Harper sat in her car in a parking lot, trying to calm down. But now, in the silence, the familiar disorientation crept back in.

“Stop,” she told herself. “Think.”

She'd been given four years back, somehow. The last thing she could recall clearly was being thirty on the bridge. And then... waking up at twenty-six.

Harper closed her eyes, trying to force the memories to surface. How had it gone originally?

Fragments came back in pieces. In her original timeline Oliver was in charge, not her, and there had been problems. Ivan Vernon... Ivan had been involved somehow, hadn't he?

The harder she tried, the more the details slipped away.

"Come on," Harper whispered. "You lived through this. Remember."

She was hardly aware of the acquisition at the time. She recalled her father being angry about something, but she couldn't remember what it was about.

“Ahh…”

The headaches had been getting her throughout the day, especially when she tried to force the memories. It was like her brain was protecting her from something, keeping the future locked away.

What she knew clearly was the end. The scandal that had destroyed everything, Henry and Vernon’s family. Betrayal was crystal clear. That’s probably why it hurt so much.

But the details of how they'd gotten there? Not in her head.

She tried to list what she could evoke:

Mid-November

Oliver, betrayal?

Christmas 

Ivan... the cause of it?

"This Christmas would be…" Harper muttered. This last note bothered her most. “What else was there?”

Harper started the car, trying to push away the frustration. Maybe she was losing her mind.

Whatever games Vernon brothers were playing, she had work to do. The memories would come back when they came back. 

“Or they wouldn't.”

Either way, she had to move forward. But one thought kept nagging at her: What if trying to change things only made them worse?

Harper pushed through the doors of H Consulting. 

"Ms. Owen, I wasn't expecting you today." The assistant looked up with a practiced smile.

"Emergency meeting. My office, five minutes."

Harper strode past the reception desk toward her cozy office, her mind already racing through damage control. She had maybe three hours to put her consulting firm on autopilot before her father's acquisition consumed her entirely.

In five minutes, her team of three was already assembled, looking curious and slightly concerned.

"I need everything paused," Harper announced without preamble. "The tech startup merger, the pharmaceutical restructuring - everything."

"Everything?" Jessica, her consultant, frowned. "Harper, the pharma deadline is next week."

"Reassign it to external contractors. Bill them whatever it costs."

"And the other deal? That's a twelve-month project."

Harper's teeth clenched. "Put it on hold. Do whatever you have to do."

Her team exchanged glances. Harper could see the questions in their eyes, the concern about her judgment.

"This is temporary," she added, though she wasn't entirely sure that was true. "A few months at most."

"What's the emergency?" her assistant asked carefully.

"Family business."

The words tasted bitter. Everything always came back to the family business with the Owens.

"Harper," Jessica leaned forward, "the firm can't just go on hiatus. We have obligations."

"Handle them fast. In a week, I’ll need you in Owen’s headquarters."

The room fell silent. 

"I'll be reachable by phone for emergencies only." 

This conversation felt like it was closing in. Every word was a betrayal of the life she’d built to escape Henry’s control.

Before anyone could ask more questions, she stood and opened the door, pointing everyone out. 

"Make it work, now." Harper's voice was sharp. 

When everybody left, Harper began the tedious process of delegation and postponement. 

She canceled client calls with curt emails, then shoved projects onto her overwhelmed assistant. She’d remembered weeks of perfecting these pitches in her past life. 

This firm was her proof that she could outrun her father Henry’s shadow, and was now on hold. She’d fallen right into another trap, and the realization made her want to scream.

Her phone buzzed. Henry.

"Harper."

"Father."

"How's your plan with LV going?"

Harper glanced at her watch. "It's been one day."

"Long enough to assess the situation. What's your read on a team?"

Harper closed her eyes. "Cooperative."

"And Ivan Vernon?"

The name made her pause. "What about him?"

"I want to know if he's going to be a problem."

"He seems..."

"Is he going to protect his people? Try to fight us on integration?” Henry showered her with questions. “Will he make this messier than it needs to be?"

Harper thought about Ivan's controlled demeanor, the way he'd watched everything without revealing anything. 

"I don't think so. He understands the business realities."

"Good. The senior management?"

"I haven't met them yet. That's on schedule."

"Make sure you do. I want to know who's worth keeping and who needs to go."

Harper's stomach twisted. “Huh..."

"This is business, Harper. Sentiment doesn't.."

"I know that."

"Are you able to handle the decisions that matter?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you want independence, you need to show me you understand what the responsibility of a leader means."

"And if I don't meet your standards?"

Henry's silence was answer enough.

"There are other paths for you," he said slowly. 

The threat was subtle but clear. Succeed, or obey whatever Henry deemed appropriate. And Harper knew that the last option did not end well for her. 

"I understand."

"I hope you do. Show me everything you have on LV by eight."

The line went dead.

“Control freak!” Harper shouted at her phone.

She kicked her chair, sending it into the wall with a thud. 

“Every damn time,” she sounded venomous.

She felt the familiar weight that managed her entire life. Her father always found a way to pull her back in, to make her dance to his tune.

Henry’s orders were non-negotiable, and now she was neck-deep in this, alongside Ivan Vernon. The thought of him made her grit her teeth, but she had bigger problems.

Harper opened her laptop, ready to pull together the acquisition report. She needed valuations and notes from earlier. 

Easy enough, she thought, clicking into her cloud drive. Except… the folder was empty. 

Her heart stuttered. She refreshed the page, then checked again, her fingers trembling over the trackpad. No meeting notes. Nothing. Just a blank screen and a “sync error” message mocking her.

“No, no, no,” she muttered, her pulse spiking. 

She tried logging out and back in. Then she checked her backup drive. Empty.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she snarled, smacking her laptop shut. 

She rubbed her eyes. The files she needed were on her tablet, the tablet she’d left at the office in headquarters. She was too distracted by May’s visit to sync the files properly.

Harper grabbed her phone, her hands clammy as she opened the cloud app, praying for a miracle. 

“Come on, please, work,” she whispered, but the app only spat back the same error. 

She slammed the phone down, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. If she didn’t deliver that report, Henry’d see it as proof she belonged in his world, following his rules. 

She could hear him saying. There are other paths for you. 

“Show up empty-handed, and be back under his thumb.” She muttered. 

The thought made her sick, a cold knot of terror twisting in her gut. She’d been so sure she could beat him this time, but what if she wasn’t smart enough to pull this off?

She glanced at her phone: 5:47 PM. The office was a 20-minute drive, assuming traffic didn’t screw her over. If she left now, she’d grab the tablet and could show Henry something.

“Perfect.”

She had to go back to face Ivan in that cramped office space he'd already marked as his territory.

She had to admit she’d screwed up by leaving her tablet behind. He’d probably already noticed it, sitting there on the desk they grudgingly shared.

“Get it together, Harper,” she muttered. The terror of losing her shot at independence was worse than swallowing her pride and walking into that office. 

Her heart was pounding as she was leaving her firm’s office. The whiteboard, with its paused plans and canceled pitches, seemed to mock her on her way.

The drive was endless, with every red light amplifying Harper’s panic. She was mentally rehearsing what she’d say if Ivan was there. 

Just forgot my tablet. Not a big deal. Don’t need your help. 

She wasn’t about to let him think she was drowning, even if she was.

“Get through the door, then past Ivan,” Harper tried to breathe deeply. “Then Henry.” 

Harper stood outside Henry Owen’s building. The tower loomed above her, while she was gathering her courage and hoping to slip in and out without a confrontation. 

The security guard recognized her and waved her through. She nodded and went to the lifts.

She could see Ivan Vernon through the glass partition before she even reached the door. Still at his desk working. 

“Of course.”