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It hurt.
It was a hard, bitter pill to swallow that the man she’d loved, the father of her children, hadn’twantedher to succeed. He had wanted hertethered. To him. To the boys. No dreams that lived outside the walls of their home. No ambition that didn’t servehisimage of a perfect life.
He’d taken her identity.
When he died, she hadn’t just lost her husband, she’d lost the scaffolding he’d built around her.Even if it had been a cage.
No wonder she’d crashed so hard.
She hadn’t known who she was anymore.
But then, warmth bloomed in her chest.
Dagger.
His voice echoed in her memory, steady and quiet:You worked your ass off for that degree. You were made for more than just being someone’s wife.
He hadseenher, even when she was too angry, too grief-blind to see herself.
He had never asked for anything in return. Never demanded. Never pushed.
He’d just… waited.
Held her strength inside him like a secret, carrying it until she was ready to take it back.
Maybe, just maybe, she was.
Langford smirked but didn’t push.
The SUV rolled to a stop at an intersection. Beyond the gates, the skeletal frame of her embassy rose like a promise.
She had fought like hell for this contract. For the right to shape something not just functional, but meaningful. A placewhere diplomacy would breathe. Not just a fortress, but a future with a bridge to a country that was struggling.
Despite the storm raging inside her, she felt… steady.
The SUV passed through the checkpoint, tires crunching against dry earth as the vehicle pulled forward into the active construction zone.
Cement dust. Heated metal. The scent of sparks on steel.
Her arena.
She stepped out of the SUV and squared her shoulders as the sun beat down. Her gaze fixed on the rising beams of steel and glass,her bones,her vision.
This place would be built.
Just like her.
She could already see it in her mind, the glass-paneled facade gleaming under the Venezuelan sun, energy-efficient and modern, the sustainability features seamlessly integrated into the design. Solar panels, rainwater harvesting systems, temperature-regulating green spaces. Not just a fortress. A hub. A place of diplomacy and function.
Langford exhaled beside her. “Lot of work left.”
“It’s a blank canvas,” she countered, already envisioning the final form. “A damn good one.”
The SUV rolled to a stop, dust settling around them. Ahead, the beams rose to the sky, the bones of her masterpiece, and a thrill went through her, her creative energy pushing her out of the vehicle, eager to meet the resident project director and unveil her vision to someone who was going to make it a reality.
As she stepped onto the site, the sun was relentless against her scalp. She donned her floppy hat, the heat pressing down like an unforgiving hand, and sweat was already slipping down her back beneath the light dress she wore. The faint scent of diesel and hot metal clung to the air, mingling with the earthy, sunbaked scent of exposed dirt.
Piper McDonald stood near the trailer, arms crossed, her sharp blue eyes scanning the perimeter like she expected trouble at any moment. The trailer behind her was a sun-faded prefab unit with dented siding and a warped screen door that creaked on its hinges. A humming generator sat beside it, cords trailing toward the building like veins feeding its lifeblood. A rusted fan churned lazily in one open window, barely stirring the thick heat that clung to everything.