The elevator doors opened with a soft chime.
Samantha stepped into her penthouse, the city lights spilling like liquid gold through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She expected silence. She expected the usual stillness that greeted her after long nights of calculating, planning, and burying every piece of emotion that threatened to rise.
She did not expect a figure slumped against her living-room wall.
Samantha froze.
A weak whisper cut through the dimness.
"Miss… Samantha…"
Her heart stopped.
"Lynn?"
The lights flicked on automatically, revealing Lynn—dirty, pale, trembling so violently she could barely stay conscious. Her clothes were torn, her face bruised, and her eyes—her once-bright, loyal eyes—were filled with terror.
Samantha rushed to her, dropping to her knees.
"Lynn? Lynn—look at me. How did you get here?" Her voice cracked despite all her control.
Lynn grabbed her wrist with shaking fingers.
"They… used me," she whispered, breath shallow. "I didn't want to—he forced me. Marcus… Marcus Reed—he's behind everything."
Samantha's blood went cold.
Before she could speak, Lynn continued, voice breaking, "He… he said… if I didn't give him the file… he would ruin Evan. I thought he would let him go—I thought—"
"Lynn." Samantha cupped her face, steadying her. "Who threatened you? Marcus? Or his men?"
Lynn shook her head weakly. "He… he wanted more. He wanted… you."
Samantha's stomach twisted. "What do you mean?"
Lynn struggled to breathe. "His brother… the one who—"
A sharp metallic sound cracked through the air.
A sniper's trigger.
Samantha's instincts screamed—
"DOWN!"
A bullet shattered the glass wall behind them, exploding shards like a rain of knives.
Lynn's body jerked violently.
Her scream died before it formed.
Blood spread across her chest.
"LYNN!" Samantha caught her before she hit the floor, glass slicing Samantha's arm as she held her.
Lynn blinked rapidly, struggling to focus. "Miss… Sa… mantha…"
Jake and two security officers burst into the penthouse, guns drawn.
"Sam!" Jake shouted. "Get away from the windows!"
But Samantha couldn't hear him.
She stared at Lynn—at her pale lips, at the blood pooling beneath her fingers.
"Stay with me," Samantha urged, voice trembling. "Lynn, stay awake. Look at me."
Lynn grasped her wrist again, nails digging into her skin.
"He… played us," she rasped. "Marcus… he wants… all of it. Elevate… Carter Group… and—"
Another bullet hit the wall above them.
Security dragged Samantha and Lynn behind the marble column.
Jake knelt beside them, ripping off his jacket to press against Lynn's wound.
"Ambulance—NOW!" Jake barked to security.
Lynn's breath hitched, her chest rising unevenly.
She leaned closer to Samantha, her last strength pouring into a whisper.
"He… knew you, Miss… Samantha… before the gala."
Samantha felt the world tilt.
Lynn's final words barely escaped her lips—
"He… knew Ally Miller…"
Then her eyes rolled back.
Her head fell against Samantha's shoulder.
A terrible, echoing silence followed.
"NO—NO, LYNN!" Samantha shook her, her voice breaking—raw, wounded, nothing like the woman the world saw. "Open your eyes! LYNN!"
Jake grabbed Samantha's shoulders, pulling her close as paramedics burst in.
"Sam, she's still breathing," he said, though his voice trembled. "We're not losing her. Do you hear me? We're not."
Samantha's hands were covered in Lynn's blood.
Her dress, her arms, her face—splattered with red.
She didn't feel any of it.
She only stared blankly as they lifted Lynn onto a stretcher.
Her voice was gone.
Her heart was ice.
Her revenge… suddenly felt meaningless.
---
The Hospital
Hours later, Samantha sat in a hard chair outside the ICU.
Her dress was ruined. Her hands still stained with Lynn's blood. Her hair coming undone. Her mind—silent, terrifyingly silent.
She didn't lift her head when Jake slid into the seat beside her.
He took her hand.
She didn't pull away.
"She's alive," he murmured gently. "Barely. They stabilized her, but she's in a coma. They… they don't know if she'll wake up."
No reaction.
Just a hollow stare at the wall.
Jake touched her cheek lightly. "Sam…"
Finally—finally—her voice emerged.
Barely a whisper.
"This isn't about revenge anymore."
Jake's chest tightened painfully. "Sam—"
She turned her head slowly, meeting his eyes.
This time, there was fire in her voice.
Not icy. Not controlled.
Something deeper.
"Jake… this is about truth."
He nodded silently, squeezing her hand.
And for the first time since she returned to New York, Samantha didn't hide behind steel.
She leaned her forehead against Jake's shoulder, breathing shakily.
He closed his eyes.
For a brief moment, he let himself hold her the way he always wanted to.
---
Jake Investigates Marcus
Two days later, Jake stood in front of Samantha's office desk, expression grim.
"I found something," he said quietly.
Samantha lifted her gaze. "Tell me."
Jake placed a folder in front of her.
"Marcus Reed didn't just appear seven years ago. His rise started exactly the year after your… accident."
Samantha's fingers curled slightly. "Go on."
Jake hesitated. "This part… Sam, it's bad."
"Say it."
Jake opened the folder.
A faded police report.
A scratched-out name.
A vehicle registration number.
And a mugshot.
A man in his twenties.
Jake exhaled. "This is Marcus Reed's older brother—Daniel Reed."
Samantha's heartbeat slowed.
Jake continued, voice tight, "He was the driver of the car that hit Ally Miller."
Silence.
The world seemed to tilt.
Samantha's breath stopped halfway through her chest.
"So it was never an accident," she whispered.
Jake nodded slowly. "The report was buried… someone paid to erase it. And when Daniel died two years later—Marcus inherited everything."
Samantha stood up, stepping toward the window.
Thunder rumbled outside.
Lightning flashed across the skyline—white, sharp, violent.
Just like that morning.
The morning she died.
The morning Ally Miller was erased from the world.
She whispered, voice trembling but deadly calm—
"Marcus Reed… planned my death."
Jake stepped closer. "Sam… we don't know if—"
Samantha turned to him, eyes burning.
"He sent the driver. He blackmailed Lynn. He shot her. He's been watching me since the moment I returned. This was never about business."
Her voice dropped.
"It was always about me."
Lightning lit the room again, reflecting off her eyes—the eyes of a woman reborn, wounded, and ready for the final war.
Jake watched her, heart pounding.
"You're going after him, aren't you?" he asked softly.
Samantha's lips curved into a cold, lethal smile.
"No, Jake."
She stepped past him, heading toward the door.
"I'm ending him."