"I didn't want to be found."
"Why?"
Her expression darkened. "Because if I stayed, something worse would've happened."
Samson stopped pacing. The weight of her words sank into the silence between them. He turned to her slowly, watching her, studying the woman she had become. There was something haunted in her eyes, something he hadn't seen in the Candy he once knew. Something fractured. Like a secret she carried was still too dangerous to say aloud.
But before he could ask more, she stepped forward.
"Forget that," she murmured. "Aren't you going to give me anything?"
The air shifted as she closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around him. Her head rested on his chest, and her voice, though muffled, trembled. "I've missed you so much."
Sam placed his hand gently on her back. The circular motion of his palm was slow, grounding. "I missed you, too," he whispered. And for a moment, time stopped. Almost shocked at himself for opening up, he held her tighter than he thought he would.
They didn't notice the click of the office door, nor the quiet intake of breath.
But someone was watching.
Rita.
She stood frozen in the doorway, her expression contorting with shock, then disbelief, then boiling rage.
"Samson!" she snapped.
Both Candy and Sam turned sharply.
Sam's brows furrowed at the sight of her. His face darkened.
In a flurry of motion, Rita stormed over, grabbed Candy by the arm, and yanked her away. She positioned herself between the two siblings like a barrier, her back to Candy.
"Are you cheating on me? With her? This worthless slut?"
The word slammed into the room like a slap.
Candy's patience snapped.
She stepped forward, spinning Rita around with force. "Excuse me? Who do you think you're calling a slut?"
Rita's eyes flared—red with rage, green with envy. She scanned Candy like she was filth, and something deeper twisted in her expression.
"Why are you here? Third wheeling? Trying to ruin my relationship? Get out."
Candy sighed. She didn't want drama. Not now.
She reached for her phone on the desk, but before she could move, she was stopped.
Samson's body pressed into her back, pinning her gently against the desk.
"If you move an inch, you won't like what I'll do," he said lowly, his voice rasping like gravel, dangerously soft. His breath tickled her ear. She swallowed hard, nodding.
His presence was overwhelming.
He turned to Rita.
"Sit," he commanded Candy. She obeyed, quietly taking the visitor chair.
Then he faced Rita. Cold. Controlled.
"You may leave, Rita. I don't need anything from you."
Candy blinked. Rita? As in... Rita from high school?
Rita recoiled as though slapped. "What? You're asking me to leave? For her? Are you fucking insane?"
Sam didn't flinch. "Take the dignity you have left and leave. I have work to do."
He walked to his desk and pressed a button.
"Come to my office now," he said flatly into the intercom.
Rita stared at him, shaking with fury.
"I won't forget this."
And she didn't walk away. She snatched the coffee off the table—the very one Candy had brought—and threw it on her.
The scalding liquid soaked Candy's top. She gasped in pain.
Rita spun on her heels and stormed out, muttering to herself, the echo of her heels slicing the tense air.
Sam was at her side in seconds.
"Are you okay?" he asked, already opening the cabinet under the sink.
Candy hissed, lifting the hem of her top slightly. "It stings. But I'll live."
He pulled out a first-aid kit and a towel. "Take it off," he said, rolling up his sleeves.
She blinked. "What?"
"Your top. I need to clean the burn."
The hesitation only lasted a moment. She remembered all the times he'd treated her cuts and bruises before. It had never mattered.
So she nodded.
She peeled off the top with effort, wincing.
What she didn't notice was how Sam's eyes darkened. His jaw clenched.
The sight of her black bra, the soft curve of her chest—the closeness.
He cursed silently, forcing his eyes away. Control yourself.
She climbed onto the counter as he instructed. He cleaned her skin gently, deliberately avoiding her gaze.
Neither spoke.
The air between them thickened, tension clinging to the edges of every movement, every brush of skin.
When he finished applying the burn cream, he stepped away quickly.
A knock came from the outer office.
"I'll be back," he said hoarsely, leaving.
Moments later, he returned with a bag.
"Clothes. Change," he muttered, placing it on the counter and walking out again.
She changed, pulling on the black denim shorts and oversized T-shirt. It fit perfectly. Almost too perfectly. Like it was picked with her in mind.
When she emerged, he was once again by the window, back turned. His shoulders were tense.
He looked untouchable. Cold. Distant.
"I'm ready," she said softly, picking up her phone.
He grabbed his car keys, not looking at her. "Let's go."
She followed him, trying to keep pace.
"Where?" she asked.
No answer.
Not even a glance.
And something in her gut twisted.
They walked through the building like ghosts—her eyes darting to every face, every space she used to know. She couldn't tell what was more unnerving: Samson's silence, or the fact that her return had already sparked chaos.
Outside, the car waited, sleek and black.
He opened the door for her without a word.
As she slid in, she glanced up at him. His jaw was still tense, his eyes unreadable.
She buckled herself in slowly. The silence inside the car was almost unbearable.
He started the engine, and the hum of it filled the quiet.
Just as the gates opened and the car rolled forward, she finally spoke again.
"Sam... where are we going?"
This time, he answered.
But his voice was low. Grim.
"To finish what Dad started."
****
"I didn't want to be found."
"Why?"
Her expression darkened. "Because if I stayed, something worse would've happened."
Samson stopped pacing. The weight of her words sank into the silence between them. He turned to her slowly, watching her, studying the woman she had become. There was something haunted in her eyes, something he hadn't seen in the Candy he once knew.
But before he could ask more, she stepped forward.
"Forget that," she murmured. "Aren't you going to give me anything?"
The air shifted as she closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around him. Her head rested on his chest, and her voice, though muffled, trembled. "I've missed you so much."
Sam placed his hand gently on her back. The circular motion of his palm was slow, grounding. "I missed you, too," he whispered. And for a moment, time stopped. almost shocked at him self for opening up.
They didn't notice the click of the office door, nor the quiet intake of breath.
But someone was watching.
Rita.
She stood frozen in the doorway, her expression contorting with shock, then disbelief, then boiling rage.
"Samson!" she snapped.
Both Candy and Sam turned sharply.
Sam's brows furrowed at the sight of her. His face darkened.
In a flurry of motion, Rita stormed over, grabbed Candy by the arm, and yanked her away. She positioned herself between the two siblings like a barrier, her back to Candy.
"Are you cheating on me? With her? This worthless slut?"
The word slammed into the room like a slap.
Candy's patience snapped.
She stepped forward, spinning Rita around with force. "Excuse me? Who do you think you're calling a slut?"
Rita's eyes flared—red with rage, green with envy. She scanned Candy like she was filth, and something deeper twisted in her expression.
"Why are you here? Third wheeling? Trying to ruin my relationship? Get out."
Candy sighed. She didn't want drama. Not now.
She reached for her phone on the desk, but before she could move, she was stopped.
Samson's body pressed into her back, pinning her gently against the desk.
"If you move an inch, you won't like what I'll do," he said lowly, his voice rasping like gravel, dangerously soft. His breath tickled her ear. She swallowed hard, nodding.
His presence was overwhelming.
He turned to Rita.
"Sit," he commanded Candy. She obeyed, quietly taking the visitor chair.
Then he faced Rita. Cold. Controlled.
"You may leave, Rita. I don't need anything from you."
Candy blinked. Rita? As in... Rita from high school?
Rita recoiled as though slapped. "What? You're asking me to leave? For her? Are you fucking insane?"
Sam didn't flinch. "Take the dignity you have left and leave. I have work to do."
He walked to his desk and pressed a button.
"Come to my office now," he said flatly into the intercom.
Rita stared at him, shaking with fury.
"I won't forget this."
And she didn't walk away. She snatched the coffee off the table—the very one Candy had brought—and threw it on her.
The scalding liquid soaked Candy's top. She gasped in pain.
Rita spun on her heels and stormed out.
Sam was at her side in seconds.
"Are you okay?" he asked, already opening the cabinet under the sink.
Candy hissed, lifting the hem of her top slightly. "It stings. But I'll live."
He pulled out a first-aid kit and a towel. "Take it off," he said, rolling up his sleeves.
She blinked. "What?"
"Your top. I need to clean the burn."
The hesitation only lasted a moment. She remembered all the times he'd treated her cuts and bruises before. It had never mattered.
So she nodded.
She peeled off the top with effort, wincing.
What she didn't notice was how Sam's eyes darkened. His jaw clenched.
The sight of her black bra, the soft curve of her chest—the closeness.
He cursed silently, forcing his eyes away. Control yourself.
She climbed onto the counter as he instructed. He cleaned her skin gently, deliberately avoiding her gaze.
Neither spoke.
The air between them thickened.
When he finished applying the burn cream, he stepped away quickly.
A knock came from the outer office.
"I'll be back," he said hoarsely, leaving.
Moments later, he returned with a bag.
"Clothes. Change," he muttered, placing it on the counter and walking out again.
She changed, pulling on the black denim shorts and oversized T-shirt. It fit perfectly. Almost too perfectly.
When she emerged, he was once again by the window, back turned.
He looked untouchable.
"I'm ready," she said softly, picking up her phone.
He grabbed his car keys, not looking at her. "Let's go."
She followed him, trying to keep pace.
"Where?" she asked.
No answer.
Not even a glance.
And something in her gut twisted.
Something wasn't right.