Chapter 18 - THE NEW FOUNDATION
Spring melted smoothly into a brilliant, golden summer. Vance PR was no longer just a struggling boutique firm operating out of a rented co-working space; we had officially purchased a two-story brick building downtown, complete with polished hardwood floors, exposed brick walls, and large arched windows overlooking the bustling harbor.
My team had expanded to twelve brilliant, dedicated professionals who shared my vision of ethical, impactful public relations. We represented local artists, sustainable tech startups, and non-profit community foundations—companies that actually made the world a better place rather than corporate conglomerates hiding behind PR spin.
Life at home was a symphony of domestic joy and hard-earned peace.
Maya was walking now—correction, she was running everywhere at top speed, laughing hysterically while our golden retriever mix, Buster, lumbered good-naturedly behind her through the backyard grass.
Roman and I had finally set a date for our wedding. It wasn't going to be a grand, stuffy affair funded by corporate wealth or dictated by high-society expectations. We planned a small, intimate ceremony right here in the backyard garden, surrounded by the people who had stood by us when we had nothing left.
One afternoon, as I was packing up my laptop at the office to head home early for Maya’s first swimming lesson, my executive assistant, Chloe, knocked gently on my open office door.
"Nora, you've got a visitor in the lobby," Chloe said, holding a tablet against her chest, her brow furrowed in mild confusion. "She insists on seeing you personally. She says she’s an old acquaintance."
I paused, my fingers hovering over the zipper of my leather briefcase. "Did she give a name?"
"Helena Rossi," Chloe replied.
My entire body went rigid. The name hung in the air like a foul odor. I thought we had reached the end of that chapter, that the Rossi women had finally retreated into the irrelevance they so richly deserved.
"Send her in," I said after a brief moment, my voice hardening as I straightened my posture and walked over to stand behind my desk.
May you like
Moments later, the heavy wooden office door pushed open, and Helena stepped inside.
Gone was the pristine, designer-clad socialite who used to sneer at me across high-society galas. Helena wore a simple beige trench coat, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, her face devoid of makeup. She looked tired, defeated, and profoundly small.
