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Enter Victoria

The elevator dinged and out stepped a woman who looked like she’d stepped straight out of a magazine — tall, blonde, dripping in money.
She didn’t look at me as she walked by. Just zeroed in on Nathan.

“Darling,” she purred, placing a manicured hand on his chest.
He stiffened immediately. “Victoria.”

My stomach dropped.

She ignored the tension. “Daddy wants you at dinner this weekend,” she said. “We have a proposal — and I have a new dress I want you to see me in.”

He stepped back, but she followed. “I’ll check my schedule.”
“You never miss family dinners,” she said sweetly. “We’ve been doing them for twenty years.”

Then her eyes finally flicked to me — and went cold.
“Is this your new secretary?”
“Executive assistant,” Nathan corrected quietly.

“How quaint,” she said. “I heard you hired the girl who crashed into your car. We had such a laugh about your charity case.”

Something in me snapped. “I’m not a charity case,” I said, standing. “And you don’t have an appointment. So technically, you’re the one being inappropriate.”

Her eyes flashed. “Oh, she speaks.” Then she turned to Nathan, pouting. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that? You know how sensitive I am.”

To my absolute shock, Nathan moved between us. “Serena’s right. You don’t have an appointment. And she’s not a charity case. She’s the most competent assistant I’ve ever had.”

Victoria’s expression went from smug to furious. “You’re defending her over me?”
“She’s my employee,” Nathan said, his voice ice. “And you’re being disrespectful in my office.”

For a second, I thought she might actually slap him.
“This is because of her,” she hissed. “She’s turned you against me. But I could do everything she does—better.”

The implication in her tone made me want to throw something.
Nathan’s jaw clenched. “Leave.”

The sound of the door closing behind her was the best sound I’d ever heard.

Nathan stood there for a long moment, hand still on the doorframe. Then he turned to me.
“I apologize for Victoria’s behavior,” he said quietly.
I blinked. “You… what?”
“It was inappropriate,” he said. “She had no right to speak to you like that.”

He’d never apologized for anything before.

For the first time since I’d met him, I saw something in his eyes that looked like guilt.
Or maybe… care.

Part 2 – The Perfect Storm

For three blissful days after that confrontation, Victoria disappeared.
The office was peaceful. Nathan was almost civil. And I dared to think, maybe she got the message.

I should’ve known better.

It was Friday morning — Nathan’s biggest client meeting of the month — and I was carrying contracts down the hall when the elevator opened.
And there she was.

Victoria looked like a model who’d just stepped off a yacht. Hair flawless. Diamonds catching every bit of sunlight. She smiled when she saw me, that sharp, fake smile that could cut glass.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” she said sweetly. “Could you refill my coffee? It’s almost empty.”

I stopped walking. “There’s a coffee machine in the break room,” I said, moving past her.

“That’s not very professional,” she said, following me, her heels clicking like gunfire. “When Nathan and I were together, I never had to get my own coffee.”

That made me freeze.
“You were together?” I turned, keeping my voice neutral even though something ugly twisted in my stomach.

Her smile widened. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? We dated all through college. Everyone thought we’d get married. Our families certainly did.”

I took a deep breath. “Well, you’re not together now, and I have work to do.”

I turned away. And that’s when I felt it — hot liquid splashing down my back.

Coffee.
Scalding, sticky, dripping down my blouse and soaking through the thin white fabric.

Gasps echoed through the hallway. Victoria’s voice rose, full of fake horror.
“Oh no! You really shouldn’t stop so suddenly. How clumsy of me.”

I stood there, shaking, coffee dripping onto the floor. My blouse was see-through now. And there were clients arriving any minute.

“You did that on purpose,” I said through my teeth.

“Prove it,” she whispered. Then, louder, “You should really go change. Oh wait, you probably don’t have extra clothes here, do you? People like you usually don’t think ahead.”

Every nerve in my body screamed to hit her. To scream. To do something. But before I could move, Nathan came out of his office.

He took one look at the scene — me soaked, Victoria smirking — and his whole face changed.

He walked straight past her into his office, grabbed his suit jacket, and came back.
“Put this on,” he said quietly.

When I didn’t move, still too stunned, he stepped forward and draped it over my shoulders himself.

“Victoria,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Leave. Now.”

“Nathan,” she said quickly, “I told you, it was an accident.”

“I don’t care,” he said, eyes like steel. “Get. Out.”

The entire office was silent as she turned on her heel and stormed out.
The sound of the elevator closing behind her was the only thing that made me breathe again.

Nathan’s hand was still on my shoulder.
“I need to change,” I managed to whisper.

“Take the rest of the day off,” he said. “I’ll handle the meeting.”

“But—”

“Go home, Serena.”

His voice was gentler this time, but final. I just nodded and walked out, the smell of coffee and humiliation clinging to me all the way home.

The Spiral

The next morning, I found my landlord waiting outside my apartment door with a clipboard and a face like he’d just swallowed a lemon.
“Miss Caldwell,” he said, “we need to discuss your lease violations.”

“What violations?”

“Noise complaints. Unauthorized pets. Running a business from your apartment.”

I just stared at him. “I don’t have pets. I don’t even like pets.”

He cleared his throat. “We’ve received multiple complaints—”

“Written ones?” I asked.

“Well… no. They were verbal.”

“So you’re trying to evict me based on nothing?”

He flinched when I pulled out my phone and started recording. “For the record,” I said, “I’m requesting written documentation of these alleged violations. If you proceed without it, I’ll contact the housing authority.”

He turned red and muttered something about reviewing the situation before practically running down the hall.

And I knew.
It was her.

Victoria had started her war.

The next week, my car got towed. Twice.
Each time from a legal parking spot. Each time, $150 out of my account I didn’t have to spare.
The third time it happened, I walked into the office forty minutes late and found Nathan waiting by my desk.

“You’re late,” he said, voice flat as ever.

“My car got towed again.”

“Not my problem,” he said. “The Suarez contracts were due an hour ago.”

“I’ll— I’ll do them now—”

“They’re already done,” he said, dropping a file on my desk. “I had to do them myself. Your job is to handle these things so I don’t have to.”

The words hit harder than I expected.
I was trying so hard to hold everything together, but my chest felt tight.

“I’m trying my best,” I said, my voice shaking. “I’ll fix it.”

“I already have,” he said. “My driver will pick you up every morning from now on.”

I blinked. “What? No. That’s weird.”

“It’s practical,” he said simply. “You being late affects my schedule.”

“I’m not getting into your car every morning like some kind of—”

“That’s your only option,” he interrupted. “Or find another job.”

The threat landed heavy between us. And I knew he meant it.

So the next morning, there was a sleek black town car waiting outside my apartment.
I expected a driver.
I didn’t expect him.

He was sitting in the back seat, reading emails like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“It’s my car,” he said without looking up. “I’m not making two trips.”

So I sat in silence for twenty minutes while my brain screamed at me to say something.

By the third day, the silence was unbearable.
“Thanks for this,” I said finally. “The ride, I mean.”

He made a sound that might have been a grunt.

“Do you always work during your commute?” I tried again.

“Yes.”

Right. Great talk.

But by the fifth day, something strange happened.
I started talking about work. And he listened.

By the second week, he’d stopped scrolling through his phone.
By the third, he was the one starting conversations.

It became our unspoken routine.
We’d talk about meetings, projects, books, and somehow, slowly, things that weren’t work at all.

He told me about his first company — how he lost everything at twenty-two.
“How?” I asked quietly.

“I thought being smart was enough,” he said. “It wasn’t.”

“What happened?”

“My father called it a ‘valuable learning experience.’ Then bought the assets for pennies and made five million off my mistakes.”

“That’s… horrible,” I whispered.

He didn’t reply. Just said, “He taught me emotions are expensive.”

“That’s the worst lesson I’ve ever heard.”

He actually looked at me then, really looked. “What did your parents teach you?”

“That mac and cheese counts as a vegetable if you believe hard enough,” I said, and to my shock, he laughed.
Not a smirk. Not a huff. A real laugh.

“My mom did a victory dance when I got this job,” I added. “Almost broke her hip.”

“Your mother sounds interesting.”

“She’d probably adopt you,” I said. “She has a thing for strays who need feeding.”

“I don’t need feeding,” he muttered.

“Nathan, you forget to eat lunch every day.”

“I don’t forget. I prioritize.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He smiled then — actually smiled — and I swear the world shifted a little.

The Breaking Point

But for every inch Nathan softened, Victoria got worse.

She found new ways to attack — subtle ones this time. Anonymous emails to HR claiming I was “inappropriately close” to the boss.
We both got called into an HR meeting that ended in awkward silence because Nathan shredded the report on the spot.

Then, one night, I came home to find my apartment door open.

At first, I thought I’d forgotten to lock it. But when I stepped inside, my entire world collapsed.

My couch was flipped, torn apart like someone had gone at it with a knife.
My clothes — every single piece — were shredded.
The walls were spray-painted in red letters: “Know your place.”
And on the largest wall: “He’s mine.”

My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped my phone.
Without thinking, I called Nathan.

He picked up on the first ring. “Serena?”

“Someone broke into my apartment,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Get out,” he said immediately. “Go into the hallway. I’m on my way.”

He was there fifteen minutes later. He didn’t say anything at first — just walked through the wreckage, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

When he turned back to me, his voice was all command again.
“Pack a bag.”

“What? Nathan, I can’t just—”

“Pack a bag,” he said again, eyes burning. “You’re not staying here.”

I tried to argue. “I’ll get a hotel.”

“With what money?” he asked quietly.

That shut me up.

“It was her, wasn’t it?” I whispered.

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

I should’ve been terrified. But what I felt was… numb.
I followed him to his car, holding my bag like a shield.

His Apartment

Nathan’s place was like him — sharp edges, expensive taste, perfectly controlled.
Glass, steel, city skyline glowing outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“The guest room’s down the hall,” he said. “Bathroom’s stocked. Use whatever you need.”

He turned to leave, but I reached out without thinking and grabbed his sleeve.
“Thank you,” I said softly.

He looked at me like he didn’t know what to do with the words.
“She won’t touch you here,” he said finally. Then walked away.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those words on my wall.
Around 3 a.m., I gave up and went looking for water.

I found him in a dark office, sitting behind his desk in sweats, typing. He looked so different — softer somehow, more human.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked without looking up.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see it,” I said, curling into the chair across from him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he meant it. “This is my fault. I should’ve dealt with her years ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He was quiet for a long time. “Her father owns thirty percent of my company. She knows things about my early deals that could cause problems. I thought ignoring her would make her stop.”

“Clearly, it didn’t.”

“No,” he said softly. “It didn’t.”

When I told him I didn’t want his money, just safety, he looked at me like I’d said something alien.

“Why do you care so much?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly, “Because I’m worried about you.”

We talked until sunrise. About everything. His childhood. My mother. Our stupid coping mechanisms.

At some point, I fell asleep on his couch. And for the first time in days, I didn’t dream of red paint or destruction.

Part 3 – The Night Everything Broke

When I woke up, the light in the room had changed.
Sunlight was pouring through Nathan’s windows, soft and golden, like the world was trying to convince me that things might actually be okay.

I was curled under a throw blanket that definitely hadn’t been there when I fell asleep.
And I was wearing one of Nathan’s shirts — an oversized, soft gray thing that smelled faintly of cedar and coffee. I remembered changing into it sometime during the night when I couldn’t stand the feel of my ruined clothes anymore.

For a second, everything was calm.
And then I heard a sound — a gasp, sharp and high-pitched.

I sat up and froze.
Standing in the middle of the living room, holding a key in one manicured hand, was Victoria.

Her face twisted the second she saw me. “What is she doing here?” she shrieked. “And why is she wearing your shirt?”

My heart stopped.
But Nathan wasn’t in the room yet.

I stood, gripping the edge of the blanket. “You destroyed my apartment,” I said before I could stop myself. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “You broke in, trashed everything, spray-painted the walls—”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said sweetly, but there was venom in her eyes. “Maybe the stress of trying to keep up with Nathan’s world is getting to you.”

“Cut the act, Victoria. You wrote ‘He’s mine’ on my wall.”

Her eyes flashed, but her voice stayed calm. “You can’t prove anything, sweetheart. And if you keep making false accusations, Daddy’s lawyers will eat you alive.”

Nathan appeared in the doorway then. “How did you get in here?” His voice was so controlled it was terrifying.

Victoria held up the key and smiled. “You gave me this years ago. Remember? When we were together.”

His jaw tightened. “We were never together. You decided we were.”

Her face turned scarlet. “Delusions?” she spat. “We were in love, Nathan! You’ve just forgotten what that feels like.”

“Stop,” he said quietly.

But she kept going. “First that marketing girl, then that lawyer, now this piece of trash.” Her eyes flicked to me, full of hate. “You always did like slumming it when you wanted to rebel.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Nathan said, and there was something new in his tone — sharp, protective, dangerous.

She stepped closer to him and tried to touch his face. He caught her wrist mid-air.
“You’re defending her?” she hissed. “After everything we’ve been through? Our families built empires together!”

“The only thing you’ve built,” I said before I could stop myself, “is a fantasy.”

She spun toward me, eyes wild. “You think you’ve won something here? You think sleeping in his apartment makes you special? I’ve known him since he was seven. I know every secret, every mistake, every dirty deal his company made.”

“Are you threatening me?” Nathan asked. His voice was so quiet it made the hair on my arms rise.

“I’m reminding you that some relationships can’t be broken,” she said. “Maybe I’ll make her life so miserable she’ll run away screaming.”

Nathan moved between us. “Get out.”

Victoria smiled, but her voice shook. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to think. Daddy and I have an offer — triple your company’s value, Nathan. All you have to do is remember who you belong to.”

Then she turned and walked out, slamming the door so hard the frame rattled.

I didn’t realize I was shaking until Nathan turned to me.
“Are you okay?”

“I need sleep,” I whispered, and walked down the hall before he could answer.

The Decision

I didn’t sleep.
I lay in the dark guest room staring at the ceiling, her words replaying over and over.
You think you’ve won something here?
I’ll make her life miserable.

I couldn’t live like this — waiting for the next attack, the next humiliation, the next explosion.

So, at dawn, I got up, dressed, and sat at Nathan’s desk in the guest room.
I wrote a resignation letter.
Each sentence hurt to type, but it also felt like pulling splinters from my skin.

By the time the car arrived that morning, my decision was made.

The ride to the office was silent. Nathan glanced at me a few times, but I kept my eyes on the window.
When we arrived, I printed the letter, walked straight into his office, and set it on his desk.

He looked at it, then at me. “What’s this?”

“My resignation.”

He stood slowly. “You’re quitting?”

“Yes.”

“Because of her.”

“It’s not worth it, Nathan,” I said, crossing my arms. “She’s threatened to ruin my life. I can’t fight someone like that. I don’t have the money or the connections. This is the smart choice.”

His expression changed — something like disbelief and panic mixing together.
“I can’t do this without you.”

“You managed before I came along,” I said softly.

“Barely.” His voice rose. “You don’t understand. The company was chaos before you. You think I’m difficult? I went through eleven assistants in two years. I forgot board meetings. I drove everyone away. Then you crashed into my car, yelled at me, and somehow—” He stopped, ran a hand through his hair. “Everything started working again.”

“Because I do my job, Nathan. That’s it.”

“It’s not just that,” he said. “You get me. You see through the noise. You’re the only person I can actually stand to have in the same room all day.”

I felt my throat tighten. “Nathan…”

“She’s not going to stop,” I said finally.

“Then let me handle her.” His jaw clenched. “Let me protect you.”

“That’ll destroy your company.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’d burn it all down before I let her touch you again.”

There was so much emotion in his voice that I had to look away.
“Please,” he said quietly. “Don’t quit. Not because of her.”

I couldn’t speak.
My brain said run, but my heart said stay.

“I need to think,” I whispered.

He nodded once. “Take the day.”

The Ultimatum

He disappeared after that.
For hours, I sat at my desk pretending to work, my resignation letter sitting like a bomb beside my keyboard.

When Nathan returned that afternoon, he looked… different. Calm. Focused.
“Come into my office,” he said.

I followed, my stomach in knots.

He didn’t sit behind his desk this time. He leaned against it, sleeves rolled up, tie loose. “I went to see Victoria and her father.”

My heart stuttered. “What did you do?”

He exhaled slowly. “I told them I had proof. Security footage of her breaking into your building. Recordings of her threats. Documentation of every illegal thing her father’s company has done in the last ten years.”

I just stared at him. “You what?”

“I told him that if Victoria ever contacts either of us again, I’ll hand everything over to the SEC.”

“You were sitting on all that?”

“My father taught me to always have leverage,” he said. “I just never had a reason to use it before.”

I didn’t know whether to be terrified or impressed. “And he believed you?”

“He signed an agreement,” Nathan said. “Victoria leaves for London tomorrow. Permanently. If she violates it, their empire burns.”

“You really did all that?”

He met my eyes. “I told you I’d burn it down before I let her hurt you. I meant it.”

I felt the air leave my lungs. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stay,” he said softly.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“Please, Serena,” he continued. “I know this has been insane. You have every right to run. But you need to know something. This stopped being about work a long time ago.”

My pulse roared in my ears. “What are you saying?”

He took a step closer. “I’m saying those mornings in the car are the only time I feel like myself. I’m saying seeing you in my apartment felt right. I’m saying when I saw that resignation letter, I felt something I haven’t felt in years — terror. Real terror. Because if you left…” He swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t know how to go back to who I was before you.”

“Nathan…”

“You make me want to deserve you,” he said. “You make me want to be someone worth knowing. Every time you call me out, I actually think about it. Every time you smile at me, I feel it for hours.”

I couldn’t breathe.

He looked down, his voice breaking. “I threatened to destroy everything I built because losing you would hurt worse. That’s what you’ve done to me, Serena.”

For a long moment, we just stared at each other in silence.
Then, barely above a whisper, I said, “Okay. I’ll stay.”

The relief that crossed his face nearly undid me.
“Thank you,” he whispered.

We stood there in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, and for the first time since meeting Nathan Warner, I felt… safe.

I should have known peace like that never lasts.

The Crash

The next morning was perfect — blue sky, warm breeze, the kind of day that made you think everything might finally be okay.
Nathan’s driver was out sick, so he drove.

We were laughing — actually laughing — about how his CFO had called him “approachable” for the first time in company history.

“After today,” Nathan said, reaching across the console to squeeze my hand, “we should celebrate. Dinner? Somewhere that doesn’t serve stress as a main course.”

I was about to answer when the impact hit.

A violent, bone-rattling crash from behind. My head whipped back against the seat, stars exploding behind my eyes.

“What the—” Nathan’s voice cut off as he grabbed the wheel. The car swerved, tires screaming.

Then I saw it in the rear-view mirror.

A black SUV.
Her SUV.

Victoria.

Her face was a mask of rage behind the windshield, hair wild, eyes manic.

“She’s behind us,” I whispered.

Nathan didn’t look back. “Hold on.”

The SUV slammed into us again, harder this time. Metal crunched. Glass cracked.

“She’s going to kill us,” I said.

“I know.” He was gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles were white.

He accelerated, trying to create distance, but she matched our speed, weaving through traffic like she didn’t care if she died as long as she took us with her.

The bridge loomed ahead — narrow, concrete, no exits.

“If we can make it across,” Nathan said, “there’s a police station—”

The next hit was brutal. The world tilted. I screamed as the guardrail blurred past my window.

“Nathan!”

“I’ve got it—”

He didn’t.

The steering wheel locked. The car fishtailed.
Victoria pulled up beside us, and I saw her mouth moving — silent through the glass. You ruined everything.

Then she jerked her wheel and slammed into us one last time.

The sound was deafening. Metal on metal. Tires shrieking.
The barrier gave way like paper.

And suddenly, we were airborne.

Part 4 – The Fall, the Fire, and What Came After

Time did this cruel thing where it stretched and slowed, like the universe wanted me to feel every second before we died.
The bridge, the city, the sky—all of it spun outside the window.
I could hear Nathan shouting my name, but it sounded far away, like we were underwater.

Then came the impact.
Metal shrieked. Glass shattered.
The car hit the barrier again, bounced, and stopped half hanging over the edge of the bridge.

Everything went still except the sound of rushing water below and the car groaning under its own weight.
My door swung open into nothingness.

I realized too late my seat belt hadn’t clicked right; it twisted in the crash.
I was sliding sideways toward that open door, toward the empty air.

“Nathan!” I screamed.

He reached out, caught my wrist just as my body slipped free of the seat.
Pain shot up my arm, but he had me.
He had me.

“Hold on to me!” he shouted.

There was nothing beneath me—just wind, and the sound of my own terrified breathing. The river looked like a black mirror hundreds of feet below.
“I’m slipping!”
“I’ve got you, Serena! Don’t look down!”

But I did. And the world tilted again.

The car shifted an inch closer to the drop. His grip tightened. I could see the veins in his arms straining.
“Please!” I cried. “Let me go! You’ll die too!”
“Never,” he said through clenched teeth. “You told me you loved me—you don’t get to say that and then fall away from me.”

The words hit me harder than the crash had.

He started pulling. Inch by inch, his muscles trembling, his face red with effort. The metal under him screeched. I reached for the door frame, my fingers scraping against it until I caught hold.

“Climb!” he shouted.
“I can’t!”
“Yes, you can! Look at me!”

I looked at him—those dark eyes that used to look like stone but now burned like fire.
I climbed. I don’t even know how. Maybe adrenaline, maybe love, maybe both. But I moved. And he pulled.

When I was half inside the car, a new sound cut through the chaos—footsteps pounding on the bridge above us.

“Let her go!”

Victoria’s voice.
High, shrill, almost inhuman.

She was standing at the broken edge, hair wild, eyes crazed. “Let her go and come with me, Nathan! We can still fix this!”

Nathan didn’t even look up. “Get away from us!”

I was trying to haul myself the rest of the way in when I heard her say, “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

Nathan gave one last pull, dragging me into the car. I landed hard against him just as the rest of the car slipped off the bridge.

The sound of twisting metal screamed in my ears, but somehow the front end caught on the remaining bit of barrier. We were alive—barely.

Then I heard it.
An engine.

She was in her SUV.
Coming straight at us.

“She’s going to ram us!” I screamed.

Nathan turned his head just in time to see it. The black SUV shot toward us, tires screeching, headlights blinding.

He pulled me close, shielding me with his body.

But instead of hitting us, the SUV swerved too far. It skimmed the edge of the broken bridge, missed us by inches, and vanished into the air.

I saw her face through the windshield in the split second before she disappeared—eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream.

The crash that followed was like thunder. Metal crunched against concrete, glass exploded, and then there was only silence and smoke.

Nathan’s chest rose and fell against me. His hands were still shaking when he whispered, “Don’t look.”
I buried my face in his shoulder anyway, shaking so violently that I couldn’t feel my fingers.

Then came the sirens.
Someone must have called 911.
Voices shouted above us, ropes dropping down, people running.

Nathan still hadn’t let go of me.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered again and again, like he was trying to convince both of us. “You’re safe, Serena. You’re safe.”

“I thought I lost you,” I said, voice breaking.
“You told me you loved me,” he whispered. “How could I ever let go after that?”

After the Bridge

I remember the paramedics pulling us out.
The flash of lights. The chill of the air.
They wrapped us in blankets, checked our vitals, kept saying, “You’re lucky to be alive.”

Then one of them shouted something about another victim.
“Female driver—alive, but major spinal trauma.”

Victoria.

Her screams came next—high, ragged, filled with something between pain and disbelief.
“I can’t move my legs! Fix it! Someone fix it!”

Nathan pulled me closer, blocking my view, but I could still hear her.
Even through the chaos, it felt unreal. The woman who’d tried to end my life was now paralyzed.

The irony made me dizzy.

The next thing I remember clearly is the hospital. Nathan sitting beside my bed, his hand wrapped around mine. Both of us covered in scrapes and bruises, but alive.

When I woke up fully, he was there.
“You’re okay,” he said softly. “You’re safe.”

I reached up and touched his face. There was a cut across his cheek, dried blood at the corner of his lip.
“You look terrible,” I murmured.
He smiled for real then. “You look worse.”

I laughed, and it hurt, but it also healed something in me I didn’t realize was broken.

Three Months Later

Three months passed before the world started to feel normal again.

Victoria was transferred to a rehabilitation facility in London under her father’s supervision. The tabloids whispered about “an accident on a bridge” and “unconfirmed rumors,” but the truth never made it to print.

Nathan made sure of that.

He also made sure she could never come near us again. Legally, financially, physically—she was gone.

As for me, I moved into a new apartment downtown.
Nathan offered to pay for it, but I refused. I needed one thing that was mine again.

I still worked for him, technically. Only now, the line between boss and boyfriend didn’t exist anymore.

The office knew. Everyone knew. But no one said a word. Maybe because Nathan Warner—the man who used to terrify his entire staff—had become someone else.
Someone who smiled.
Someone who said “thank you.”
Someone who left little notes on my desk that said things like, Lunch? Remember to eat.

One afternoon, after a meeting, his CFO stopped by my desk and whispered, “I don’t know what you did to him, but thank you.”

I grinned. “Therapy’s expensive. I work cheap.”

When Nathan heard that, he said, “You’re taking credit for my improvement?”

“Absolutely,” I said, stealing his coffee. “I earned it.”

He leaned down, right there in the middle of the office, and kissed me on the forehead.
“You’ve earned everything,” he whispered.

The room fell quiet, but for once, I didn’t care who saw.

Peace

Sometimes, late at night when the city lights spill through my window, I think about that bridge.
About the sound of the car creaking. About his hand clutching mine while everything else fell apart.

I still wake up sometimes with my heart racing, remembering the way the air felt under me when I was hanging there.
And then I roll over, feel his arm around me, and the world settles again.

Nathan still works too hard.
I still remind him to eat, to breathe, to exist outside his calendar.
He still pretends to hate it.

But sometimes, when we’re alone, he’ll say things like,
“I didn’t know how to live before you.”
Or,
“You saved me the day you crashed into my car.”

And every time he says that, I remember the girl I was back then—late, broke, furious, covered in spilled coffee—who thought she’d just met the worst man on earth.

Turns out, she’d met the love of her life.

Epilogue

Victoria never fully recovered.
She’s still in London, confined to a wheelchair. Her father quietly sold his shares in Warner Enterprises and vanished from the corporate world.
No one talks about them anymore.

Sometimes I wonder if she regrets it—if she realizes how much she lost trying to win a love that was never hers.
Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn’t.
Either way, I don’t hate her.
I can’t.

Because if it weren’t for everything she did—every cruel act, every threat, every crash—I might never have seen the truth about Nathan.
I might never have seen the man behind the armor.
The man who reached into the void and refused to let me fall.

Now, when people ask me how we met, I laugh.
“I rear-ended his car,” I say. “He fired eleven assistants before me, and now he’s stuck with me forever.”

And Nathan, standing beside me, always adds quietly, “Best accident of my life.”

The End