The air inside Crimson Bar was warm, scented faintly with aged wine and wood polish. The low hum of midday chatter made it easy to disappear in plain sight. Perfect.

Kelvin spotted Elena at the corner booth, her back to the wall, eyes already tracking him the moment he entered. She looked calm, collected—but he could read the tension in her shoulders, the stiffness in her posture. She hadn’t touched the water in front of her.

She was waiting for answers.

He slid into the booth opposite her, nodding once and that was it.

“You came,” she said, as if she hadn’t been sure he would.

“I said I would.”...