---- Chapter 7 Martha' s firm, "Periwinkle & Partners," wasn' t Cole & Vance Global. There were no gleaming steel towers, no hushed, carpeted corridors. It was a small, slightly cluttered office above a bookstore in Kingston, filled with natural light, plants, and the smell of old paper and new ideas. Martha believed architecture could change lives, not just skylines. She valued my community-centric designs, my focus on sustainability. She gave me responsibility, trusted my instincts. For the first time in my professional life, | felt seen, valued. My confidence, so long battered and bruised, began to mend. One of our biggest projects was a new wing for the regional hospital where Noah worked. They needed more space, updated facilities, a place that felt healing, not institutional. ---- | poured my heart into the design. | called it "Concrete Daisies." The name came to me one afternoon, watching a stubborn daisy push its way through a crack in a city sidewalk. Resilience. Beauty in unexpected places. The design incorporated natural light, green spaces, art from local artists. It was functional but also human. It aimed to be a place where hope could bloom, even amidst concrete and steel. The hospital board loved it. My design won the contract. "Concrete Daisies" was going to be built. There was a small article in the local paper, a picture of me smiling, Martha by my side, in front of a rendering of the new wing. Local acclaim. It felt good. Real. The groundbreaking ceremony was a bright, chilly morning. Local dignitaries, hospital staff, community members. Noah was there, his eyes shining with pride. | felt a sense of accomplishment, a quiet joy. ---- This was it. This was my new life. Then | saw him. Standing at the edge of the crowd, instantly recognizable even in the unfamiliar setting. Ethan Cole. My blood ran cold. The joy curdled in my stomach. How? How had he found me? He looked out of place in his expensive city suit, his expression a mixture of desperation and something unreadable. He started towards me, pushing through the small crowd. The speeches droned on, but | couldn' t hear them. All | could see was Ethan, closing the distance. He reached me just as the mayor finished speaking "Mia." His voice was hoarse. "We need to talk." "There' s nothing to talk about, Ethan," | said, my voice surprisingly steady. Noah moved closer, a silent presence at my side. "Yes, there is," Ethan insisted, his eyes flicking to Noah with a flash of anger. "| need you. | need you to come back to New York." ---- He looked almost... broken. But |' d seen his act too many times. "Isabella is out of the picture," he said, a desperate edge to his voice. "It' s over between us. For good this time." A lie? A temporary separation? It didn' t matter. "I'm not going back, Ethan," | said, my voice firm. "| have a life here. A good life." | gestured to the construction site, the rendering of "Concrete Daisies." "lm building things here. Things you can' t touch. Things you can't ruin." My strength surprised me. This wasn' t the timid, broken Mia he knew. He looked shaken, as if he didn' t recognize this version of me. "Mia, please..." Suddenly, a shrill voice cut through the air. "Ethan! There you are!" Isabella. She pushed her way through the crowd, her face a mask of fury, perfectly coiffed hair slightly askew. She must have followed him. ---- Her eyes landed on me, and her expression twisted into pure venom. "You! You bitch! | knew you' d try to lure him away!" She lunged at me, nails outstretched. Noah stepped in front of me, blocking her path. "That' s enough, Ms. Vance," he said, his voice calm but firm. Isabella shrieked, trying to push past him. "Get out of my way! VILkill her!" The scene was public, messy, humiliating. But this time, | wasn' t the one cowering. | stood my ground, Noah a steady shield. Ethan looked from Isabella' s screaming face to my calm defiance, to Noah' s protective stance. The confidence, the arrogance, seemed to drain out of him. He looked lost, defeated. The local news crew, there for the groundbreaking, had turned their cameras towards the commotion. This wasn' t the kind of publicity Cole & Vance Global, or the Vance family, would appreciate. The concrete daisies felt a long way off, but the concrete of ---- my resolve was solid under my feet.