Three weeks passed, though to Samantha, it felt like time had folded into a single, endless blur.
She moved through Elevate like a shadow—cold, precise, unstoppable.
Her employees whispered. Jake watched from a distance. Even the board tread carefully, sensing that the woman who once spoke with cutting elegance now spoke only with frost.
Samantha Bradley had buried every piece of softness she had left.
And yet… every night, when the office emptied and the city softened, she found herself replaying Lynn's trembling hands, her forced smile, the broken note by the river.
Guilt. Rage. Fear.
They were all the same temperature now—ice.
---
She was reading through a contract—more like staring at the words without truly seeing—when a soft knock interrupted her.
"Come in," she said, voice controlled.
Nick stepped inside.
She didn't lift her head, but she felt the shift in the air instantly. Nick always carried a particular kind of presence—regret wrapped in warmth. Dangerous warmth.
He took a few steps closer. "You've been working nonstop."
"Work doesn't betray you," she replied evenly.
Nick let out a slow breath. "I heard… about your employee."
The slightest flicker crossed her eyes, but she didn't react further.
He continued, cautiously, "I know what it feels like to lose someone because you didn't protect them enough. And I know you're hurting. Even storms stop eventually, Samantha."
She looked up at him, her lips curving—not into a smile, but something hollow.
"Storms stop," she said softly, "only when there is nothing left to wash away."
The words hit him like a punch.
Nick swallowed, guilt rising like choking smoke. "You don't have to carry this alone."
She blinked once, slowly. "I've been carrying things alone far longer than you realize, Mr. Carter."
His name came out like a blade.
Nick clenched his jaw but didn't push further. He left a warm cup of coffee on her desk—his attempt at comfort—and exited quietly.
She didn't touch it.
The second the door closed, her façade stiffen
Across the city, Marcus Reed stepped into a private suite of an upscale hotel. He didn't knock—he simply entered.
Kate Carter was already inside, pacing anxiously.
"You're late," she snapped.
Marcus smiled leisurely. "You're nervous. That means we're getting close."
Kate glared at him. "You promised protection. Samantha Bradley is destroying us piece by piece. Chloe's reputation is gone. Naomi is questioning everything I do, Nick is distant, and the board is reacting to every headline."
"And when I take the Carter Group," Marcus said calmly, "you will get exactly what you want."
Kate's voice lowered. "And what's that?"
"Power," Marcus whispered. "And revenge."
She hesitated. "Just remember, we have a deal. You help me bring Samantha down."
Marcus's eyes gleamed. "Oh, Kate… I never break a deal. I just… reshape it."
He poured himself a drink, amused.
The game was unfolding perfectly.
That evening, as Samantha was preparing to leave, her computer pinged.
One new email.
No sender.
No subject.
Just a single line of text—
She is alive.
Samantha's breath froze.
Her heart actually skipped—something she hadn't felt in years.
Attached was a photo.
A blurry image of a woman being pushed down a hospital corridor. Hair messy. Face partially hidden by an oxygen mask. But the bracelet on her wrist—
The silver bracelet with the tiny pearl charm.
Lynn's bracelet.
Samantha's pulse raced. Her fingers trembled, just barely, as she zoomed in.
Jake entered without knocking, stopping when he saw her expression.
"Sam? What—"
She turned the screen toward him.
His eyes widened. "No. Sam, this could be fabricated—"
"That's Lynn," she whispered. "She's alive."
Jake stepped closer. "Or someone wants you to think she is."
Samantha stood abruptly, grabbing her jacket. "I'm going."
Jake blocked her path. "Not alone."
Their eyes met—his filled with worry, hers with icy determination.
"I'm not losing anyone else," she murmured.
He swallowed, then nodded. "Then I'm coming with you."
---
The GPS coordinates led them far outside the city—to a long-forgotten industrial district where streetlights flickered weakly.
The clinic looked dead.
Windows cracked. Front door half-hanging. A faint smell of mold and metal.
No cars. No lights. No signs of life.
"Perfect place to disappear someone," Jake muttered.
Samantha stepped forward anyway.
Inside, the building was a graveyard of empty beds, overturned cabinets, and dust thick enough to choke on. Their flashlight beams danced over peeling paint and dark hallways.
Samantha felt something under her shoe and froze.
She bent down slowly.
A bracelet.
Lynn's.
Untarnished. Recently dropped.
Her chest tightened. "Jake… she was here."
Jake scanned the area. "Sam—"
A soft click echoed from behind.
He shoved her to the ground just as a bullet tore through the wall where her head had been.
Bang! Bang!
Samantha rolled behind a metal table, adrenaline exploding through her veins.
Jake crouched in front of her, shielding her with his body. "Stay down!"
"Jake—!"
"I said stay down!"
Footsteps approached—slow, deliberate.
A man's silhouette appeared in the broken doorway, gun raised.
"Who sent you?" Samantha demanded.
The gunman said nothing. He just cocked the gun.
Jake grabbed Samantha's wrist and pulled her deeper into the hallway.
More bullets fired, shattering the old medical files and glass cabinets. Samantha winced as glass sprayed over them.
Jake spotted an exit sign. "Go!"
They sprinted down the hallway, lungs burning. The gunman followed, relentless.
"Jake—left!" Samantha shouted.
He shoved open a side door, but it jammed halfway.
Without hesitating, Samantha slammed her shoulder into it. It burst open, and the two of them crashed into the night air just as another bullet whistled past.
Jake grabbed her arm and dragged her behind an abandoned truck.
Silence fell.
Only their breathing filled the darkness.
After a minute, the footsteps stopped. The clinic door slammed shut.
He was gone.
Or waiting.
Samantha leaned against the truck, chest heaving.
Jake cupped her face with both hands, furious and terrified. "Sam—he almost killed you!"
A tremor ran through her. "They have Lynn. They want to drag me into something bigger."
Jake's voice cracked. "And you ran straight into their trap!"
She didn't deny it.
Because she knew he was right.
But she also knew something else—something far more dangerous.
She whispered, "Whoever took her… they're not just after Elevate. They're after me."
Jake pulled her into his arms without thinking. "You're not doing this alone. Not again."
She didn't hug him back.
But she didn't step away either.
---
As They Drove Back
Samantha stared out the window, the city lights approaching.
Jake watched her from the corner of his eye.
Her face was calm again. Too calm.
"Sam," he said quietly, "promise me something."
She didn't look at him. "You know I don't make promises."
"Then hear this," he said, voice low and fierce. "Whoever is behind this—Marcus, Kate, the blackmailers—whoever touched Lynn… I'm not letting them touch you."
Samantha's eyes were cold as glass.
"They already have," she whispered.
Jake's grip on the wheel tightened.
And in that moment, he understood something terrible—
Samantha Bradley was no longer playing defense.
She was preparing for war.
A war that would not end clean. A war with casualties. A war she was willing to burn the world for.
Jake exhaled shakily.
Marcus Reed had no idea who he had provoked.