Tracy waited until Alex left again that morning, his schedule swallowing him whole as usual. The penthouse door clicked shut, leaving her in silence. But this time, silence didn’t feel like a cage.
It felt like an opportunity.
She opened the laptop again and pulled up the Carter Industries file, her pulse steady now. The words that had terrified her hours before burned differently now—like fuel. She read every line, memorized every bullet point. Carter thought he could write her story. Spin her into a stereotype.
Not this time.
She started by making a list of her own. Things she could control. Things she couldn’t.
Control: her voice, her truth, the way people saw her if she fought back.
Not control: the media, the paparazzi, Alex’s ironclad way of keeping her in check.
Still, she had
