Samara and Elijah were already on their way back to the manor. Samara sat in silence, her jaw set, while their daughter Veronica was lost in her own little world in the backseat.
Elijah stole glances at his wife, knowing her anger over Natalia still burned hot. He'd stepped in just in time to keep Samara from pummeling his secretary—and to spare himself the headache of explaining a battered employee to the board.
"Darling—"
"Don't talk to me! I'm still furious that you stopped me," Samara snapped, her voice sharp enough to make Elijah sigh.
"Don't be angry with me for stepping in," he said gently, even as he felt her glare searing into him. "I had to make sure you didn't hurt yourself in the process."
"So what? She deserved it for making our daughter cry, Elijah!"
"That's why I already fired her. She'll never get hired anywhere in this industry again. Now please, calm down." His soft tone made Samara huff out a breath.
"I wasn't actually going to hurt her—but she provoked me. Honestly, I wouldn't have cared if she'd tried to flirt with you—"
"—What? You'd let her flirt with me?" Elijah cut in, his eyes widening. Samara fixed him with a deadpan stare.
"Why? Are you planning to entertain a woman that shameless?"
"Of course not. I don't give a second thought to other women—why would I ever flirt with someone like her? You're the only one who has the right to charm me." His quick reply earned him an eye roll.
"Good. But what I was saying is—I'd be fine with her trying because I know you'd turn her away. But making our daughter cry? I'll go back to the person I was before just to protect Veronica."
Elijah reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You look incredible even when you're mad—but it's moments like this that make me fall in love with you all over again. The same Samara I fell for years ago. Our daughter is lucky to have you as her mother… and of course, a father like me."
A small smile finally touched Samara's lips.
"But you're even more beautiful when you smile like that," Elijah continued. "Forget about her—she'll pay for making our little girl upset."
Samara nodded with a sigh. "I don't want to inflate your ego, but it made me even angrier when I remembered she calls you 'Eli.' Why do women like your secretary even exist?"
"I'm glad you're jealous—it means you still love me enough to want me all to yourself," he said warmly. "But you have nothing to fear from anyone. You know I'm only crazy about you—and always will be."
Samara's smile deepened. "Enough about her. What about Wilson Clemente? Did he finally cut ties with Mancini?"
"He resisted at first, but he had no choice but to confess. Right now, his soul is probably bound for hell."
"You killed the spy in your company?"
"Let's just say he won't be a problem anymore. Don't worry, darling—there's not a drop of blood in my conference room. I used a new tranquilizer I developed; cardiac arrest will be listed as the cause. Scott is handling the arrangements."
Samara nodded. "If you're heading to meet Lorenzo and Mancini, drop us off at Veridian. We'll wait there until you're done with whatever business you have with him."
"Are you planning to look into Veridian's operations while you're there?"
"I wasn't going to—but since I don't want to go back to the manor without you, we'll make ourselves comfortable there."
"Then I'll wrap things up quickly. I don't want you two waiting any longer than necessary."
When they pulled up outside Veridian, Elijah walked Samara and Veronica inside before heading out.
"Where's Daddy going, Mommy?" Veronica asked, her big eyes looking up at her mother.
"Daddy has some work to finish, baby, but he'll be back soon. Why don't you finish your drawing so you can show it to him when he returns?"
Veronica's face lit up, and she dashed to the center table to pull out her art supplies.
Samara made her way to her desk to review Veridian's sales reports—she had some free time, after all. Moments later, the door opened, and her coffee shop manager, Mrs. Castro, stepped in.
"Good afternoon, ma'am."
"Hello, Mrs. Castro. What can I do for you?"
"I'm glad you stopped by today. A television station has sent over a proposal—they want to use Veridian as a location for a commercial shoot." She laid a folder of documents on the desk.
"Thank you for letting me know."
"I know you've always preferred to keep Veridian out of the public eye, ma'am—away from people who might want to exploit it for personal gain. But I think this could be good for us. It would give Veridian great exposure on social media."
Samara smiled at her manager's concern. "I'll consider it carefully, Mrs. Castro. Thank you."
Once the manager had left, Samara picked up the folder and skimmed through the pages.
"AZ21? They want to use Veridian for a movie shoot too?" She set the papers down, leaning back in her chair. "Should I say yes?"
Her phone rang before she could think further. She frowned when she saw the call was from an unknown number—she never answered those. But something made her fingers tap the "accept" button anyway.
"Hel—"
"—The game isn't over yet, Cortez… or should I say Penelton now?"
Samara froze. The caller knew her name—but their voice was distorted by a changer, making it impossible to place.
"Who are you?"
"I'm the one who started the downfall of Senza Pietá. Did you really think I'd let you and Penelton live happily while I suffer?"
Samara's gut twisted—she knew this person, but she couldn't put a name to the voice.
"Stop threatening me and show your face. Stop hiding behind a voice changer."
The caller laughed—a cold, sharp sound. "Don't worry, Cortez. You'll find out soon enough. But for now… let me give you and Penelton a little 'welcome back' gift."
"What do you mean—"
Gunshots cut her off mid-sentence. Veronica froze, her crayon clattering to the floor.
Samara heard screams echoing from outside her office.
"I hope you survive this, Cortez," the caller said as Samara continuebto hear the gun shots.
Samara ignored the unknown man on the phone, her attention fixed on the chaos erupting around them. She rushed to the door and pulled it open to see panicked customers streaming out of the coffee shop.
As the last person fled, men outside took aim at the building. Samara cursed under her breath and scrambled back inside, diving for Veronica just as bullets rained down on Veridian.
She shielded her daughter with her body, pressing them both to the floor. Glass shattered, vases exploded, and walls bore the impact of countless rounds.
"Mommy!" Veronica whimpered.
"It's okay, baby. I've got you."
The gunfire finally stopped. Samara heard vehicles speeding away, but she didn't dare move yet.
"Baby, stay right here. Don't move an inch, okay?"
"Please don't leave me," Veronica whispered, tears in her eyes.
"I'll be right back—I just need to check outside. Stay here, I mean it."
Samara stood slowly, wincing as pain shot through her arm. She peered cautiously through the bullet-riddled door. The coffee shop was in ruins—broken glass littered the floor, tables were overturned, and everything was covered in dust and debris.
Her first thought was her staff. Her heart hammered as she made her way to the counter—then she let out a breath of relief. They were all huddled safely underneath it.
"Ma'am! Are you okay?" one of the baristas asked, her voice trembling.
"I'm fine. Did anyone get hurt?"
"N-no, ma'am. We hid as soon as we heard the first shot—but your arm! You're bleeding!"
Samara glanced down at her right arm, where blood was seeping through her sleeve.
"It's just a scratch. Nothing to worry about."
She told her staff to go home for the day to ensure their safety, then returned to her office. Her phone lay on the floor, still connected to the call.
She picked it up and held it to her ear, her voice ice-cold.
"Is this your idea of a 'welcome gift'—spraying my coffee shop with bullets?"
The caller laughed again. "Did you like it? I'm just getting started on making you pay, Cortez."
With that, the line went dead.
Samara dropped the phone, barely noticing the blood dripping from her arm. Her mind was racing, focused only on the mysterious caller—and the certainty that an old enemy had returned to haunt them.
"Who the hell are you?" she whispered, already knowing Elijah would move heaven and earth to find out.