Jake's recovery was steady—slow, fragile, but steady.
He woke with hoarse whispers, weak smiles, and a hand that always found Samantha's when he drifted back to sleep.
She never left the room for more than a few minutes.
Her world shrank to the size of a hospital chair and the man lying in that bed.
Until the door opened one morning…
and someone from another lifetime stepped inside.
---
Rachel Hart.
Tall, elegant, impossibly composed—like she walked off the page of a luxury magazine.
Hazel eyes, glossy hair, a voice soft enough to sound trustworthy… but sharp enough to be dangerous.
She carried a bouquet and an expression that said she already belonged here.
Samantha stiffened instantly.
Rachel blinked at her in polite surprise.
"Oh. You must be Samantha Bradley."
Her smile was warm, practiced. "I've heard so much about you."
Samantha said nothing.
Rachel moved closer to the bed, touching Jake's arm gently—too gently to be innocent.
