His Ruthless Obsession

Chapter 8

DAISY’S POV

“Lucky,” I sat up straighter in the taxi.

“Yes, lucky. Do you know how many women would willingly fight each other just to be in the same space with Darrell Blackwood?

“You're unbelievable,” I said and rolled my eyes.

“I'm serious,” Sophia exclaimed. “Women out there would happily sell their kidneys for a chance to date that man.”

“Oh please, Sophia, don't be dramatic.”

“Me? You’re the one who accidentally slept with a billionaire CEO and got hired by him the next morning.”

I groaned and rubbed my forehead, “Please stop saying it like that.”

“How should I say it?” Sophia said sweetly. Congratulations on your promotion.

Now I was getting crazily annoyed. Sophia always takes every serious situation lightly, just like Emily. Now, I already have two annoying witches who enjoy seeing me suffering.

“You're a witch, Sophia. I hate you.” I blurted out.

Sophia laughed so hard, “No, you don't, drama queen. You love me, and I love you too.”

Unfortunately, she was right. Sophia had been my best friend since we were thirteen years of age. She knew every embarrassing thing about me, every terrible decision I'd ever made, and somehow, she never let me forget any of them.

“Tell me something,” she said suddenly.

“What again?”

“Is he as handsome in real life as he is in pictures?”

I blinked, pictures?

“What pictures?” I asked her.

She screamed. “Oh my God, Daisy, you really have been living under a rock. Darrell Blackwood is everywhere, in business magazines, interviews, social media, everywhere.”

I frowned and rolled my eyes, “I don't read billionaire magazines.”

“It's clear already.”

The taxi slowed at a traffic light. Outside, people hurried across the road while vendors moved between vehicles. Meanwhile, my best friend was acting like I had won a lottery.

“Trust me,” she continued. “Half the female population would trade places with you.”

“Maybe they can have my place then.”

She laughed, “You won't say that again when you start seeing his face every day." Actually, that was exactly the problem. I would be seeing his face almost every day of my life now. And it is annoyingly unfair, how attractive this man was. I immediately pushed that thought away. I won't compliment that demon, not even in my head.

“Anyway, I need updates from time to time,” Sophia said, sounding suspiciously pleased with herself.

“There won’t be any update, big mouth.”

“There must be.”

I sighed. This woman was impossible.

A few minutes later, the taxi pulled up outside my apartment building. “I just got home.”

Sophia clicked her tongue, “Fine, go and rest, but call me tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“So I can continue laughing at your life, and I will…..”

I ended the call before she could say anything else. I stepped out of the taxi, and the cool evening breeze brushed against my skin. Finally, I'm home.

The apartment wasn’t really impressive. The paint was already fading in several places, and the stairway light only worked when they felt like it.

But it was home, the place where I found comfort. After spending an entire day inside Blackwood Corp, home suddenly felt like paradise.

I climbed the stairs and opened the front door. The smell of stew greeted me before I even reached the living room. My stomach growled, and that made me remember I hadn't eaten properly the whole day.

“Mom?”

She screamed from inside the kitchen, “In the kitchen!”

I kicked off my shoes and walked inside. Mom walked in moments later, drying her hands with a kitchen towel. The second she saw me, her expression softened. “You look exhausted.”

I dropped onto the couch casually, “That's because I'm exhausted. By the way, where's Leo?”

“He's sleeping as usual,” Mom replied.

“That lazy punk head,”

Mom laughed quietly and sat beside me. “Was your first day that bad?”

“Worse, Mom,” I closed my eyes. For a moment, neither of us spoke, and then I felt her hand gently touch my hair. That simple gesture made my whole body calm. No matter how old I get, Mom still treats me like her little girl.

“You will be okay,” she said softly.

I opened my eyes, “How do you know?

“Because you're stubborn.” I smiled because that was actually true.

“So tell me, what went wrong?”

“Nothing much, let's just say my boss enjoys making people suffer.”

Mom placed a plate of food in front of me. “Eat first.”

I didn't need to be told twice. I picked up my fork and started eating.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence.

Mom sat across from me, giving me a suspicious look. Instantly, I know she has something to say.

“What?” I asked her.

“You look happier today.”

I blinked, “Mom, I literally spent my whole day suffering. How does that make me happier?”

She rested her chin on her hand, “ Because you're smiling, you've smiled more today than you have in weeks.”

The words hit harder than I expected because she wasn't entirely wrong. The breakup had destroyed me. For months, I had barely been myself. Everything had felt empty, but today…today was frustrating, exhausting, and completely ridiculous. Yet somehow, I felt alive again. I hated that realization, especially because Darrell Blackwood was partially responsible for it.

My phone suddenly buzzed on the table, and both of us looked down at it. It's a new message, I picked it up casually to check the message. The moment I read the message, every trace of excitement vanished from my face.

Mom noticed immediately. “What happened?”

I stared at the phone screen and slowly handed the phone to her. She read the message, and then her face softened, “Oh.”

The message was from Aunt Clara, my favourite relative. The woman who has been there for us when my father abandoned us for another woman. She had helped my mother when nobody else did.

My 55th birthday celebration.

Saturday 6pm.

Family and close friends invited.

I groaned. Mom already knew why, “Aunt Clara would love to see you, so you should go.”

I dropped my head onto the table, Aunt Clara wasn't the problem. The problem is everyone else.

My father would be there along with his wife and his so-called precious daughter. The same daughter who sees me as a competition.

“Daisy,”

I looked up. Mom's voice was gentle, “he's still your father.”

There we go again, the sentence she always says every single time. “He stopped being my father years ago.” I half yelled.

I immediately regretted the sharpness in my voice because my mother was already looking sad, and I hate seeing that look on her face.

“He made mistakes,” Mom said, staring down at her hand.

I laughed bitterly, “Mistake? He abandoned us and left you struggling to pay bills while he played happy family with someone else, and you called that a mistake.” The words came out before I could stop them.

A heavy silence settled between us.

“I'll go.”

Mom looked up. “Really?”

“Yes, it's Aunt Clara, anything for her.”

Because no matter how much I wanted to avoid the drama, there was no way I was missing Aunt Clara's birthday.

But what could go wrong at the party?

My father would be there, and my stepmother and stepsister would definitely be there. It sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.

And knowing my luck….I would probably be standing at the centre of it.