"Lynn, is the Carter report ready?"
Samantha's voice, calm but precise, carried through the glass walls of her office. Morning light poured across the sleek marble floors, bouncing off chrome accents and the city skyline outside. Elevate's headquarters was a temple of power — and Samantha Bradley, its untouchable goddess.
"Yes, ma'am." Lynn's voice came out softer than usual, her hands trembling slightly as she stacked a few folders. The usual efficiency was there — polished, disciplined — but the subtle shake in her fingers didn't escape Samantha's sharp eyes.
As Lynn placed the documents on the desk, her phone vibrated. Just once. A quick buzz.
Samantha didn't move. She was still signing papers, but her gaze flicked — one precise glance — as Lynn's hand darted to silence her phone. The screen flashed briefly before going dark: Evan (2 missed calls).
Samantha's pen paused for half a heartbeat. Then, quietly:
"You can take a break, Lynn."
Lynn blinked, startled. "Oh— I'm fine, ma'am, really. I just—"
"Take a break," Samantha repeated gently this time, her tone like silk but leaving no room for argument.
Lynn hesitated before slipping out. As the door closed behind her, Samantha exhaled softly, tapping her pen against the table.
Her assistant was loyal, diligent — almost too devoted. But the cracks were beginning to show.
And Samantha knew better than anyone: cracks, if ignored, always led to collapse.
---
In the hallway, Lynn leaned against the cool marble wall, clutching her phone. Her brother's voice echoed in her mind from their last call.
"Lynn, they're threatening to liquidate the company. I'll lose everything. Please… just talk to her. You work for her. Maybe she can help—"
She had cut him off. "No, Evan. Samantha doesn't get involved in personal rescues. You know how she is."
"You don't understand. They'll take the factory, the patents, everything—"
The call ended, but his desperation lingered like a ghost in her ear. Lynn closed her eyes. She couldn't ask Samantha. Not her. The woman was kind in rare moments, yes — but she was also steel. And steel didn't bend.
---
Back inside, Samantha stood by the window, watching the morning traffic stream below. Her reflection stared back — poised, composed — but her thoughts were anything but calm.
Lynn was slipping. Not yet enough to worry, but enough to watch.
"I don't lose people," she murmured to herself, "not unless they choose to be lost."
---
Hours later, a knock at her door broke her focus. Lynn peeked in, her composure restored. "Mr. Carter is here to see you."
Samantha's pen froze mid-signature. Her gaze lifted, expression unreadable. "Send him in."
Nick Carter entered a few seconds later — tall, confident, but carrying that quiet storm in his eyes. He looked like a man wearing control like a too-tight suit.
"Samantha," he greeted with polite ease, though his voice carried tension. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
She gestured to the seat opposite her. "You usually are. Sit down."
He smiled faintly despite himself. "Still the same sharp tongue."
"Comes with the position," she said smoothly. "Now, what can Elevate do for Carter Group today?"
"Actually…" He hesitated, studying her. "I came to discuss the ongoing financing terms. But maybe we could talk off the record, for a moment."
"Off the record?" She leaned back, one eyebrow raised. "That sounds personal."
"Maybe it is."
The air between them shifted, taut and charged.
Nick took a slow breath. "Last night, I kept thinking about the gala. You and Marcus Reed. The media can't stop talking."
Samantha's expression didn't change. "They love to invent stories when the truth bores them."
Nick's jaw flexed. "So what's the truth?"
She tilted her head slightly. "The truth, Mr. Carter, is that Elevate and Reed Global may collaborate on future projects — and that's all."
He held her gaze. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to believe whatever serves you best," she replied coolly.
For a moment, neither spoke. The tension was thicker than the silence.
Then — her pen slipped from her fingers. It clattered softly onto the floor.
Nick automatically bent to pick it up. His fingers brushed the engraved surface. The letters were small but distinct — A.M.
His breath caught. Slowly, he lifted his gaze back to her.
Samantha's eyes met his — calm, composed, but something flickered there, too fast to name.
"This pen…" he began. "These initials—"
"It was a gift," she interrupted, her tone soft but steady. "From someone I buried long ago."
The words hit him like a blow. His grip tightened around the pen. "You buried?"
She smiled faintly, reclaiming it from his hand. "Some ghosts deserve to stay in the ground."
But he wasn't convinced. He couldn't look away from her — from that pen, from those letters, from the way her voice trembled just slightly when she said buried.
He cleared his throat, trying to ground himself. "You really have changed."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Not bad," he said quietly. "Just… painful to watch."
She didn't respond. Her silence said everything.
Nick exhaled and stood. "Thank you for your time, Samantha."
"Anytime, Mr. Carter."
But as he turned to leave, she added, "Oh, and Nick?"
He stopped.
"Be careful," she said, voice soft but laced with warning. "The next move you make — in business or otherwise — might just be your last chance to recover."
His eyes darkened. "Is that a threat?"
She smiled. "A reminder."
And then she was already back to her paperwork, as though the conversation had never happened.
Nick lingered at the door, torn between suspicion and something deeper — something he didn't want to name.
As he left, Lynn entered again, holding another folder — but her face looked pale. Samantha noticed instantly.
"Lynn," she said without looking up. "Tell your brother that drowning men don't get rescued by those who learned to swim through fire."
Lynn froze, color draining from her face.
Samantha finally met her eyes — not coldly, but not kindly either. "Next time, don't hide desperation. It attracts sharks."
"Yes, ma'am," Lynn whispered, voice trembling.
When she was gone, Samantha leaned back, eyes drifting to the skyline.
Nick's expression. The pen. Lynn's fear.
The ghosts were starting to stir again.