The penthouse sat high above the city, towering past skyscrapers, its windows stretching from floor to ceiling.
Night had fallen, but the lights inside weren't bright. Samantha Bradley preferred shadows. The kind that softened the marble floors and caught in the glass like quiet reflections of things you couldn't quite name.
She stood by the window now, dressed in a matte black silk robe cinched neatly at her waist. Her hair was tied back in a low, sleek ponytail, diamond-stud earrings glimmering faintly in the low light.
Below her, the city looked like a field of stars.
Jake sat on the deep charcoal-gray sofa behind her, elbows resting on his knees, a tumbler of whiskey balanced in one hand. No ice. No rush.
Silence hung between them—not awkward, just heavy. Comfortable in a way most people didn't understand.
"You're quiet tonight," Jake said finally, his voice low, steady.
Samantha didn't turn around.
"I'm thinking," she answered simply.
Jake gave a faint smile. "That's what I was afraid of."
Her reflection caught in the window glass—sharp, poised, unbothered.
"I sent out the invitations," she said after a moment, voice calm. "Carter Group, Elevate's next phase... it's all in motion now."
Jake swirled the glass once in his hand. "And they don't have a clue who's pulling the strings."
Samantha's lips curved slightly—no more than a whisper of a smile.
"That's the idea."
She finally turned, walking toward him with quiet, unhurried steps. Bare feet on marble floors, the silk of her robe shifting like liquid.
When she reached the sofa, she didn't sit immediately. She stood in front of him, looking down, one eyebrow raised slightly.
"Second thoughts?" she asked.
Jake tilted his glass in her direction. "About what?"
"About them."
Jake's gaze didn't waver. "I made my choice the minute I walked back into your life."
Samantha's expression didn't change, but her eyes flickered—just for a second—like she'd clocked something too quickly to let it show fully.
She sank down onto the sofa beside him, legs folding neatly beneath her, robe falling open slightly at the knee. Controlled elegance, even here in private.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Only the sound of the city below, muffled by distance and glass.
Finally, Jake set his glass down on the low marble coffee table in front of them.
"Tomorrow changes everything," he said.
Samantha's voice was quieter now. Almost reflective.
"Not everything," she corrected softly. "Only what needs to be changed."
Jake studied her for a long moment, leaning back against the sofa's cushions now, arm stretched lazily along the top. The tattoo on his forearm caught in the light—a quiet reminder of past lives neither of them spoke about much.
"You've really thought all of this through," Jake murmured.
Samantha didn't answer. She didn't have to.
She stood again, walking over to the sleek bar set into one corner of the penthouse. The shelves behind it held vintage crystal decanters, each lined up like art. She poured herself a glass of red wine—one pour, precise, no waste.
When she returned to the window, she stood there again, glass in hand.
"Do you ever miss it?" Jake asked suddenly.
Samantha tilted her head slightly, eyes never leaving the skyline. "Miss what?"
"The simpler life. When it wasn't about companies and money and reputations."
Her laugh was so soft it almost wasn't a laugh at all.
"I was never meant for simple," she said.
Jake didn't argue. He just watched her, taking in every detail—her posture, her silence, the weight she carried like it wasn't weight at all.
"You really believe no one will see this coming?" he asked quietly.
Samantha turned back toward him now, one brow raised in that cool, signature way of hers.
"They won't," she said. "Not until it's already done."
Her voice was calm. Deadly calm.
Jake picked up his glass again, tipping it toward her in silent agreement.
"Then here's to tomorrow," he said.
Samantha's lips curved again—this time, just slightly wider.
"To tomorrow," she echoed softly.
And with that, the penthouse settled back into silence. No panic. No noise.
Only quiet power waiting for the right moment to move.