“Mr. Cooper, if you’d allow me to explain—” Zayn attempts, but the angry voice steamrolls over him.
The man is yelling loud enough that I hear him clearly from across the desk. “You think you’re clever with this historic landmark nonsense? My attorney just informed me what you filed! I paid good money for that property, and I’ll develop it however I see fit!”
Zayn stands and turns partially away from me, but his voice remains steady. “The building holds significant historical value to Bellrose. We’re simply following proper preservation procedures to?—”
“Cut the lawyer talk,” Cooper interrupt him off. “I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re trying to stop my development plans. You think some small-town attorney can beat me? I have resources, Blackwell. Serious resources.”
Tension coils in my gut as I watch Zayn. His face looks calm and professional but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches like he’s grinding his teeth.
“Everyone has rights in this situation, Mr. Cooper,” Zayn says calmly. “Including the clinic and this community.”
“You’ve made a big mistake going against me.” Cooper’s voice drops lower, which somehow sounds more menacing. “I’m bringing in real legal power. Attorneys who actually know what they’re doing. Does the name Walsh sounds familiar? Your little stalling tactic won’t work.”
The call abruptly disconnects. Zayn lowers the phone, stares at it for a moment, then slowly sets it on his desk. He runs hishand through his hair, disheveling it further, then meets my eyes with genuine concern.
I try to sound casual, but bile creeps up my throat. “That didn’t sound encouraging.”
“It’s not.” Zayn sinks into his chair. “Cooper’s furious about our filing. He wants to knock down the clinic and build luxury apartments instead.” He pauses, looking uncertain in a way I haven’t seen since his return. “This just got significantly more complicated, Sophie. He’s hiring attorneys from Seattle.”
Something in his expression makes my heart stutter. “So what? He has lawyers. You’re a lawyer too.”
“Not just any attorneys.” Zayn looks directly at me, his eyes holding an honesty that makes shivers run through me. “The people I used to work with. From Callahan & Price.”
The name lands like a physical blow. Callahan & Price. The prestigious Seattle firm that offered him that position five years ago. The reason he packed his bags and left Bellrose. Left me behind.
“Your old firm,” I whisper.
He nods, maintaining eye contact. “The same place I left town for. The same place I left you for.”
And just like that, our past materializes between us. We’ve been carefully sidestepping it for weeks, but now it’s impossible to ignore. What’s cruelly ironic is that the very thing that destroyed us is now threatening to destroy the place that helped me heal.
My hands begin trembling slightly. “What do we do now?”
“I honestly don’t know,” he admits. “They know all my strategies. They’ve witnessed how I build cases.” He pauses, and his expression transforms—uncertainty shifting into something fiercer, more determined. “But they have absolutely no idea what this place means to you. To us. That’s what they’re really up against.”
Us.Two letters that hit me like a freight train. Does he mean everyone at the clinic, or something more personal? I’m not brave enough to ask right now.
Outside, the sun disappears completely, plunging his office into darkness. This morning felt so full of possibility. Now everything feels harder, more complicated. The past I tried desperately to forget just crashed back into the present without warning.
CHAPTER 14
Seattle’s Temptation
I sit in the back row, counting cracks in the wooden bench to keep my hands occupied. Seventeen so far. My blue dress feels tight across my chest, like it somehow shrunk overnight. It’s ridiculous to be this nervous. This isn’t about me but my heart still races as I watch the door, waiting for them to arrive. The high-powered Seattle attorneys. The people Zayn chose over me five years ago.
I shift on the uncomfortable bench. My right leg is going numb. The ancient radiator clicks rhythmically every few minutes, like a countdown. Sunlight streams through tall windows, creating bright rectangles on the polished floor. Just like those movies where the small-town hero battles the corporate giant. Except in those movies, the hero always wins, and real life doesn’t operate on Hollywood logic.
The double doors swing open. Three people enter, and the atmosphere immediately shifts—becomes charged. They’re all wearing expensive suits. Two men, one woman. They move as a unit, chins up, shoulders squared. They look like people who’ve never lost or, at minimum, never worried about consequences when they do.
But it’s the man leading them that makes my stomach clench. Tall with silver hair and a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I know immediately who he is without introduction. Cameron Walsh. Zayn’s former boss. The man who offered Zayn his big break—the prestigious position, the salary, the connections. Everything except me.
Zayn stands at his table. He appears composed in his charcoal suit, but I can read the tension in his shoulders. The way his hands flex at his sides. I still recognize all his nervous tells, even after five years.
“Zayn,” Cameron says, his voice carrying across the quiet courtroom. “Good to see you again.” He extends his hand, all teeth and zero warmth.
“Cameron.” Zayn’s handshake is firm, his expression neutral. “Didn’t expect Callahan & Price would send senior partnership for a small-town dispute.”
Cameron laughs like Zayn just delivered an excellent joke. “Nothing small about the capital our client’s prepared to invest here. Besides, I wanted to personally check on my best student in… Bellrose.” He pronounces our town’s name like it’s something distasteful.
