SOPHIE POV
Sophie's hotel room was suffocating.
She'd come back from meeting James and locked the door and sat on the edge of the bed for an hour without moving. Her hands were still shaking. Her heart was still racing. And her brain wouldn't stop replaying the same moment over and over. James's tired eyes. His desperate voice. The way he'd looked at her like she was the only real thing in his entire world.
She got up and walked to the window. The city was still awake below her. Still moving. Still functioning like nothing had changed. Like her entire foundation hadn't just shifted underneath her feet.
It was past midnight.
Sophie had a 6 AM flight home and she needed to sleep but her body had other ideas. Her body was remembering what it felt like to be in a room with James Peterson. And apparently her body hadn't learned the lesson that her brain had figured out months ago. That going back to him was just another way of destroying herself.
She tried to lie down. She tried to close her eyes. She tried to think about Momentum and her investors and the expansion plans she'd been working on. But all she could think about was the way James had asked for one week. Like it was a mercy he didn't deserve. Like she was a gift he was hoping for.
She'd said yes. That was the part that kept her awake. Not that she'd refused his offer. But that she'd given him time to prove himself. To show her that he'd changed. To give her hope that maybe the man who'd broken her was becoming someone different.
That was so stupid.
Sophie got out of bed at 2 AM and called Zara.
Zara answered like she'd been waiting for the call. Which she probably had been. Zara knew Sophie better than Sophie knew herself sometimes. She knew when Sophie was going to do something reckless. She knew when Sophie needed someone to tell her the truth even when the truth was painful.
"Tell me everything," Zara said, not bothering with hello or how are you.
Sophie told her. About James at the conference. About the two billion dollar offer. About his devastation when she said no. About the way he'd asked for one week and how she'd said yes before her brain could stop her mouth.
Zara listened without interrupting. That was one of the things Sophie loved about her. She didn't fill silences with her own opinions. She just waited until Sophie was completely done.
"Okay," Zara said when Sophie finished. "Let me say something and I need you to actually hear it and not just listen."
"I'm listening," Sophie said.
"James Peterson has had multiple chances to do the right thing," Zara said, and her voice was firm in a way that meant she was about to say something true. "He had chances when you were working for him. He had chances when you quit. He had chances in the last eighteen months when he could have reached out to you in literally any way other than through acquisition offers."
Sophie didn't say anything.
"And you built Momentum," Zara continued. "You did that without him. You built something incredible by yourself. You proved that you don't need him. You proved that you're brilliant and capable and worthy of every single success you've achieved."
"I know," Sophie said quietly.
"Do you," Zara asked. "Because it sounds like you're about to throw away everything you've built because James Peterson showed up looking sad."
"He looked like someone who'd been through hell," Sophie said.
"Okay. But whose hell was that," Zara shot back. "He created that. He made choices that led to his suffering. And now he wants you to fix it. And you're so used to fixing things and taking care of people that you're about to do it again."
Sophie wanted to argue. She wanted to tell Zara that she was wrong. That James was actually changing. That this felt different from before. But the words wouldn't come because Zara was right and Sophie knew it.
"You don't need validation from James Peterson," Zara said, and her voice softened. "You already know you're brilliant. You already know you're strong. You already know you're worth more than he was ever capable of giving you. So what are you hoping for from this one week."
Sophie opened her mouth and closed it. She didn't have an answer. Or maybe she had too many answers and they were all terrifying.
"I think part of me still loves him," Sophie said finally, and saying it out loud made it real in a way that thinking it never could.
"I know," Zara said. "That's what makes this dangerous. Love makes us stupid. Love makes us willing to accept less than we deserve. Love makes us believe in second chances even when every lesson we've learned says we shouldn't."
"So what do I do," Sophie asked.
"You protect yourself," Zara said. "You stay smart. You remember that words are cheap and actions matter. And if James is actually changing, then he can prove it without you being vulnerable. You've been vulnerable enough."
They talked for another hour. By the time Sophie hung up, she felt clearer. Not better. But clearer. Zara was right. Sophie didn't need James. She'd built an empire without him. She'd built a life that was meaningful and purposeful and completely independent of whether James Peterson ever figured out what he'd lost.
She should protect herself.
She should keep her walls up.
She should give him one week but not hope for anything. Not believe in anything. Just watch and wait and see if he was actually capable of change or if this was just another manipulation dressed up as redemption.
Sophie lay in bed and made a decision. She would give him the one week. But she wasn't going to make it easy. She wasn't going to soften. She wasn't going to let her guard down just because he looked sad.
She was going to be exactly what she'd learned to be over the last eighteen months.
Powerful.
She managed to sleep for maybe two hours before her flight. She got on the plane and tried not to think about James. She tried to focus on work emails and investor calls and the life she'd built that had nothing to do with him.
By the time she landed in Boston, she almost had herself convinced that she could do this. That she could sit across from James for one week and watch him try to prove himself without falling apart. Without remembering what they'd been. Without hoping for something that was probably impossible.
Her phone rang just as she was getting her bags from baggage claim.
Unknown number.
Sophie almost didn't answer. But something made her pick up. Some part of her that was already bracing for whatever came next.
"Ms. Bennett, this is Leah Anderson calling from Proton Solutions," the voice said, and Sophie's entire body went cold. "Mr. Peterson asked me to contact you. He was hoping you might be available for a meeting this evening. He has something he'd like to show you. Something he believes is important."
Sophie's hand tightened on her phone.
"What kind of something," she asked.
"I think it's better if he explains it himself," Leah said, and there was something in her voice that Sophie couldn't quite read. Something that sounded almost like she was on Sophie's side. "But I will tell you that whatever this is, it took him a lot of courage to ask for it."
Sophie should have said no. She should have said she was busy. She should have said she needed time to settle back in Boston and adjust before any meetings. She should have done a thousand things that would have protected herself.
Instead, she heard herself say, "What time?"
"Tonight at eight," Leah said. "There's an address I'm about to text you. It's a private rooftop. Mr. Peterson will be waiting."
The line went dead.
Sophie stood in the middle of baggage claim with her suitcase in one hand and her phone in the other, and she felt something shift inside her chest. Something that felt dangerous and exciting and terrifying all at once.
She pulled up the address Leah had texted and saw it was in downtown Boston. A rooftop. Private. Just James. No corporate conference room. No official setting. Just a man who'd spent eighteen months watching her build an empire, asking for one week to prove that he'd changed.
Sophie should have felt angry. She should have felt manipulated. She should have called him back and told him that showing up at her conference was one thing but following her home and arranging secret rooftop meetings was crossing a line.
But she didn't feel any of those things.
She felt like she was standing at a crossroads and she had to choose between protecting herself or actually believing that maybe, just maybe, James Peterson was finally becoming someone worth trusting.
She had twelve hours to decide if she was brave enough to take the risk.