Three weeks passed.
Three strange, echoing, unnatural weeks.
The world had finally stopped screaming Samantha Bradley's name.
The scandals faded. The headlines quieted.
Carter Group—now her empire—ran smoother than any analyst predicted.
Investors trusted her.
Employees admired her.
The public adored her grit.
She had everything she fought for.
And yet… the silence felt colder than the war.
Some mornings, she sat at her desk and stared out the window, unsure why the victory tasted like ash.
She told herself revenge was supposed to feel like triumph—sharp, clean, glorious.
But instead, it left a hollow ache where purpose used to be.
Jake noticed.
He always noticed.
He began watching her the same way he did years ago—when she was still Ally Miller bleeding on a hospital floor, her world destroyed.
One evening, as she closed her laptop later than usual, Jake leaned in her doorway, arms crossed, expression soft and unreadable.
"You need air," he said.
