Elena let out a cold laugh. “Mr. Chandler knows exactly who you are—he just doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

She stretched lazily, every movement slow and unhurried.

“Remember a few years ago?” she continued. “While you were off enjoying life overseas, the Chandlers ran into trouble. They called you, and you couldn’t even spare them a minute.”

The incident was so far in the past that Wren had already forgotten it.

“Did that really happen?” he asked awkwardly.

Elena rolled her eyes. “Your memory’s impressive—you conveniently erase anything that makes you look bad.”

Wren took the criticism without snapping back like he used to.