The soft buzz of Lena's alarm clock barely registered in Walker's mind. He was already awake, dressed, and staring at himself in the mirror. The tailored charcoal-gray suit he'd pulled from his garment bag felt foreign now—like armor he hadn't worn in weeks. His jaw was clean-shaven, hair neatly combed, and for the first time since returning to Millfield, he looked like Walker Harper, CEO of Harper Holdings—not the man who'd kissed Lena Hart in her kitchen at dawn.
She was still sleeping when he left the house. He paused at her bedroom door for a moment, watching the soft rise and fall of her breath. He didn't want to leave this—her—but life was moving again. His father had finally stepped back, the board was restless, and the city was calling.
The drive into the nearby regional office of Harper Holdings felt surreal. Past the town line, the quaint buildings gave way to glass towers and fast coffee. When he stepped through the revolving doors, a hush fell over the lobby. Employees nodded respectfully, eyes wide. It had been over a month since he last stood on this floor.
"Mr. Harper," his assistant, Dana, greeted, already matching his stride. "You have a full morning—financial review at nine, digital strategy briefing at ten-thirty, lunch with the COO, and a call with Tokyo at three."
Walker nodded, walking into his office. The walls were all polished oak and cold steel. The view of the skyline was perfect. But the air felt sterile compared to the warm cinnamon-sugar smell of Lena's kitchen.
He sat behind his desk and exhaled. This was where he belonged—or so he'd always thought. The polished version of his life, the legacy his father demanded he protect. But today, it all felt more like a performance.
"Schedule the digital briefing," he said. "But cancel the Tokyo call. I'll handle that tomorrow."
Dana hesitated but nodded. "Understood."
By mid-morning, he was in the conference room, discussing quarterly reports. Clara Jennings—his VP—watched him closely, her tone clipped and professional. Walker caught her glance more than once. She sensed something was different, and she wasn't wrong.
During a short break, Clara approached. "You look… settled."
Walker gave her a glance. "Settled?"
"You've always been driven. Focused. But now?" She studied him. "You're distracted. Is Millfield softening you?"
He didn't answer.
Clara smirked. "Just don't lose your edge, Harper. This world eats soft hearts."
As she walked away, Walker turned to the window. Maybe he was softer. Maybe Millfield, Lena, the nights in her kitchen and the way she looked at him like he was worth more than a bottom line—maybe it was changing him.
And maybe he didn't mind.
Later that evening, he returned to Lena's, tired but clearer. She was in the backyard, hands in the soil, planting new herbs near the fence line. When she saw him, she stood, brushing dirt from her jeans.
"Back to the big leagues?" she asked, smiling.
Walker stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Something like that."
She leaned into him, smelling of rosemary and fresh earth.
"Did you miss me?" he asked quietly.
Lena didn't hesitate. "More than I wanted to."
He kissed her gently. The city might demand his mind, but Lena held his heart—and right now, he was learning how to live with both.