Serena turned to look at Cole.
He hadn't reacted to Vanessa's comment at all. He was still eating, relaxed and unhurried, as though he hadn't heard a word.
Something about that made Serena curious.
"I don't get that impression from Mr. Harmon at all," she said to Vanessa, keeping her tone pleasant. "Are you sure there isn't some misunderstanding?"
Vanessa's voice went up a notch, the rehearsed warmth dropping away.
"Ms. Park, we were classmates for four years. I know him better than anyone does. He's broke, he's a fraud, and his character is genuinely terrible. I'm telling you this for your own benefit — don't let him take advantage of you."
Cole set his fork down, picked up his napkin, and wiped the corner of his mouth without any particular hurry.
"Ms. Vale," he said, "I've already made myself clear tonight. I'm not interested. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop following me around and stop making things up about me."
"Following you?" Vanessa let out a short, contemptuous laugh. "Please. Why would I waste my time chasing someone like you? You can't prove a single thing I've said is false."
Cole took out his phone, found the recording, and pressed play at full volume.
*"Cole, will you be my boyfriend?"*
Vanessa's voice, clear as anything, filled the space around their table.
She went completely still. Her mouth opened slightly and nothing came out. She had not considered that he would record it. The whole evening had been constructed around the assumption that Cole would behave the way Cole always behaved — flustered, grateful, easily managed.
She wanted to disappear.
"Ms. Vale." Serena's voice was polite but final. Several nearby tables had noticed the exchange, and she had no interest in letting it continue. "Mr. Harmon and I are in the middle of a conversation. Please enjoy the rest of your meal."
"Ms. Park, it really isn't what it—"
"Please enjoy the rest of your meal."
Vanessa looked at Cole. Cole looked back at her with an expression that contained no particular feeling at all.
She turned and walked back to her table, her face burning.
---
Serena watched her go, then turned back with a small smile at the corner of her mouth.
"Mr. Harmon, your standards are quite high. That woman is objectively stunning. Most men wouldn't have the composure to turn her down."
Cole let out a quiet breath.
"Some people look one way on the outside and are something else entirely underneath. It's easier to just keep your distance."
"Sounds like there's history there."
"Nothing worth talking about. Just a run of bad luck I'd rather not revisit."
Serena laughed softly. "Men who can't be swayed by a pretty face are rarer than you'd think. That's worth something."
Cole set his napkin down. "Thank you for dinner, Ms. Park. It was genuinely excellent. I should get going."
He rose. Serena rose with him and walked him to the entrance herself.
---
Outside, the night air hit him warm and thick. Crestfield in summer didn't cool down after dark — it just became a slightly less aggressive version of itself.
Cole looked up. The sky was clear, and he could actually see stars for once.
He started walking, and after a moment he realized he was smiling.
He understood the math clearly. For most people, building something from nothing was slow, grinding work. But he wasn't starting from nothing — he was starting with ten years of information that nobody else had. Every mistake he had already made and paid for, every trick that had been used against him, every opportunity he had watched pass by because he hadn't understood what he was looking at.
Derek Harrington and Vanessa would both answer for what they'd done. He was certain of that. He just needed time and ground to stand on first.
His phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
*Mom.*
He answered immediately. "Hey, Mom."
"Have you eaten, sweetheart?" Her voice was exactly as he remembered it — warm and a little worried, the way it always was.
Cole's throat tightened before he could stop it. "Yeah. I had a good meal tonight actually."
"Your voice sounds off."
She had always been able to do that. He took a breath and adjusted.
"Slight cold. I already took something for it, it's fine. Is Dad around?"
"He's right here—"
A shuffle, and then his father's voice came on, dry and familiar.
"You never ask for me when you call. What's the occasion? Out of money?"
Cole laughed, just once, but it cost him more than he expected.
"No, Dad. Just — smoke less. Drink less. Don't push yourself too hard, and sleep properly. I can't be there keeping an eye on you, so I need you to do it yourselves. If anything feels wrong, you call me. Okay?"
A pause on the other end.
"Getting sentimental on me..." His father's voice had gone slightly uncertain. "You sure you're not out of money?"
His mother came back on. "Old Harmon, leave him alone. Our son is growing up. That's a good thing."
Cole breathed carefully for a moment.
In his previous life, his parents had given everything they had saved to help him cover the down payment on the apartment. They had done it quietly, without complaint. And then Vanessa had looked down on them — farmers, she'd said once, not quite quietly enough — and to avoid making things worse between Cole and his wife, they had stopped visiting. They had kept working well past retirement, sending money when they could, wearing themselves down to help him carry a life that had been rigged against him from the start.
He hadn't known. He hadn't understood what they were doing, or what it had cost them.
He wasn't going to let that happen again.
He talked to his mother for another ten minutes — groceries, weather, a neighbor's new dog — and let her remind him three times to eat properly before finally saying goodnight.
---
The walk back was easy. The streets were familiar in the particular way that things are familiar when you haven't seen them in years — the same, but slightly smaller than you remember, the details sharper than nostalgia usually allows.
He hadn't lived in this part of the city for long in his previous life. After things moved quickly with Vanessa, he had relocated to be closer to her, and this neighborhood had simply dropped out of his life. He had spent a decade in Crestfield without ever coming back here.
He stopped in front of his building.
It was an older complex — seven six-story walk-ups built sometime in the eighties, showing their age but holding together reasonably well. The shared areas were clean. The rent was the main selling point, which at this stage of his life was the only selling point that mattered. He had just graduated, he was working at a small firm with a modest salary, and the future was still something he was supposed to be figuring out.
Except he already knew exactly how it was supposed to go, and he had no intention of letting it.
He climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
The first thing that reached him was the smell — something clean and lightly floral, the kind that clings to a room after someone's just showered.
He looked up.
A woman was walking out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her wet hair falling loose over her shoulders. The towel was short enough to make the fact of her height and the length of her legs immediately apparent. She moved without any particular awareness of the impression she was making, which somehow made it worse.
Cole stood in the doorway and went very still.