<h1 ss="dib mb0 fw700 fs24 lh1.5">Chapter 5: Resolve Forged Anew</h1>


    ra sat frozen across from Julian, his offer hanging between them. Once, she would have jumped at this opportunity without hesitation. Now, doubt clouded her mind like a thick fog.


    “ra?” Julian leaned forward. “Talk to me.”


    She took a deep breath. “It’s been so long, Julian. I gave up everything for my marriage. What if I can’t get it back?”


    “The ra I knew wouldn’t ask that question.” His eyes held hers steadily. “She’d roll up her sleeves and prove everyone wrong.”


    A flicker of the old fire stirred in her chest. “That ra disappeared years ago.”


    “I don’t believe that.” Julian tapped the table between them. “The work you did on neuralwork applications was revolutionary. That brilliance doesn’t just vanish.”


    ra stared into her coffee cup. For years, she’d suppressed her ambitions to be the perfect wife and mother. A wife Damien barely noticed. A mother Cora increasingly pushed away.


    “What would I even bring to the table now?” she asked quietly.


    Julian pulled out his tablet and showed her thepany’stest projects. “We’ve expanded, but we’re struggling with the intuitive interface algorithms you were developing before you left.”


    As he exined their challenges, ra found herself instinctively analyzing the problems. Her mind raced with potential solutions, connections forming like they used to years ago.


    “You could approach it from a different angle,” she said without thinking. “If you restructured the decision trees to incorporate emotional intelligence patterns…”


    Julian grinned. “See? Still brilliant.”


    Warmth spread through her chest—not from embarrassment, but recognition. This was who she used to be. Who she could be again.


    “When would you need me to start?” The words surprised even her.


    Julian’s eyes widened. “Is that a yes?”


    She straightened her shoulders. “It’s a maybe. I need to think about logistics.”


    “Take the weekend,” Julian said quickly. “But I want you in theb on Monday. Just to look around, meet everyone. No pressure.”


    ra nodded slowly. “I can do that.”


    As they said goodbye outside the café, Julian hugged her. “It’s good to see you again, ra. The real you.”


    His words echoed in her mind as she walked across campus. The real her. Had she been living as someone else these past years?


    Her phone buzzed. A text from Eleanor Thorne: “Family dinner this Sunday. Mandatory attendance.”


    ra sighed. Eleanor’s “mandatory” family dinners were bing more frequent since ra moved out. An obvious attempt to force her and Damien together.


    Before she could respond, another message appeared—this one from Sabrina Thorne, Damien’s sister.


    “Are you at Crestwood? Leo’s friend thought he saw you.”


    ra frowned. Leo was Sabrina’s son who attended Crestwood. How typical of Sabrina to keep tabs on her.


    “Yes, visiting my alma mater,” she replied simply.


    Three dots appeared immediately. “Meet me at the alumni center. I’m here for amittee meeting.”


    It wasn’t a request. ra considered ignoring it, but decided against creating unnecessary tension. With renewed confidence from her conversation with Julian, she headed toward the alumni center.


    Sabrina stood outside, impably dressed in a tailored suit, tapping her designer heel impatiently. When she spotted ra, her eyebrows rose.


    “What are you doing here?” she asked without preamble.


    ra kept her voice even. “Hello to you too, Sabrina.”


    “Don’t you have work? Or are you still taking that ‘break’ from Thorne Industries?” Sabrina made air quotes around the word “break.”


    “I’m exploring other opportunities,” ra replied.


    Sabrina snorted. “Like what? You’ve been Damien’s secretary for years.”


    “I was head of the secretarial department,” ra corrected. “And before that, I was in artificial intelligence research.”


    “Right.” Sabrina clearly didn’t believe her. “Well, since you’re here, you can do me a favor. Leo’s beenining about cafeteria food. Could you make him those dumplings he likes? I’ll have him stop by the house tomorrow.”


    The old ra would have agreed immediately. But Julian’s words rang in her ears: “The real you.”


    “I’m afraid I can’t,” she said firmly. “I have ns tomorrow.”


    Sabrina blinked, clearly surprised by the refusal. “What ns?”


    “Personal ones.” ra shifted her purse strap. “Besides, I’ve moved out temporarily, as you know.”


    “Temporarily,” Sabrina echoed with a raised eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling it?”


    Before ra could respond, two elegantly dressed women approached Sabrina.


    “There you are!” one of them called. “We’re about to discuss the donor wall.”


    “Coming,” Sabrina replied, then gestured vaguely toward ra. “This is… a friend. ra.”


    A friend. Not sister-inw. Not even by her full name. Just “a friend.”


    The slight was calcted, designed to diminish her. Six months ago, it would have worked. Today, it merely reinforced her decision.


    “Nice meeting you,” ra said pleasantly to the women. “I need to get going. I have a business meeting to prepare for.”


    She walked away before Sabrina could respond, her stride purposeful. With each step, her resolve strengthened. She pulled out her phone and dialed Julian.


    “It’s ra,” she said when he answered. “I’ll take the job. No need to wait until Monday.”


    Julian’s whoop of joy made her smile. “That’s the best news I’ve had all year! I’ll email you the paperwork tonight.”


    As she ended the call, a weight lifted from her shoulders. For the first time in years, she was making a decision solely for herself. Not for Damien, not for the Thorne family reputation. For ra Vance.


    —


    Two weekster, Damien Thorne pulled into the driveway of his mansion, Cora chattering excitedly in the passenger seat.


    “And then Vivienne said we could go riding again next weekend!” Cora bounced in her seat. “Do you think Mom will want toe too?”


    Damien tensed slightly at the mention of ra. “Your mother isn’t much for horseback riding.”


    “She could watch,” Cora insisted. “I want to show her how good I am now.”


    He didn’t respond as they entered the house. Mr. Finch, the butler, greeted them in the foyer.


    “Wee home, sir. Miss Cora,” he said formally. “How was your trip?”


    “The best!” Cora dered. “Where’s Mom? I want to tell her everything!”


    Mr. Finch hesitated. “Mrs. Thorne isn’t here at present.”


    Damien frowned. “Where is she?”


    “Mrs. Thorne left on a business trip shortly after you departed,” Mr. Finch exined. “She called to check on Miss Cora several times.”


    “A business trip?” Damien repeated. “What business trip?”


    “I’m not privy to the details, sir,” Mr. Finch said carefully. “But she mentioned it wouldst approximately two weeks.”


    “Two weeks?” Damien raised an eyebrow. ra had never taken a business trip in their entire marriage. Her work at Thorne Industries certainly didn’t require travel.


    “When will she be back?” Cora asked, disappointment evident in her voice.


    “I believe tomorrow or the day after, Miss.” Mr. Finch turned to Damien. “Would you like me to try reaching her?”


    Damien considered this. Two weeks was an unusually long absence for ra, who typically revolved her schedule around Cora’s needs. Still, he supposed she was entitled to whatever this was—perhaps some retreat rted to the temporary separation she’d requested.


    “No need,” he said dismissively. “I’m sure she’ll be in touch when she returns.”


    “But Dad,” Cora protested. “I want to tell her about the horses now.”


    “You can tell her when she gets back,” Damien replied, already checking his phone for emails. “Go unpack your things.”


    As Cora reluctantly headed upstairs, Mr. Finch cleared his throat.


    “Sir, if I may… Mrs. Thorne seemed different before she left.”


    Damien looked up sharply. “Different how?”


    “More…” Mr. Finch seemed to search for the right word. “Determined.”


    “Determined,” Damien repeated tly.


    “Yes, sir. And she took quite a few of her personal belongings.”


    Damien processed this information silently. Their separation had been ra’s idea—a “temporary arrangement” to give them both space. He had agreed easily enough, seeing no reason to object. Their marriage had been one of convenience from the start.


    “Alright,” he said simply, turning toward his study. “Have Mrs. Powell prepare dinner for six. Vivienne will be joining us.”


    “Very good, sir,” Mr. Finch replied.


    As Damien walked away, he felt a fleeting twinge of something unusual—not quite concern, but a vague difort with the situation. ra had always been predictable, dependable. This sudden two-week absence without detailed exnation was out of character.


    He dismissed the thought almost immediately. If ra needed space, so be it. It changed nothing about his ns or priorities.


    Still, as he settled behind his desk, Damien found himself staring at her empty chair across the hall in the small office she sometimes used at home. For the briefest moment, he wondered exactly what kind of “business” had taken her away for so long.


    Then his phone rang with an important call, and the thought vanished entirely.