13. Confronting the Past
Confronting the Past
Samantha
The night air is thick with tension, gravel crunching under careful footsteps as the figure moves closer to the gate. My pulse hammers in my ears. The glow of the headlights slices through the darkness, illuminating a face I never wanted to see again.
My stomach tightens. My breath catches. My fingers curl into fists, but unease hums beneath my skin.
Rachel.
She steps forward, wrapped in a sleek black coat, her hair perfectly styled—as if she hasn’t just traveled miles to ambush me in the middle of nowhere. Her polished heels contrast sharply against the dirt road, yet she looks entirely unbothered, like she owns the ground she stands on.
Beside me, Drake stiffens, his broad shoulders squared. His hand brushes against mine—a silent, steadying gesture. I don’t look at him, but I feel his strength. It anchors me, keeps me from unraveling.
“Who are you?” Drake demands, his voice edged with warning.
Rachel’s lips curve into a tight, calculated smile. “I’m here to see Samantha. We have unfinished business.”
Drake turns to me, his brow furrowed. “You know her?”
I force myself to swallow the bitterness rising in my throat. “Yes. She’s my former boss.”
Drake’s gaze sharpens as he turns back to Rachel. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here uninvited.”
Rachel tilts her head, the picture of feigned amusement. “This is between Samantha and me. You might want to stay out of it.”
“Not a chance,” Drake replies, his tone cold as steel.
I take a slow, measured step forward, keeping my voice steady. “What do you want, Rachel?”
She sighs, crossing her arms. “I warned you, didn’t I? You didn’t return my calls, so I had no choice but to come here. We have things to settle.”
My jaw tightens. “There’s nothing left to settle. You lied. You threw me under the bus to save yourself. And now you think you can just show up here and—what? Threaten me again?”
Rachel’s expression remains poised, but I catch the flicker of irritation beneath the surface. “I didn’t come to threaten you,” she says smoothly. “I came to give you one last chance to make things right.”
Drake shifts beside me, his tension palpable. “She doesn’t owe you anything,” he says. “And you’re trespassing.”
Rachel’s smirk deepens. “I see you’ve found yourself a knight in shining armor. How sweet.”
Drake doesn’t flinch. “Leave.”
Rachel hesitates, her eyes flicking between us. For a moment, I think she might actually back down. But then she straightens, her smirk returning as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a manila folder.
“Here,” she says, tossing it onto the ground at my feet. “Consider it a little reminder of what’s at stake.”
Drake picks up the folder, his expression darkening as he flips it open. Inside are printed emails, old photos, and documents—Rachel’s carefully curated attempt to intimidate me.
My throat tightens as I scan the pages. Selected messages, clipped conversations—pieces of a puzzle twisted to make me look guilty.
Drake exhales slowly, his grip tightening on the folder. “Nice try,” he says, snapping it shut. “Now get out of here.”
Rachel shrugs, her smirk firmly in place. “You’ll be hearing from me, Samantha. And next time, it won’t be a courtesy call.”
She gets back into her car, the tires kicking up gravel as she speeds away.
The silence she leaves behind feels deafening. Drake and I stand there for a long moment, the weight of the encounter settling over us like a heavy blanket.
“You okay?” he asks finally, his voice soft.
I exhale shakily. “No. But I will be.”
Inside the house, Drake makes tea—his version of damage control.
He sets a mug in front of me, then pulls out the chair across from mine, waiting. His gaze is steady, unwavering.
“Talk to me,” he says.
I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic, willing the tension from my body. “Rachel was my boss in publishing. She made a huge mistake—something that could have cost the company millions. And when it all fell apart, she pinned the blame on me.”
Drake stays silent, giving me space to speak.
We spread the contents of the folder across the kitchen table. The photos are from corporate events years ago, the emails carefully selected to paint me in a bad light. It’s a calculated move, designed to make me doubt myself.
Drake picks up one of the photos, his jaw tightening. “She’s trying to make you feel trapped.”
“She’s succeeding,” I whisper.
His eyes darken. “Don’t let her win, Samantha. You’ve come too far for that.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t have the power to fight back before. She threatened to ruin my reputation if I didn’t take the fall. So I left. I thought if I started over somewhere far away, I could put it behind me.”
Drake exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “And now she’s trying to drag you back into it.”
I nod, a lump forming in my throat. “I don’t know what to do. She’s powerful, Drake. She has connections. If she wants to ruin me, she can.”
Drake’s hand finds mine. He doesn’t just hold it—he grips it, firm and steady. “So do I. And I won’t let anyone take you down.”
His words settle something inside me. I’m not alone in this. Not anymore.
The next morning, I wake up with a plan.
Rachel’s visit rattled me, but it also gave me something valuable: clarity.
I refuse to let her dictate my life anymore.
Drake and I spend the morning researching Merrit Holdings. The more we uncover, the worse it gets.
“This company has a history of aggressive acquisitions,” I murmur, scanning an old news article. “They target struggling businesses, offer ‘help,’ then take control.”
Drake leans over my shoulder, reading. “That’s exactly what they tried to do to my dad.”
We decide to drive into town to meet with Sheriff Mason. Drake lays out everything—the hidden documents, the threats, Rachel’s sudden appearance.
“This is a tangled web,” Mason mutters, flipping through the papers. “If Merrit Holdings is involved, you need to be careful. They don’t play fair.”
Drake’s jaw hardens. “Neither do I.”
“What about Jack Reed?” I ask. “He’s connected to all of this, isn’t he?”
Mason nods. “I’ll see what I can dig up.” He looks between us, his expression serious. “In the meantime, keep your guard up. If Rachel showed up here, there’s a reason.”
Back at the ranch, Emmy’s laughter is a welcome contrast to the tension simmering beneath the surface.
She’s busy perfecting Daisy’s decorations for the upcoming showcase, utterly unaware of the storm circling around us.
“You’re doing great, kiddo,” Drake tells her as she twirls in excitement.
Samantha nudges him, smiling. “You’re really good with her, you know.”
Drake glances at me, something unreadable in his eyes. “She’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”
The warmth in his voice tugs at something deep in my chest.
As the sun sets, a car approaches the gate.
Drake and I step onto the porch. His hand rests instinctively near his belt, where his knife is strapped.
“Stay here,” he orders.
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m coming with you.”
He hesitates, searching my face. Then he nods. “Alright. Let’s go.”
We walk side by side to the gate, the car’s headlights cutting long shadows across the gravel.
Then the driver notices us and slowly turns the car around.
As the car pivots, the moonlight illuminates his face.
Drake tenses. “Samantha, do you know who that is?”
A chill slides down my spine.
I swallow hard. “They’re connected to Merrit Holdings.”
And if they’re here, it means we’re in deeper trouble than we ever imagined.