chapter 10
668 Words
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Charle's
I’ve handled billion-dollar mergers with less tension than what’s crackling between us now.
Daisy’s behind the bedroom door. I can hear her moving—soft thuds of pacing, the occasional drawer sliding open, the unmistakable rustle of a suitcase being touched, then left half-unzipped. She's not running. Not yet. But she's thinking about it.
And that scares the hell out of me.
Because if she leaves now, I won’t be able to stop her—not with logic, not with force, not even with the truth.
I move through the penthouse like a stranger in my own life. Nothing feels right. The glass, the marble, the polished emptiness. It’s all sterile—designed for appearances, not for people.
Not for her.
I pour a drink I don’t want. The ice clinks like it’s mocking me.
I know what I look like to women like Daisy. Cold. Controlled. Capable of anything but affection.
But that’s the armor. It’s always been the armor.
Beneath it is a boy who learned too young that survival isn’t about being loved—it’s about not being needed. Because when people need you, they leave holes when they disappear. And I’ve had enough holes to last a lifetime.
Until Daisy.
I lean against the glass wall that overlooks the city and think about the way she flinched when I raised my voice. The way her eyes clouded when I told her I cared. Like she didn’t know what to do with that kind of tenderness. Like it hurt more than it healed.
She makes me feel… unsteady. Like I’m standing on a ledge I swore I’d never climb again.
I pull out my phone.
“Remy,” I say when the line picks up.
He sounds tired. “Yeah?”
“Tell me you have something.”
He exhales. “We do. Lana’s been messaging someone through a proxy account. Not Kamal—at least, not directly. But someone with access to her device helped push Daisy’s number to him.”
“Who?”
There’s a pause.
“Still working on it. But here’s the thing—you’re not the only one being tracked.”
My grip tightens. “What do you mean?”
“We found a surveillance attempt on one of your personal emails. Nothing major. But enough to know this isn’t just about her.”
“So, what, Kamal’s digging into me now?”
“Or someone close to him is.”
I go quiet. The implications settle like lead.
Remy hesitates. “Charles… there’s something else.”
“I’m listening.”
“There’s a record. From six years ago. A legal name change. Daisy's.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach.
“What name?”
Remy reads it off.
And I know it.
I know it.
Not from tabloids. Not from gossip.
From a case file. One I buried with every cent of influence I had because it stunk of corruption and loss.
A girl who was part of something she shouldn’t have been. A witness who vanished before the trial. Protected, hidden. Off-grid.
And now, somehow, in my penthouse.
Daisy wasn’t just running from a bad ex.
She was running from a past that’s more dangerous than she let on.
I don’t move. I just stare out the window, into the shimmering skyline that suddenly feels like a cage.
She lied to me.
Not just about Kamal. About who she is.
And yet... I can’t bring myself to hate her.
The bedroom door creaks open behind me. Her footsteps are soft. Hesitant.
“Charles?” she says.
I turn slowly. She’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, vulnerability bleeding from every line of her posture.
“I need to tell you something,” she says, voice trembling.
But I already know.
I just don’t know if I’m ready to hear it from her lips.
Because love, in my world, doesn’t come clean.
It comes with secrets.
And hers might be the kind that wreck everything.
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- Writer
