No flowers for the dead - Chapter 46: Chapter 46
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The storm didn’t end all at once.
It smoldered—an ember here, a rumor there. The kind of lingering fire that tested resolve more than rage. But Rae and Elara had already been tempered.
By loss.
By love.
By legacy.
Now, they were ready for the quiet work of rebuilding.
Not just the company.
But each other.
⸻
The office felt different. Quieter. Like a breath held too long had finally been released.
A few desks were empty now. Some partners had quietly walked away after the scandal, taking their silence like shields.
But the ones who remained?
They stayed with purpose.
With belief.
Because Rae and Elara hadn’t spun the truth. They’d stood in it. And in the corporate world, that kind of courage wasn’t just rare—it was revolutionary.
⸻
One afternoon, as sunlight slanted through the conference room windows, Rae found Elara sitting cross-legged on the table, sketching notes into a folder marked Verdant Phase Two.
“You’re working too hard,” Rae said, setting down two iced coffees.
Elara glanced up, eyes tired but bright. “You mean we’re working too hard.”
Rae smiled. “Touché.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping, watching the city below flicker in gold and concrete.
“You know,” Elara murmured, “Dad was brilliant. But he never trusted anyone enough to build with them. Not like this.”
Rae nodded slowly. “That’s why we’ll last longer than he did.”
Elara tilted her head. “Think we’re ready?”
“No,” Rae said. “But we’re doing it anyway.”
⸻
That week, Verdant launched its new initiative: The Reclaim Program — a resource hub for survivors of corporate negligence and abuse. Built in Ava Moreno’s name. Designed with her input.
Not as penance.
But as proof.
And the press, still skeptical, took notice.
Not because it was flashy.
But because it was real.
⸻
On Friday night, they celebrated quietly.
No press. No gala.
Just the two of them.
And Alina.
In the backroom of the bookstore, surrounded by shelves Elias once touched, Rae lifted a glass of wine.
“To doing it scared,” she said.
Elara laughed. “To doing it together.”
Alina smiled softly. “To doing it better.”
They clinked glasses.
And for the first time in months, Rae didn’t feel like she was chasing Elias’s ghost.
She felt like she was walking forward—with someone beside her.
Someone who carried the same ache. The same name. The same impossible love.
And in that moment, the future didn’t feel like a shadow.
It felt like a beginning.
It smoldered—an ember here, a rumor there. The kind of lingering fire that tested resolve more than rage. But Rae and Elara had already been tempered.
By loss.
By love.
By legacy.
Now, they were ready for the quiet work of rebuilding.
Not just the company.
But each other.
⸻
The office felt different. Quieter. Like a breath held too long had finally been released.
A few desks were empty now. Some partners had quietly walked away after the scandal, taking their silence like shields.
But the ones who remained?
They stayed with purpose.
With belief.
Because Rae and Elara hadn’t spun the truth. They’d stood in it. And in the corporate world, that kind of courage wasn’t just rare—it was revolutionary.
⸻
One afternoon, as sunlight slanted through the conference room windows, Rae found Elara sitting cross-legged on the table, sketching notes into a folder marked Verdant Phase Two.
“You’re working too hard,” Rae said, setting down two iced coffees.
Elara glanced up, eyes tired but bright. “You mean we’re working too hard.”
Rae smiled. “Touché.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping, watching the city below flicker in gold and concrete.
“You know,” Elara murmured, “Dad was brilliant. But he never trusted anyone enough to build with them. Not like this.”
Rae nodded slowly. “That’s why we’ll last longer than he did.”
Elara tilted her head. “Think we’re ready?”
“No,” Rae said. “But we’re doing it anyway.”
⸻
That week, Verdant launched its new initiative: The Reclaim Program — a resource hub for survivors of corporate negligence and abuse. Built in Ava Moreno’s name. Designed with her input.
Not as penance.
But as proof.
And the press, still skeptical, took notice.
Not because it was flashy.
But because it was real.
⸻
On Friday night, they celebrated quietly.
No press. No gala.
Just the two of them.
And Alina.
In the backroom of the bookstore, surrounded by shelves Elias once touched, Rae lifted a glass of wine.
“To doing it scared,” she said.
Elara laughed. “To doing it together.”
Alina smiled softly. “To doing it better.”
They clinked glasses.
And for the first time in months, Rae didn’t feel like she was chasing Elias’s ghost.
She felt like she was walking forward—with someone beside her.
Someone who carried the same ache. The same name. The same impossible love.
And in that moment, the future didn’t feel like a shadow.
It felt like a beginning.
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