The resort starts the countdown. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven.
I look at Samantha and realize this is the moment everything changes. Not because of the new year or some arbitrary calendar milestone, but because we’re choosing this. Choosing her. Choosing to build something that doesn’t look like anyone else’s definition of family.
Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen.
“This is it,” Dad says quietly. “Our beginning.”
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Samantha’s hand finds mine. “Not our ending?”
“Never our ending,” I tell her.
Three. Two. One.
Fireworks explode across the valley, gold and silver and red lighting up the night sky while the resort guests cheer in the distance.
Dad turns Samantha toward him first and kisses her. Quick but firm, a promise in that brief contact. Then Kai, who makes her laugh against his mouth, before pulling back with a grin. Then she turns to me.
I cup her face in both hands and kiss her slowly. Thoroughly. Taking my time because we have all the time in the world now.
When I pull back, she’s smiling. “Happy New Year, Donovan.”
“Happy New Year, Samantha.”
We stay on the balcony until the fireworks end, and the cold becomes unbearable. Inside, Kai immediately claims the couch and pulls Samantha down beside him. She laughs and settles against him while Dad pours more champagne.
I sit in the chair across from them and watch the firelight play across their faces. This strange family we’ve built. This woman, who came here to destroy us, ended up saving us instead.
“I’ve been thinking,” Samantha says after a while. “About my mother’s company.”
“Yeah?” Kai’s running his fingers through her hair absently.
“I want to rebuild it. Not the same way it was, but something that honors what she started. Something real.”
“Then we’ll help you do that,” Dad says from his chair.
“I was actually thinking about the market positioning,” she continues, and I see the spark in her eyes that means she’s about to go deep into strategy. “The original brand focused on affordable professional wear for women, but the market’s shifted. Now there’s a gap between fast fashion and luxury. A middle tier that’s sustainable and ethically made but still accessible.”
I lean forward, interested. “You’d need strong supply chain management. Transparent sourcing. That’s difficult to scale.”
“Not if you partner with existing manufacturers who already have ethical practices in place.” She sits up straighter, fully engaged now. “There’s a factory in North Carolina that specializes in domestic production. Fair wages, sustainable materials, small batch runs that allow for quality control.”
“What about distribution?” I ask. “Direct to consumer or retail partnerships?”
“Both. Start with DTC to build brand loyalty and gather data on customer preferences, then expand into select retail partnerships once the brand has proven demand.”
“You’d need significant capital for that kind of launch,” I point out. “The company assets you inherited won’t cover a full-scale relaunch.”
“I know. But if I start small, prove the concept works, then I could?—”
“Can you two shut up about business for one night?” Kai interrupts. “It’s New Year’s Eve. We’re supposed to be celebrating, not talking about supply chain management.”
“Supply chain management is fascinating,” Samantha argues.
“It’s really not.”
“Says the man who organizes his entire life around avoiding responsibility,” I say.
