The day after her quiet walk through memory lane and Alexander's unexpected confession felt... calmer than it should have. No scandals broke. No emergency calls from Waverly. Even the board group chat had gone silent.
But Siena Hart couldn't relax.
She stood in front of her bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging from her mouth, staring at her reflection like it might give her answers. There was a new kind of stillness in her face. Not peace exactly—more like fatigue wearing a softer coat.
She washed up, dressed in a soft green blouse and jeans, and pulled her hair into a low bun. It wasn't a power look. It wasn't corporate armor. It was just... normal.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
She glanced at the time—8:43 a.m.
She opened it without asking who it was.
"Good morning," Alexander said, holding a paper bag and a small bouquet of white tulips.
She blinked. "You brought flowers?"
"I googled the language of flowers," he said, stepping inside. "Tulips say 'I care deeply' without sounding like I'm about to propose."
Siena raised an eyebrow. "Are you always this dramatic in the morning?"
"Only when I'm in love."
She froze in the middle of closing the door. He didn't say it casually. He didn't look away after. He just stood there, eyes steady, like he meant every syllable.
"You already said that last night," she reminded him.
"I know. Just checking if you're still pretending you didn't hear it."
She turned toward the kitchen. "You're persistent."
"You're worth the persistence."
She didn't respond to that. Instead, she poured coffee for two, set the flowers in a water bottle—because she still hadn't bought a vase—and passed him a mug.
They sat at the kitchen counter. No grand romantic music. Just the hum of the fridge and the soft clink of spoons against ceramic.
"So," she finally said. "What are we doing?"
Alexander took a slow sip of his coffee. "We're starting a normal day. After not-so-normal weeks."
She narrowed her eyes. "That's vague."
He shrugged. "You like clarity. Okay. We're doing whatever you're ready for."
"That still feels vague."
"Fine. I'm here, Siena. For breakfast. For you. For what's next."
She stared at him, heart thudding in a way that felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable and terrifyingly nice.
"You're not going anywhere, are you?"
"Nope."
"Even if I push you?"
"I'll only go as far as you need me to. But I'll still be in sight."
A silence stretched between them.
Then she said, "I had this plan. Win the board back, clear my name, fix the company. And now…"
"Now it's quiet," he finished.
"Yeah. And quiet makes me nervous."
"Because you're used to fires to put out."
She looked at him. "How do you do it? The stillness?"
"I let it come. And I remind myself that not everything calm is suspicious. Sometimes peace is real."
Siena laughed softly. "I don't know if I believe that yet."
"That's okay. I'll believe it for both of us."
---
Later that morning, Siena sat in her office, the one at Hartline with the glass walls and corner view of the skyline she used to dream about from the rooftop of her childhood apartment.
Waverly stood near the window, going over the reports again.
"They're holding," Waverly said, tapping her tablet. "No new leaks. No retaliation from Trent. I even checked the supplier chain. Everything's stable."
"That's not like him," Siena muttered.
"No, it's not. Which means either he's planning something bigger… or he's rattled."
"Or both."
Waverly crossed her arms. "What's the move?"
Siena didn't answer right away. Instead, she stared at the emails piling up. Invitations to speak at panels. Offers for interviews. PR firms wanting to represent her. Book publishers requesting her story.
All of them were interested in the version of her that stood up to the world. None of them asked how she was holding it together.
"I don't want to give him the spotlight anymore," Siena said. "I want to move forward without his name attached to mine."
Waverly smiled faintly. "That sounds like a CEO I'd follow."
Siena looked up. "You already do."
"Not just as your assistant," Waverly said. "But as your friend. You're handling this with more grace than anyone could've asked for."
Siena's chest tightened. "I'm trying."
"You don't have to try alone."
She nodded slowly. Then added, "Set a meeting with legal. I want to review the new audit protocols. And reach out to PR—we'll decline all interview requests. I'm not a story to be sold."
Waverly raised an eyebrow. "And the book offer?"
Siena's mouth twisted into a grin. "Ask them if they'd still want it if the ending isn't neat."
---
Around noon, Siena found herself in a small downtown café with Alexander. No bodyguards. No cameras. Just the two of them at a quiet corner table.
He ordered her usual without asking.
"How did you remember?" she asked.
"I remember everything," he said simply. "Especially the little things."
They ate in comfortable silence until Siena put her fork down and said, "Why did you come over this morning?"
Alexander leaned back, expression open. "I wanted to see you."
"No. Really."
He hesitated. Then, "Because I think we're on the edge of something."
"Something good?"
"Something real."
She watched him closely. "You're not scared?"
"Terrified," he admitted with a half-smile. "But scared doesn't mean stop. It means to pay attention."
Siena exhaled. "I've never had something real with someone who wasn't trying to control me."
"I'm not trying to control you."
"I know. And that might be the scariest part."
Alexander reached across the table, hand open. Not grabbing. Just waiting.
She placed her hand in his.
---
Back at her apartment that night, Siena scrolled through her phone while curled up on the couch. She stopped on an old photo—one from the early days of Hartline. Before the first investor check. Before the first scandal. Back when she still worked out of a shared co-working space and packed granola bars for lunch.
She looked so different. And the same.
Her phone vibrated.
Alexander: Dinner tomorrow? No work talk. Just us.
She smiled.
Siena: Only if I get to pick the place.
Alexander: Deal.
She stared at the ceiling, heartbeat steady.
For the first time in a long while, the future didn't feel like a storm.
It felt like a sky waiting to clear.