Chapter 136

Chapter 136
Three months had passed since that quiet farewell in Jay's hospital room.

Spring arrived in full force, painting the city in fresh greens and pastels. Harper stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of Starlight Building's executive suite, reviewing the quarterly financial report with quiet satisfaction.

The collaboration with Vista Apparel had exceeded all projections. Her design team had expanded to fifteen people, and international orders were flooding in faster than they could fulfill them.

"Harper, the Milan Fashion Week committee just confirmed your showcase slot for next season." Missy burst through the door, waving her tablet excitedly. "You're officially going global!"

Harper's lips curved into a genuine smile—the kind that had become more frequent lately. "Set up a meeting with the design team. We need to start planning immediately."

Her phone buzzed. Chase's name appeared on the screen.

"Ms. Anderson, I'm downstairs. Lunch meeting to discuss the European expansion strategy?"

Harper grabbed her coat. "On my way."

In the underground garage, she nearly collided with someone stepping out of the elevator.

Brandon.

He looked haggard—suit wrinkled, stubble shadowing his jaw, eyes bloodshot with exhaustion. The powerful CEO image had crumbled, replaced by something hollow and desperate.

"Harper." His voice cracked. "Please, just five minutes."

She took a measured step back, maintaining professional distance. "Mr. Martinez, we have nothing to discuss."

"I signed over the shares." Brandon pulled out a document folder with trembling hands. "Thirty percent of Martinez Group stock, transferred to your name. No conditions, no strings attached. I just... I need you to know I meant every word."

Harper glanced at the papers without touching them. Her expression remained neutral, almost bored. "I never asked for your money or your guilt, Brandon. Keep your shares. Build your empire. That was always what mattered most to you anyway."

"That's not—" His voice broke completely. "You're what matters. You're all that matters now."

"Now." Harper repeated the word with clinical precision, as if dissecting a particularly uninteresting specimen. "That's the problem, isn't it? It's always now with you. Now that I'm gone. Now that you've lost control. Now that someone else sees my value."

She checked her watch with deliberate casualness. "I have a lunch appointment. Excuse me."

Brandon blocked her path, not threateningly, just desperately. "Is it Rodriguez? Are you... are you two together?"

The question was so absurd that Harper almost laughed. "That's none of your business. But I'll tell you this—Chase sees me as an equal, as a partner. He respects my boundaries and my autonomy. He doesn't need to possess me to value me."

"I can change. I have changed—"

"Brandon." She cut him off, her tone not angry, just tired. "Some things break beyond repair. We're one of them. The man I needed three years ago doesn't exist anymore, and the woman you want now is someone I had to kill to survive. We're strangers who once shared a marriage certificate. That's all."

Chase's sleek black car pulled into the garage. He stepped out, taking in the scene with those sharp, tactical eyes that missed nothing.

"Ms. Anderson." He nodded courteously to Harper, then acknowledged Brandon with cool civility. "Martinez."

Brandon's hands clenched into fists, but he didn't move. The contrast between them was stark—Chase, composed and confident, treating Harper with easy respect; Brandon, disheveled and desperate, radiating barely contained anguish.

Harper walked past Brandon without a backward glance. Chase opened the car door for her with practiced courtesy, and they drove away.

In the rearview mirror, Brandon stood alone in the concrete garage, backlit by fluorescent lights, looking like a man watching his entire world disappear into the distance.

---

The rooftop restaurant offered a panoramic view of the city skyline. Chase poured wine with efficient grace as Harper reviewed the expansion proposal on her tablet.

"The European market is more conservative than you might expect," Chase commented, his tone purely professional. "Vista's reputation will open doors, but you'll need to adapt some design elements for local tastes."

"Already on it." Harper pulled up her revised portfolio. "I've been researching European fashion houses for weeks. The key is balancing innovation with their appreciation for classical craftsmanship."

Chase studied the designs, genuine appreciation flickering in his usually impassive eyes. "You're thorough. I respect that."

Their working relationship had evolved into something comfortable over the past months—mutual respect, shared ambition, clear boundaries. Chase never pushed for more than Harper was willing to give, and she appreciated his restraint.

"Can I ask you something personal?" Chase set down his wine glass, his expression uncharacteristically hesitant.

Harper looked up, curious. "You can ask. I may not answer."

"What you said to Martinez in the garage—about killing the woman you used to be." His gaze was steady, not probing, just interested. "Do you regret it? The loss of who you were?"

Harper considered the question seriously. "I don't regret it. That woman was suffocating. She twisted herself into knots trying to earn love from someone incapable of giving it. She measured her worth by someone else's attention." She paused, staring out at the city sprawling below them. "I didn't kill her. I freed her. This version of me was always here, just buried under layers of hope and self-delusion."

"And now?"

"Now I'm building something that's entirely mine. Something no one can take away or diminish." Harper's voice carried quiet conviction. "I'm discovering who I actually am when I'm not performing for someone else's approval."

Chase nodded slowly. "For what it's worth, I think the Martinez family's loss was the industry's gain."

A genuine smile touched Harper's lips. "Thank you, Chase."

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Robert.

"Harper, Steven wants to know if you're still coming to his piano recital next week. He's been practicing the piece you suggested."

Warmth flooded her chest. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything. Tell him I'm bringing flowers."

After ending the call, she found Chase watching her with an inscrutable expression.

"That child adores you," he observed.

"The feeling's mutual. Steven's a remarkable kid." Harper's voice softened in a way it rarely did. "Robert's doing an incredible job raising him alone."

"Robert's a good man." Chase's tone remained neutral, but there was a question embedded in the statement.

Harper met his gaze directly. "He is. We're friends and business partners. That's all."

"And us?" Chase asked quietly. "What are we?"

The question hung in the air between them—not demanding, just curious.

Harper took a slow sip of wine, considering. "Honestly? I don't know. Right now, I'm not looking for romance or complications. I'm focused on building my company and figuring out who I am outside of relationships and expectations."

"And if I said I'm willing to wait? To see where this goes without pressure or demands?"

"Then I'd say you're either incredibly patient or slightly masochistic." Harper's lips quirked. "I'm not a sure bet, Chase. I'm still putting myself back together. I might never want what you're offering."

"Noted." Chase raised his glass in a small salute. "But for the record, I don't make investments unless I see real potential. And Harper Anderson? You're the best investment I've ever considered."

Despite herself, Harper felt her cheeks warm. "Smooth, Rodriguez. Very smooth."

They finished lunch discussing business strategies, but something had shifted—not dramatically, just subtly. A door had been opened, not walked through, just... acknowledged.