Hailey's POV
By the time I walked into Norway Group Headquarters the next morning, the building already knew I was coming.
Glass doors slid open with a whisper that felt more like a warning than a welcome. My heels struck the marble floor in sharp, deliberate beats, each step echoing through the atrium like a countdown. Heads turned, the ones having conversations faltered and bowed their heads, Phones lowered mid-scroll. The employees didn't stare openly—they never did—but I felt the weight of their attention all the same but all that wasn't my concern for now.
Hailey Norway was back.
Not the runaway heiress, not the divorcee.
Not the woman whose name had been spoken in hushed tones for two years like a cautionary tale.
This time, I was here to stay and shake tables.
