So I heard you, and I always deliver; here is a double update just for you. Enjoy!

Sam stormed through the halls of Fabray Management; his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

Something hadn't been sitting right with him ever since Mercedes walked out. And it wasn't just that he lost her; it was something more; it was her words that put everything in place for him. And at this point, he took Mercedes's word over Quinn's and her father's.

And now, after watching the chaos unfold, he was done ignoring the feeling in his gut.

He would have called her, but he didn't have to; he knew exactly where to find her.

Mercedes' office.

That woman has no morals or empathy; her best friend was blindsided and hurt, and she was excited about getting a bigger office.

Sure enough, when he pushed the door open without knocking, she was sitting behind Mercedes' desk as if she belonged there.

And standing behind her? Tina Cohen-Chang, rubbing her shoulders like some kind of villain's assistant.

"Ugh, I cannot believe her nerve," Tina was saying, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Mercedes was nothing compared to you, Quinn. You can do everything she did—and more."

Quinn sighed dramatically, rolling her shoulders. "I know, right? She tried her best to take Sam and my father, but we outsmarted her dumbass. Telling Sam everything he wanted to hear, whether they were the truth or not… And that little lie we told my father? Worked like a charm."

Tina giggled. "Genius. Telling him Sam was complaining about how Mercedes treated him? Inspired. I thought it would just get her in line, but I didn't think she would actually leave ."

Quinn scowled. "Yeah, well, I thought she'd stay on and just do the damn job. Now I have to deal with finding someone else. Did you know she went as far as to cancel the damn car service we use? I didn't know she got us that damn fifty percent off."

Tina nodded sympathetically. "Don't worry. We'll just find some idiot to replace her. She is replaceable; the only one that isn't is you."

That's when Sam stepped in. "What the hell is going on here?"

The room went silent as Quinn jumped up so fast that her chair rolled back. "B-baby! I mean—Sam! I was just going to have Tina look for you!"

Sam crossed his arms, his green eyes sharp as knives. "Why?"

Quinn smiled sweetly. "Well, we need you to officially sign with me now that Mercedes abandoned you."

Sam let out a sharp laugh. "She didn't abandon me. You lied to your dad. You had her demoted behind me and her back."

Quinn's smile faltered. "Well, you didn't say anything, so obviously, you didn't care."

Sam clenched his fists. "I didn't say anything because I was under the impression that I owed you and your father." His voice was cold, his anger barely contained.

Quinn swallowed. "You do, Sam. We made you. My father—"

"No," Sam cut her off, his voice sharp. "You and your father manipulated me into thinking I owed you my dream. But Mercedes was right. You never wanted my book. You wanted me."

Quinn's eyes widened. "That's not true—I…I wanted it all."

Sam held up a hand. "Okay, okay." He said, looking at her, knowing she could not read what he was feeling; instead of proving his point, he would let her bury herself. "So you liked my book? Then, tell me the truth, Quinn. What did you think of my book?"

Quinn blinked rapidly. "It's amazing. So well-written. I knew you were a star."

Sam nodded, studying her as his hands crossed over her arms. "Good. Because I was actually thinking about changing the ending. Carla shouldn't end up with Brendan. But Mercedes advised me against it."

Tina suddenly looked panicked.

Quinn, desperate to prove herself, quickly laughed. "See? That's proof Mercedes knows nothing! You absolutely should break them up! I always thought Carla deserved better."

Sam exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Thank you, Quinn, for making this very easy choice even easier."

Quinn beamed. "I aim to please."

"I quit," Sam said, staring at her.

The words hung in the air like a bomb.

Quinn's eyes widened. "What?"

Sam shrugged, his voice steady. "You didn't even read my book, Quinn. There are no characters named Carla or Brendan."

Quinn's face drained of color.

Tina made a choking noise.

Sam let out a humorless laugh. "Mercedes was right. You didn't fight for me because you believed in me. You fought for me because you saw my face and knew you could sell it, and you used me."

Quinn opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

"I was stupid to believe you and your father when you said you read my book and pushed for me to get signed. This had been my dream since I could write, I went through so much to get here, and then you…just…" Sam took a step back, shaking his head. "I'm done being manipulated. I don't owe you anything."

He turned to leave, and Quinn panicked.

Sam walked out of Mercedes' old office, his chest feeling lighter than it had in weeks.

But Quinn ran after him before he could make it far, heels clicking against the floor.

"Sam, wait!" she called, reaching for him.

Before she could touch him, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Quinn Lucille Fabray!"

Both of them froze.

Russell Fabray stood at the end of the hall, his face red with barely contained fury.

His sharp blue eyes locked on his daughter, cold and unforgiving. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Quinn swallowed hard. "Daddy, I—"

Russell took a threatening step forward, voice sharp as a blade. "Because of you, we didn't just lose Mercedes. We lost half our staff."

Quinn blinked, confusion flickering across her face before she forced a smug smile. "Okay, so? We can just replace them—"

Russell slammed his fist against the wall. "No, Quinn! We lost the half that actually meant something to this company."

Quinn's smile dropped.

Russell continued voice like thunder. "Legal. Management. Editing. Public Relations. Almost all of our bestselling authors?" He let out a bitter laugh. "They all followed Mercedes straight to Cochern & Howell."

Quinn stumbled back slightly. "That's not—"

"And from what my informant just told me," Russell continued, eyes narrowing, "The company is about to be rebranded. Shelby has given Mercedes ten percent of her stock in the company, and Carl Howell is retiring and selling his most of his stock to—"

He smirked, full of disdain.

"Mercedes Jones."

Quinn's eyes widened in horror. "No. That's—"

"That's right." Russell's voice was ice cold. "It's about to be called Cochern, Howell & Jones."

Sam let out a low whistle, grinning despite himself. Damn. Mercedes really did it, and she deserved it.

"Maybe instead of firing her, you should have promoted her." Kitty said, staring at everyone.

Russell's gaze flickered to her, full of frustration. "What?"

"Oh, you heard me, and don't worry, I wouldn't stay on this shipping sink if you paid me; I just came to get my things."

Russell waved her off and looked at Sam. "Look, they are prepping for war, so that means our only real chance to salvage this disaster is to get Sam on tour. Now."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

"Well," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "Like I told your daughter—I quit."

"Hell yeah!" Kitty said as she headed to the elevator. See you on the other side, Evans."

Russell's face turned red. "You can't quit. I own you."

Sam laughed out loud. "Yeah, see, that's where you're wrong."

Quinn and Russell stared at him, confused.

Sam took a step forward, speaking slowly, letting them feel every word.

"When Mercedes left, I had a feeling things were about to get ugly," he admitted. "So, I did something smart for the first time since I got trapped in your web. I called a lawyer friend of my dad's. Turns out, I never signed a contract with you."

Quinn gasped. "But—but my father—"

Sam nodded. "Oh, he thought he owned my rights. But see, I signed exclusively with Mercedes. And that contract says that if she leaves and I don't owe you any money, I can leave and retain the rights to my books. And since I never received my bonus from you?"

He smirked. "I'm free to walk away."

Russell's jaw clenched.

"And if you try to publish my book without me?" Sam added, tilting his head. "I can sue you."

The older man's face darkened with rage. "You little—"

Before he could finish, Quinn grabbed Sam's arm, nails digging into his sleeve.

"Sam, you don't want to do this," she begged. "I love you. We can make this happen."

Sam laughed. Not the happy kind. The bitter, exhausted kind.

"You don't love me, Quinn. You love owning me."

Her lip trembled. "That's not—"

"I lost someone I actually care about because of your lies." His voice was sharp, final. "So it seems fitting that you lose everything too."

Quinn's breath hitched.

Sam turned back to Russell, whose rage was now simmering into something worse—defeat.

"I get it," Sam said, nodding once. "She's your daughter. You're always going to take her side. But let's be real here—she just sank your entire company."

Russell's face twitched.

Quinn's eyes burned with frustration. "Sam, please—"

Sam lifted a hand. "Save it."

Then, with a final smirk, he turned away, waving over his shoulder.

"No, Sam, wait!" Quinn reached for him again, desperate. "You can't just leave! My father—he's invested so much in you! We've invested in you! You're nothing without us!"

Sam glared at her. "No, Quinn. You're nothing without me."

And with that, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Mercedes sat across from Shelby Cochern and Carl Howell, signing the last official document that solidified her as a partner in what would soon be known as Cochern, Howell & Jones.

Carl wanted to remove his name, but Mercedes made sure he knew she wouldn't replace him; she would elevate his legacy, which let Shelby and Carl realize they made the right choice.

Shelby leaned back with a knowing smile as she placed the pen down. "Mercedes, I have to say, I never actually thought you'd leave Fabray Publishing. We've had our eyes on you since you graduated."

Mercedes nodded, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. "When I commit, I commit. I stay until my loyalty and dignity get called into question."

Shelby's smile widened. "Smart woman."

Mercedes exhaled, sitting back in her chair. "I thought I was doing the right thing, staying there. But the truth? They were using me. Taking my talents and connections and giving someone else the credit."

Carl shook his head, scoffing. "Fools. A company is only as strong as the people who run it. And from what we've seen, you ran that company."

Shelby nodded in agreement. "You don't have to worry about that here, Mercedes. You're an equal partner. No one is taking credit for your work but you. You'll have full control over your projects, your staff, and the vision we're building."

Mercedes felt something settle in her chest—relief.

"Thank you," she said genuinely. "And thank you for bringing my associates on board. They're some of the best in the industry, and I promise you won't regret hiring them."

Carl chuckled. "Smartest move we could make. We were already planning a rebrand and restructuring everything. A few people left after a mishap in accounting, some retired, and honestly, the rest weren't pulling their weight. Bringing in a staff that actually works? That's a no-brainer."

Shelby nodded. "And not to mention the way you protected your clients. That's exactly the kind of leadership we need."

Mercedes felt a slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips.

"I promise you," she said, confidence radiating in her voice, "I will rise Cochern & Howell to its best potential."

Carl smiled back. "Cochern, Howell & Jones now. We've spent twenty years building this company to last, and I wouldn't be stepping down if I didn't believe you could take it further. I'm happy to leave this place in hands as capable as yours, only coming back to help when needed."

Mercedes' chest tightened with emotion. She had earned this. She took a breath and nodded. "Thank you. I won't let you down."

Shelby smiled. "We know."

Mercedes glanced down at the papers, which officially named her co-owner.

This was it. She had made it.

But she wasn't done yet.

"There's one more thing," she said, sitting up straighter. "I spoke to Holly Holliday from Holiday Creations. They're open to merging with us and becoming our sister company."

Shelby and Carl's eyes widened in surprise.

"That's... huge," Shelby said, clearly impressed. "Holiday Creations dominates the seasonal market. We've never had a solid foothold in that genre."

Carl let out a low whistle. "And now we will. Mercedes, you just keep proving you're the best damn decision we've made."

Mercedes smirked. "Well, I did promise to bring this place to its highest potential."

Shelby chuckled. "And somehow, you're already exceeding our expectations."

Carl leaned forward, extending a hand. "To the future of Cochern, Howell & Jones."

Mercedes shook his hand, her smile unwavering.

"To the future."

Sam sat on his couch, a half-empty beer bottle dangling loosely from his fingers.

Across from him, Silas and Blaine watched him carefully, waiting for him to spill everything.

And he did.

Every single thing.

How Quinn lied to him. How Russell manipulated him. How they convinced him that Mercedes never wanted his book, she never wanted to represent him.

And the worst part? He believed them.

"The way she acted when we first met…" Sam exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "She didn't seem that interested, you know? She was hard to read. And I let them play on that doubt."

Silas shook his head. "Sam. Come on. You knew Mercedes better than that."

Sam let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, I know that now."

Silas and Blaine exchanged a look.

"But it doesn't matter anymore," Sam continued, shaking his head. "I already quit. I'm going home."

Silas' entire face twisted. "Hell. No."

Sam frowned. "Si—"

"No, shut up," Silas snapped. "You're not going home. You're going to Mercedes, you're going to beg for her forgiveness, and you're going to ask her for help."

Sam looked away. "I won't."

Silas narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell not?"

Sam sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because I hurt her so badly. I won't ask her to compromise herself to help someone she clearly hates."

Silas stared at him. "She doesn't hate you; she's not a hateful person."

"I know she's not, but what I did…." Sam's throat tightened. "How horrible would it be for me to crawl back to her now? I made the wrong choice. I just… I wanted a chance to be somebody because I always felt…"

"Sam…yes, you were dyslexic, but that doesn't mean you weren't someone."

"Si, when I told my English teacher I wanted to be a writer, he laughed at me and said I should just stick to doing things that guys like me did, be a meathead or a model."

Blaine shook his head. "He was a bastard."

Sam ran his hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter, none of that does; I screwed it up so bad that when I look at myself in the mirror, I hate what I see."

Blaine leaned forward. "So change it."

Sam let out a low, exhausted breath. "I've already lost; my dream is going to stay just that, and it's my own fault. I want to apologize to her, but I won't ask her to help me when I am the one who screwed her over."

He stood, walked over to the counter, and grabbed an envelope and a bag.

Turning back to his brother, he held it out. "When you see Mercedes… can you give this to her? It tells her how sorry I am and how I wish her nothing but the best."

Silas didn't move; he just stared at Sam like he was the biggest idiot on the planet. Then he stood, walked over to him, and smacked the envelope right out of Sam's hand.

Sam blinked. "Dude—"

Silas towered over him, stretching that inch of height he had over his brother. "No. You don't get to do this with a damn letter. You owe Mercedes a real apology. To her face. You were a coward, but you stood up to Quinn and her father; now face what you did to Mercedes."

Sam hesitated.

Silas crossed his arms. "Do it right. Or don't do it at all."

Sam exhaled.

And then, he nodded.

He stood, running a hand through his messy hair, and walked out the door and right to hers next door.

He didn't change. He didn't even check himself in the mirror.

Dark wash jeans. Black tee. Hair a mess.

He didn't care because this wasn't about impressing her.

This was about making things right.

Mercedes had just finished taking her meds when a knock sounded. She looked out the peephole and stepped back, realizing it was Sam. She pulled her silk robe tighter before she opened her front door, frowning when she saw him standing there like a mess of emotions wrapped in a very hot body.

She was breathless for a moment because even though he was an asshole, even though he broke her heart, he still had a hold on her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

She arched an eyebrow. "What do you want, Sam?"

Sam straightened his spine. "I need to tell you the truth."

Mercedes folded her arms, waiting.

Sam took a deep breath. First and foremost, I am so sorry."

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't speak.

"I never meant to hurt you," he continued, voice rough, unsteady. "I never meant to cause you pain. I just… I just wanted to make my dreams come true so badly."

Mercedes' expression softened—just slightly.

"But that is no excuse for how I treated you and put you in a position to feel what I did. Dreams are not an excuse for hurting someone."

"I do understand about dreams. It's hard to walk away from them." Mercedes said sadly.

Sam nodded. "Well, I know the truth now. And you will never know how bad I feel, how wrong I am. How wrong I was. No dream is worth all of that. No dream was worth hurting you."

Mercedes looked away from Sam, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes, but that meant she missed the tears in his.

"Mercedes, I-" Sam hesitated, he wanted to tell her he quit, tell her that he believed Quinn and Russell, but then that would put more on her and he didn't want that for her. So he told her half the truth.

"I believed Quinn when she said she believed in me. I believed Russell when he offered me money that could help my family. I let them use me, and I let them turn me into someone I'm not. I won't make that mistake again."

He let out a rough chuckle, full of regret. "I made the biggest mistake of my life," he said. "And I'll probably be paying for it for the rest of it."

Mercedes held his gaze, silent.

"But I just wanted to tell you," Sam continued, voice softer now, "That you didn't deserve any of it. You handled all of that with grace and beauty. You proved why you were so much better than Quinn. You are remarkable, Mercedes Jones."

He swallowed hard, then forced a small smile. "And before I leave, I also wanted to say… congratulations."

Mercedes blinked back her tears and sniffed. "For what?"

"For soaring above the rest." Sam lifted his hand from behind his back, revealing a small bag.

Mercedes hesitated before slowly taking it.

She peeked inside… and froze.

Pulling out the glass plaque, her breath caught in her throat as she read the engraving.

"Difference Maker. Someone who can make a big difference with just a few words or actions. An enthusiastic person who is dedicated to improving the lives of others and has the power to inspire and rally others to bring about positive change."

At the bottom, engraved in beautiful silver script:

Mercedes Jones is that person.

Mercedes' lips parted slightly, her fingers tightening around the glass.

She looked up at Sam, eyes shining. "Sam…"

Sam offered her a small smile. "Now, when your clients come to your office, they'll know what I already know. That you make everything better."

Mercedes opened her mouth to speak—

But before she could, Sam turned and walked away.

No begging. No expectations. Just the truth.

Mercedes stared after him, still holding the plaque, completely and utterly speechless.

Because for the first time… Sam Evans finally meant what he said. And she knew it because she felt it.