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Her laugh was the same one I remembered—a little too high-pitched, a little too smug.
“I’m sure you have. He only ever wanted the best for you, you know that, right?” Samantha asked.
I felt my chest tighten, memories clawing up to the surface.
I remembered the way Marcus would call me up after Samantha’s reports, her voice feeding his insecurities and paranoia.
I remembered the fear, the endless accusations.
“Maybe I did then, but I don’t now,” I said, my words coming out sharper than I intended.
Cole shifted closer, his fingers pressing comfortingly against me.
Samantha’s gaze flicked to Cole, something in her smile twisting.
“Well, if you ever want to chat, catch up on things, I’m sure Marcus would love to know you’re doing well. He worries, you know,” she said.
The subtle threat in her words wasn’t lost on me, and Cole heard it too; his jaw clenched visibly.
But this time, I wasn’t cowering. Not anymore.
“That’s funny,” I said, my voice steady, “because I don’t.”
Samantha’s smile faltered, and in that moment, I saw it—the flicker of frustration in her eyes.
I had changed, and I could see that realization land.
“Well,” she said finally, her voice tight, “I’ll let you two…enjoy your day.”
As she walked away, the tension in my body slowly ebbed.
I took a deep breath, looking down at my hands, which were still shaking slightly.
“Are you okay?” Cole’s voice was low and soft, and I could feel his gaze on me.
But when I glanced up, he wasn’t looking at me with pity or anger. Just…concern.
I nodded, my throat tight.
“I didn’t expect to see her again. Samantha was always Marcus’s…little messenger,” I said.
I continued, “She’d report everything I did, every time I spoke to someone he didn’t know about, every time I stayed out a littletoo late. She’d even make up stories just to make sure he kept me in line.”
Cole’s expression darkened, and I felt his arm tense around me.
“If I’d known…” he trailed off, frustration evident in his voice.
I placed my hand on his chest, trying to calm him.
“You didn’t know. And I don’t need you to fight my battles,” I reminded him.
I could tell he was struggling to respect that, and it made me realize something.
Unlike Marcus, Cole’s protectiveness didn’t feel like a cage. It wasn’t stifling or demanding, or some twisted means of possession.
When Cole watched over me, it didn’t come with rules or conditions or the fear of disappointing him.
His protectiveness wasn’t about control; it was about care.