, and Mateo trailing slightly behind them both, eyes wide, taking in the space like he’d stepped into a museum rather than a restaurant.
“Table for three,” Liam told the host, and requested the private corner booth without hesitation — the most expensive seating in the house, because at this point, why not.
They were led through the dining room, and Liam caught the way Mateo’s eyes tracked everything — the chandeliers, the hushed conversations at other tables, the sheer scale of the place. He looked overwhelmed, and it was easy to understand why. A meal here likely cost more than anything Sophia spent on groceries in a month, and there was no version of Mateo’s life so far that had ever put him in a room like this.
“You good?” Liam asked, sliding into the booth.
“Yeah,” Mateo said, though his voice carried a note of disbelief. “This place is insane.”
“Get whatever you want off the menu.”
Mateo’s eyes went wide again, scanning the prices this time. “…Whatever I want?”
“Whatever you want.”
Darren smirked, already flipping his own menu open. “Kid’s gonna order the most expensive thing just to test you.”
“Let him.”
Mateo grinned, already scanning for exactly that.
–
Sara stepped off the plane into the thick, familiar heat of an American afternoon, and the first thing she registered was how little she’d actually missed it. France had spoiled her in ways she hadn’t fully appreciated until this exact moment — the air here felt heavier, louder somehow, even standing still in an airport terminal.
She hadn’t told Arthur her flight details. Not the airline, not the arrival time, nothing. If he wanted to track her down, he could work for it like everyone else.
She pulled out her phone while waiting for her bags and scrolled through Instagram out of habit, landing on Liam’s profile before she’d even consciously decided to check it.
New posts. Multiple, actually — story updates, a couple of new photos on it as well, none of it matching the barren, three-year-old profile she remembered from before everything fell apart. Something had shifted in him. She could see it in the way he was presenting himself now, more curated, more visible.
“Interesting.”
She pocketed the phone as she exited the terminal, and that was when she saw it — parked directly at the curb, ignoring every posted rule about loading zones, a matte black Lamborghini with a driver standing beside it in a fitted suit.
She slowed her steps, taking it in.
“Ms. Sara?” the driver asked, stepping forward to take her bag.
“That’s me.”
She glanced at the car again, genuinely impressed despite herself. People liked to whisper that she was a gold digger, chasing money wherever it pooled thickest, but standing here now, she found herself wondering exactly how deep this particular well actually ran. Liam’s money, whatever it currently amounted to, wasn’t close to this. Not yet, anyway.
Which begged an obvious question — what exactly was her relationship with Arthur, underneath all the professional distance they maintained in public.
Her phone buzzed as she climbed into the back seat.
[Arthur: Welcome back. Hope the flight was comfortable.]
She smiled to herself, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before she typed back.
[Sara: You didn’t have to.]
[Arthur: I know. Wanted to.]
She set the phone down in her lap, watching the city blur past the tinted window, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her mouth.
He hadn’t lost his touch. That much was clear.
The driver glanced at her briefly through the rearview mirror. “Mr. Arthur said to take you wherever you’d like first, ma’am. Home, or somewhere else?”
Sara considered it for a moment, still turning the last few minutes over in her head — the car, the message, the timing of it all arriving with a precision that felt less like coincidence and more like surveillance.
“Home,” she said finally. “I need to unpack a few things before I get back into all this.”
“Of course.”
She looked back out the window, already thinking three steps ahead, the way she always did.