CHAPTER 6 — THE SECOND CHANCE

Sophie POV

I didn't move.

The knock came a fourth time, and this time a voice followed it.

"Ms. Bennett? It's Whitfield. Open the door."

My whole body sagged with relief. I crossed the room and pulled the door open to find him standing there, breathless, like he'd run up the stairs instead of taking the elevator.

"You scared me half to death," I said.

"You didn't call," he said. "You said you'd call the moment you were inside. I've been standing outside for ten minutes trying to decide whether to break the door down."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I found the recording. I got distracted."

His eyes went to the laptop glowing behind me, the files still open on the screen.

"You need to stop," he said. "Tonight. Whatever you found — it can wait until morning. Whitmore already knows you're asking questions. You confronted him directly today, Sophie. That was reckless."

"I know," I said. "I couldn't help it. I needed to see his face."

"And now he's seen yours," Whitfield said grimly. "Get some sleep. Lock everything. I'll come by in the morning and we'll go through the files together, somewhere safer than your apartment."

I nodded, too exhausted to argue.

He left reluctantly, glancing over his shoulder twice before he reached the stairwell.

I locked the door behind him. Checked it twice. Then a third time.

I didn't sleep. I sat with the files open until the files blurred into meaningless columns of numbers, until exhaustion finally won somewhere near dawn.

Whitfield called at six the next morning, his voice tight.

"I want you to come to my office," he said. "Now. Not later. I found something in the drive overnight — I couldn't sleep either. I think I know how they're planning to move on you."

"Move on me," I repeated, my stomach dropping.

"Just come," he said. "Please."

I threw on the first clothes I found and left my apartment before I'd even had coffee, the box of letters clutched against my chest like it might protect me.

The street was quiet. Too quiet for the hour.

Everything I believed about my marriage was wrong. The man I thought bought me had spent years protecting me. The man I thought didn't love me had loved me more than anyone else ever would.

Now he's gone. And I never got the chance to tell him I finally understood.

I was halfway to my car when I heard it.

An engine. Too loud. Too close.

I turned.

Headlights, blinding, and behind them a car accelerating instead of slowing, aimed directly at the space I was standing in.

"No—" The word barely made it out of me.

There was no time to run.

Adrian—

The impact came like the end of the world.

White light. Silence. A pain so total it stopped being pain at all.

If I had one more chance, I would choose him. I would choose him every single time.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

Sunlight.

Too bright. Too warm. Filtering through curtains I didn't recognize.

My eyes fluttered open.

"Where—" My voice came out hoarse, unfamiliar.

I sat up too fast, my head spinning, and looked around at a room I hadn't slept in for over three years.

My old apartment. Before the marriage. Before the contract. Before any of it.

"This isn't real," I whispered, pressing a hand to my chest, half expecting to feel the impact of the crash still lodged there. "This can't be real."

But my heart was beating. Steady. Strong.

I scrambled out of bed and caught my reflection in the mirror — younger, my hair longer, no wedding ring, no scars.

There was a knock at the door.

I froze.

The knock came again, firm, patient — and for one horrible second I was back in my apartment last night, staring at a locked door, waiting for a stranger to speak.

I made myself cross the room and open it anyway.

The whole world stopped.

Adrian.

Alive.

Healthy.

Standing in my doorway in a tailored suit, a leather folder tucked under one arm, looking exactly as he had three years ago — before the marriage, before the divorce, before the funeral that had shattered everything I thought I knew about him.

"No," I whispered, my hand flying to my mouth. "No, this isn't — you're—"

"Miss Bennett," he said, his voice calm, controlled, utterly unaware of what I'd just lived through. "Are you ready to sign?"

I stared at him, my vision blurring instantly.

He's alive. He's actually alive. He's standing right here in front of me.

A thousand memories crashed through me at once. The funeral. The letters. The photograph in his wallet. His voice on that recording. I love you, Sophie Bennett, I always have. The car. The headlights. The darkness.

"Miss Bennett?" Adrian said again, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face at my silence. "Is something wrong?"

How could I possibly explain any of this to you? That I already buried you once. That I already died trying to save you. That somewhere out there, right now, a man named Marcus Whitmore is already planning to take you from me — and this time I know his name before he's even made his first move.

I couldn't.

Not yet.

So instead, I burst into tears.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, pressing a hand to my mouth. "I'm sorry, I just—"

Adrian stood frozen in the doorway, completely at a loss.

"Miss Bennett, if this contract makes you uncomfortable, we can discuss—"

"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "No, it's not the contract."

I looked up at him. Really looked at him — the sharp line of his jaw, the careful control in his eyes that hid everything underneath. The man who would spend the next three years loving me in silence, dying before he ever said the words out loud.

Not this time. Not again.

"You have no idea," I whispered, "how long I've been waiting to see you standing in a doorway again."

"We've never met before today, Miss Bennett," he said, brow furrowed.

Yes we have. I know things about you that you don't even know about yourself yet. I know exactly how much time we have before someone tries to take it from us.

"I know," I said instead. "I'm sorry. It's just been a very strange morning."

He studied me for a long moment, something unreadable behind his eyes.

"Are you certain you still want to proceed?" he asked. "No one would blame you for walking away."

If only you knew what walking away cost me the first time.

"I'm certain," I said, my voice steadying with a resolve that surprised even me. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

I took the folder from his hands, my fingers brushing against his — warm, real, alive.

This time I know his name. This time I know what's coming.

This time, I'm not signing divorce papers.

This time, I'm signing his second chance.

"Yes," I said, my voice clear despite the tears still streaming down my face. "I'm ready to sign."

Adrian nodded, still visibly puzzled by the woman crying and smiling at him in equal measure, still completely unaware that the contract he was about to offer me wasn't the beginning of our story at all.

It was the only chance either of us would ever get to do it right.

And somewhere out there, a man in a gray suit hadn't been born into this timeline's plans yet — but he would be. And this time, I'd be watching him before he ever knew to watch me.