Becca
Six months later.
I’m standing in my own office.
It isn’t borrowed. It isn’t shared. It definitely wasn’t gifted to me by anyone with the last name Hale. The name etched into the frosted glass door reads Snow Consulting. It’s simple, and entirely mine.
My laptop is open, my inbox is full, and for the first time in a while, the money hitting my bank account isn't tied to blackmail, revenge, or corporate warfare. It’s just work. Honest, quiet work.
My phone vibrates on the desk. Nate.
I swipe to answer. “Yeah?”
“You coming or what?” he asks
“I’m working, Nate.”
“You own the place. You can leave whenever you want.”
“That is exactly the opposite of how owning a business works.”
“Agree to disagree,” he snorts. “Just don’t flake. I know you.”
“I’m not flaking. f**k off.”
“Love
