---- Chapter 6 Supported by Noah, and a few new friends from Rosie' s who' d seen through the lies, | started to heal. The town, once a place of potential judgment, became a sanctuary again. One afternoon, Sarah, the owner of the bakery downstairs, a woman with flour perpetually on her apron and kindness in her eyes, asked about my sketches. Noah had, apparently, sung my praises. "Heard you' re an architect, dear," she said, wiping her hands. "My cousin, Martha, runs a small firm over in Kingston. Focuses on community projects, sustainable stuff. She' s looking for someone. Thought of you." Kingston was a larger town, about an hour' s drive away. A real architectural firm. Ethical, community-focused. It sounded too good to be true. But Martha Periwinkle was real. A woman in her fifties, with a no-nonsense attitude and a passion for thoughtful design. She looked at my portfolio - the few salvaged pieces, my new sketches of local life, and the community center design that had caused such a disaster at the gala. ---- She didn't see a scandal. She saw potential. "This community center," she said, tapping the drawing. "It's got heart, Mia. And brains. That' s a rare combination." She offered me a job. Junior architect. Not just a drafter. A designer. My hands shook as | accepted. My relationship with Noah deepened. Friendship blossomed into something more, quiet and steady, like the river that flowed through town. He was everything Ethan was not. Stable. Respectful. Kind. He saw me, not as a possession or an accessory, but as a person. He celebrated my small victories at Martha' s firm, listened patiently when | struggled with a difficult design. He never tried to fix me, only to support me as | fixed myself. He represented safety, and a future | hadn' t dared to dream of, Meanwhile, in New York City, Ethan Cole was unraveling. His attempts to find me grew more frantic. He neglected his ---- work at Cole & Vance. His carefully constructed world was crumbling, all because one small part of it - me - had refused to stay in her designated place. He started to realize, in his own twisted way, what he' d lost. Not love, not in the way Noah offered it. But control. Comfort. A familiar scapegoat. He framed it as Mia "owing" him. For his past "generosity." For the years she' d been "part of his life." His obsession was a dark, possessive thing, a stark contrast to the gentle light Noah brought into my world. Isabella, | heard through the grapevine of city gossip that still sometimes reached me, was furious. His distraction, his constant talk of finding me, was more than her ego could bear. Their toxic bond was fraying, not because of any newfound morality on Ethan' s part, but because his obsession had found a new, more urgent focus: me, the one who got away. | tried not to think about him | had a new job, a new life, a new love. | was building something real, something good, in the clean ---- hs in id air of upstate New York. Ethan Cole, and the gilded cage he represented, felt a million miles away. But a part of me, a small, wary part, knew he wasn't the type to give up easily. Not when his pride was at stake.