chapter 4
625 Words
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Charles Robert wasn’t supposed to bleed.
That was the myth Daisy had built around him—unshakable, untouchable, above all consequences. But on Thursday morning, the myth faltered.
She was reviewing financial reports in the executive lounge when Jenna rushed in, breathless.
“He canceled everything today,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Board meeting, investor calls… even that lunch with the mayor.”
Daisy frowned. “Is he sick?”
“No idea. He locked his office. Said he wasn’t to be disturbed.”
For a man who ruled every second of his day, that was a red flag.
Daisy hesitated for a full five seconds before curiosity won. She walked down the hall, heels echoing against the marble. The receptionist gave her a warning look, but said nothing.
She knocked once. No answer.
Twice.
Still silence.
Against all better judgment, she opened the door.
The office was dim. The blinds were half-drawn. Charles sat by the window—not at his desk, not on a call. Just sitting. A bottle of whiskey open on the table beside him, glass untouched.
His jacket was off. His tie loosened. He looked less like a billionaire and more like a man cracking under something invisible.
“Get out,” he said without turning.
She didn’t.
“You’re spiraling,” Daisy said quietly. “That’s not like you.”
Still no response.
She stepped farther in. “Something happen?”
A long pause.
Then: “There’s a funeral today. I was supposed to be there.”
She blinked. “Whose?”
He stood, slow and stiff like he hadn’t moved in hours. When he turned to face her, something raw flickered in his eyes.
“My brother.”
Her heart stalled.
“I didn’t know you had—”
“You weren’t supposed to,” he cut in. “He died six years ago. I visit his grave every year. Until today.”
Daisy lowered her voice. “Why didn’t you go?”
He looked away. “Because I couldn’t. Because I woke up and felt like if I saw that stone again, I’d never recover.”
For a moment, the silence wasn’t tense. It was sacred.
She stepped closer. “What happened to him?”
Charles hesitated. Then, in a voice so quiet it felt like a confession, he said, “Car crash. I was supposed to pick him up that night. I got caught in a meeting.”
Daisy felt the weight of it hit the room like a storm cloud.
“You blame yourself,” she whispered.
He nodded once. “I always have.”
It was the first honest thing he’d said to her. No games. No walls.
Just truth.
She could’ve walked away. She probably should have.
But instead, she sat beside him.
“I lost my mom when I was seventeen,” she said, eyes focused on the skyline. “One minute she was baking bread, the next—aneurysm. No warning. No goodbye.”
Charles didn’t speak. But he listened. Really listened.
And that was somehow worse than any smirk or challenge he’d ever thrown her way.
They sat in silence for what felt like hours. Not enemies. Not strangers. Just two broken people pretending they were whole.
Finally, Charles cleared his throat. “This never leaves this room.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
He stood again, straightening his shirt, the mask sliding back into place.
“I’ll reschedule the meetings for tomorrow,” he said. “And Daisy?”
She turned.
He met her gaze. “Thank you.”
And for the first time, she didn’t know what she was more afraid of—that he was real… or that she was starting to care.
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- Writer
