The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Nick Carter stepped into Elevate Strategic Group's headquarters, his presence drawing immediate attention. He was dressed impeccably, but there was something unsteady in his stride — a storm barely contained behind his calm exterior.
The receptionist greeted him politely, but he didn't respond. He already knew where he was going. Straight to her.
Samantha Bradley's office.
The glass doors parted as he entered, revealing her standing by the tall windows, bathed in the soft afternoon light. The skyline stretched behind her, the city humming below — yet she stood perfectly still, a statue of control.
"Mr. Carter," she said without turning around. "No appointment today? I'm flattered."
Nick's voice was low, rough. "Cut the act, Samantha."
Her gaze flicked toward him briefly, then back to the view. "You seem tense. Trouble at home?"
"Don't do that," he said sharply. "Don't turn everything into a game." He stepped closer, the distance between them charged. "I've had enough of the headlines, the board meetings, the whispers. I want the truth."
"The truth?" she repeated softly, turning fully to face him now. "That's a dangerous thing to ask for, Nick. Most people don't survive it."
His jaw clenched. "Who are you really?"
The words hung in the air — raw, trembling with both fear and recognition.
Samantha tilted her head slightly, studying him. For a moment, her expression softened — something human flickering beneath the frost. Then she smiled faintly, the kind of smile that cut deeper than anger.
"The truth wouldn't set you free, Nick," she said quietly. "It would destroy you."
His breath hitched, his resolve cracking. "Why do I feel like I've known you before?"
"Because guilt has a long memory," she replied.
They stood close enough for him to see the faint shimmer of her perfume, to feel the heat between them. His hand twitched — as if drawn by instinct — reaching for her cheek. But at the last moment, he stopped himself. His fingers hovered near her skin, trembling, then fell away.
Her eyes met his, steady, unreadable. "Don't cross a line you can't handle."
The tension snapped like a string. He took a step back, trying to breathe.
"I don't understand you," he muttered.
"You're not supposed to," she replied. "You're supposed to remember what it feels like to lose control."
Before he could respond, Lynn knocked gently on the door. "Miss Bradley, there's something urgent—"
Samantha turned, her tone instantly calm again. "Not now, Lynn. Schedule it for later."
Nick used the distraction to gather himself. "This conversation isn't over," he said tightly.
She smiled again — faint, unbothered. "It never is."
He left without another word.
---
Jake was waiting in his office across the hall, a tablet in hand, eyes heavy with unease.
When Samantha entered, he didn't look up right away. "Nick Carter, again?"
She ignored the jab, walking past him to the desk. "How did you know?"
"You have that look," he said quietly. "Like someone reminded you you're human."
She shot him a glance, half-warning, half-tired. "Don't start."
He set the tablet down in front of her. "Then maybe you should see this first."
On the screen was a report — server access logs from the night Elevate's data had been leaked. Jake's voice was even, but strained.
"I traced the breach. It came from inside the building. Lynn's credentials were used."
Samantha froze. "Lynn?"
"I checked twice," Jake said. "It was her login. The timestamp matches her working late that night."
For a long moment, Samantha didn't speak. Then she exhaled slowly, masking the tremor that ran through her.
"Don't jump to conclusions," she said. "If Lynn leaked something, someone made her do it."
Jake frowned. "Sam, you can't keep protecting everyone. What if she—"
"She wouldn't," Samantha interrupted, sharp and certain. "Not Lynn."
Her tone silenced him, but the weight between them grew heavier.
---
The next morning, Lynn's desk was empty. Her phone went straight to voicemail. No one had seen her since the night before.
Samantha's gut twisted. She tried to brush it off — maybe Lynn needed space. Maybe she went to see her brother again. But by noon, something felt wrong.
By evening, it was confirmed.
A call came from Detective Harris, a calm but grim voice on the other end.
"Miss Bradley, we found a vehicle this morning near the Hudson River. Registered under Lynn Avery. Inside was her ID, her phone, and a note. It says… 'I'm sorry.'"
Samantha's body went cold. "What about her? Did you find her?"
The detective hesitated. "We found traces suggesting she… might've jumped. The river's current is strong. We'll continue searching."
The world blurred for a moment. Samantha leaned against her desk, gripping the edge hard enough for her knuckles to whiten.
When the call ended, the office felt suffocatingly silent. Jake was standing by the door, watching her. "Sam?"
She didn't look up. Her eyes were fixed on the single piece of paper the detective had emailed her — a photo of the torn note.
Her voice came out low, almost a whisper. "No… she didn't do this."
Jake stepped forward. "Sam—"
"She wouldn't leave like that," Samantha said sharply, her control cracking for the first time in years. "Not without facing me. Not without saying something."
Jake placed a hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it off, pacing the room. "She was scared," she muttered. "Someone pushed her."
"You think Marcus?" Jake asked.
Samantha turned toward him, her eyes dark and cold. "I don't think. I know."
Her phone buzzed again — a message from an unknown number.
Some debts are paid in silence. Stop digging, or more people will disappear.
Her heart clenched, but her face hardened instantly.
Jake saw the shift in her expression — the storm returning, sharper this time. "What is it?"
She turned to the window, her reflection staring back at her — beautiful, composed, lethal.
"They took Lynn," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "And they think I'll stop."
Jake stepped closer, voice rough. "Sam, don't—"
But she cut him off, her voice turning ice-cold.
"No one touches what's mine and walks away."
---
Later that night, the news broke.
Elevate Employee Missing — Possible Suicide at Hudson River.
The world called it a tragedy.
The police called it coincidence.
But Samantha Bradley called it war.
In her office, the lights stayed on long after midnight. Her laptop glowed with the reflection of Lynn's file — the one marked "leak."
Samantha opened it slowly, scrolling through the data, then the timestamps. There — buried inside the log — was a second, hidden transfer.
Someone had accessed her private archive the same night Lynn disappeared.
Her lips parted slightly as realization hit.
This wasn't just corporate espionage.
This was a message.
She closed the laptop with quiet precision.
Jake lingered in the doorway, his eyes filled with guilt. "I should've protected her. I should've told you sooner."
Samantha looked up at him, her face unreadable. "No, Jake. The person who should've protected her is the one who made her a target."
Her voice cracked just barely — enough to reveal the grief beneath the armor.
Then she stood, adjusting her jacket, her composure sliding neatly back into place.
"Find Marcus Reed," she said quietly. "I want everything. Every company, every shell account, every person he's bought."
Jake hesitated. "And if it leads somewhere dangerous?"
She met his gaze with cold determination.
"Then I'll burn the danger before it burns me."
The city lights flickered behind her — cold and distant.
And for the first time, even Jake could see it clearly:
Samantha Bradley wasn't just fighting for revenge anymore.
She was fighting to survive the war she'd unknowingly started.