18. Im going to have to expose you.
The ringing cut through the room like a blade.
I stirred with a small groan, my forehead pressing deeper into something warm and solid before my brain caught up.
My phone.
Reality snapped into place all at once.
Hospital. Couch. Daxton.
I inhaled sharply and lifted my head, blinking against the dim light. My phone vibrated on the small table in front of us, the screen glowing 2:03 a.m.
"Oh damn." I whispered.
Daxton shifted beneath me, the movement slow and groggy. His arm tightened instinctively around my back for half a second before he realized what was happening.
"Mm?" he murmured, voice thick with sleep. "You okay?"
I grabbed my phone, already sitting up. "I—yeah. I'm sorry."
I answered quickly. "Yes?"
"Dr. Ayra, bed 7 is in active labour. We need you here. CTG doesn't look good."
The words snapped away every bit of sleep and exhaustion from my body.
"I'm on my way." I said immediately.
Daxton was fully awake now, watching me with focused eyes as I shoved my feet back into my shoes and reached for my coat.
"I need to manage a delivery. It's urgent." I told him as I slipped into my coat.
He nodded. "Do you need me to wait for you?"
I shook my head instantly. "No, you go. I have to make rounds afterwards too."
He stood up, smoothing his shirt. "Okay. I'll go home, but I'll be back for you when your shift ends."
My mouth gaped open. "Daxton—"
My breath hitched as he stepped closer, caressing my cheek with his thumb. "No arguments. Now go. Your patient needs you."
I swallowed, nodding, before rushing out the door.
There was a lot I wanted to say to him. A proper goodbye at least. But my patient needed me, and duty had to come first.
———
I stepped out of the hospital doors just after eight, my body humming with exhaustion and adrenaline, my brain still half in the delivery room. My hair was a mess, my scrubs wrinkled, eyes burning in that way that only came after being awake far too long.
And then I saw him.
Daxton leaned against his car across the street, dark sunglasses on, sleeves rolled up, coffee cup in one hand. He straightened the moment his eyes found me.
Warmth settled deep in my chest.
He crossed the street in long strides, stopping just in front of me. "There you are."
I smiled weakly. "You're really here."
He tilted his head, lips curving. "I said I would be."
"You didn't have to." I murmured, though my body clearly disagreed as I stepped closer without thinking.
He reached out, fingers brushing my arm, his touch light and careful. "You look... exhausted."
I laughed softly. "I feel like I've lived three lifetimes since 2 a.m."
"And yet," he said, voice dropping just slightly, "you're glowing."
I scoffed. "That's sweat and hospital-grade lighting deprivation."
He smiled anyway, like he didn't believe me for a second. "Here." He extended the coffee cup towards me.
My heart melted instantly. "Thank you. You're amazing."
"I told you to drop the formalities with me," he said sternly. "Now come. Let's get you home."
I smiled, following him to the passenger seat of his car.
The drive was quiet in the best way. No pressure to talk. Just the hum of the road and the comforting presence beside me. I stared out the window, eyelids heavy, my head tipping slightly toward him at stops.
When we pulled up outside my place, he parked and got out immediately, rounding the car to open my door like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Wait." He said as I stepped out, reaching into the backseat.
He handed me a small paper bag. Warm. Smelled incredible.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Breakfast." He replied easily.
I laughed incredulously. "You're unbelievable. I'm going to have to expose you."
He arched a brow, amused. "Expose me?"
"Yes," I grinned. "For being exactly opposite of what media portrays you to be. A cute softie, an angel descended from heaven."
He scoffed, though a smile played at his lips. "Cute softie, huh?"
I smiled as he walked me to my front door. "Aren't you?"
"If you insist." He humoured me.
I dug out my keys from my purse and proceeded to unlock the door, when I saw him bend to pick something from the ground.
It was a white envelope. He handed it to me.
No stamp. No return address. Just my name written neatly across the front.
"That's odd." I mumbled.
His eyebrows knitted together as he stared at the envelope in my hands, something unreadable in his expression, until his phone rang.
He dug it out of his pocket, sighing. "I have to go."
I nodded. "Have a good day, Daxton."
"You too, Ayra. Eat and get some rest, okay?" He advised sternly.
I smiled, nodding. "Yes, sir."
His face broke into a smile before he retreated towards his car.
I waved at him as he slipped into the driver's seat, my heart fluttering as he waved back, before I slipped inside my apartment.
Inside, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the couch, eating the food slowly, gratefully. It tasted like comfort. Like being taken care of.
Only after I'd finished did I remember the envelope.
I picked it up, turning it over in my hands.
My stomach tightened as I opened it.
Inside was a photograph. Old. Slightly faded.
Two children stood side by side—a girl and a boy, faces deliberately blurred out, a playground in the background. The girl's dress looked oddly familiar, yet I couldn't tell where I had seen it.
My breath caught, unease crawling up my spine.
I flipped it over.
Written in dark ink, neat and deliberate, were four words.
It's not over yet.
A chill settled deep in my chest.
I didn't know who had sent it. I didn't know why.
All I knew was the undeniable feeling of something terrible waiting to happen.
———
It was the next day already. Yet, the envelope would not leave my mind.
Even as I brushed my teeth. Even as I changed out of my pajamas. Even as I tried to nap away the leftover exhaustion from the night before. The image of those blurred faces lingered, the words on the back replaying like a whisper I couldn't quite shake.
It's not over yet.
Who could it be from? What motive could they have? Was it a harmless prank? Or a sinister warning?
The doorbell rang.
I startled so badly I nearly dropped my phone.
My heart thudded as I crossed the apartment, peering through the peephole first. No one was there.
I opened the door slowly. That's when I saw them.
A bouquet of lilies rested neatly on the ground by my door. White petals, fresh and perfect, the stems wrapped in soft cream paper and tied with a pale ribbon.
I crouched, picking them up carefully, inhaling their light, clean scent. Lilies. Elegant. Thoughtful.
A smile tugged at my lips almost despite myself.
"Daxton." I murmured softly.
Of course it was him.
It was exactly the kind of thing he would do—grand but understated. Romantic without being loud. I glanced around the hallway once more, half-expecting him to appear, leaning casually against the wall with that slow smile of his. But there was no one.
I looked down at the bouquet again, searching for a card tucked between the stems.
Nothing.
That made me overthink a little bit.
He had always sent me a card before.
Maybe he was busy. Maybe he planned to explain later. I shook my head, scolding myself for overthinking, and carried the lilies inside.
I set them in a vase by the window, adjusting the stems until they sat just right. Sunlight filtered through the glass, catching on the white petals and making them glow softly.
Still, that same unease from earlier crept back in, subtle but persistent.
I stepped away, phone already in my hand.
Thank you for the flowers, I typed. They're beautiful.
I hesitated, then added: You forgot the mandatory handwritten card.
The message delivered instantly.
I waited.
For reasons I couldn't explain, the apartment suddenly felt too quiet.
When I returned to my office from a meeting, my mind was still partly in the meeting room, replaying the discussion. Quarterly projections. An acquisition proposal. New project ideas and estimates.
I shut the door behind me, exhaling slowly as the familiar calm of my office settled around me—floor-to-ceiling windows, muted lighting, the faint scent of polished wood.
A knock sounded at the door before my assistant walked in.
She was standing there holding something that didn't belong in a corporate office.
A bouquet of white lilies.
My eyebrows furrowed. "What's that?"
"Someone dropped these at the front desk for you." She replied.
"Who?"
"Anonymous."
Something in my stomach flipped. "For me?" I confirmed.
"Yes." She hesitated, then added lightly, "I assumed it was from someone... personal?"
I stared at the flowers. I couldn't stand lilies anymore. They used to be my mother's favourite.
"I don't receive anonymous gifts." I reminded her.
She nodded. "Right, sir. Should I throw them?"
I inhaled deeply. "Drop them on my desk."
She complied, putting them on my desk before leaving.
I studied the flowers as if they could move any second. No card. No florist tag.
I sighed in exasperation, reaching for my phone to check for any messages.
My chest warmed instantly as I saw a message from Ayra, that was until I read what she had said.
Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful. You forgot the mandatory, handwritten card.
My pulse sped up, gaze moving to the flowers on my desk and then back to my phone screen.
I hadn't sent her any flowers.
Could it be a coincidence that both of us had received flowers out of nowhere?
I called her immediately, my foot tapping on the ground.
She picked up on the fourth ring. "Hello?"
"Ayra?" I breathed out.
"Daxton," her tone warmed up. "Hey. Thank you for the flowers—"
"I didn't send you any flowers." I interjected instantly.
There was a short silence. "Huh?"
"They aren't from me." I clarified.
She was quiet again. "Oh."
"Where are you right now?" I demanded.
"Home." She replied softly.
Panic flooded my chest. I reached for my jacket and car keys, hurrying out of my office.
"Ayra, did the flowers come with a card? A name?" I inquired, heading for the elevator.
"No," she whispered. "I thought that was odd but—"
"Where are they now?" I demanded.
"Um, in a vase?"
My jaw tightened. "I need you to step away from them. Now."
Her voice wavered. "Daxton, you're scaring me."
"I know," I said softly. "But trust me. Go to another room. Take your phone with you. Don't hang up."
I heard movement. Footsteps, a faint clink of glass being set down.
"Okay," she said a few seconds later. "I'm in my bedroom."
"Good." I exhaled slowly, forcing calm into my voice even as my mind moved fast and sharp. "Did anyone ring your doorbell? Did you see who left them?"
"Yes. I opened the door but there was no one there."
My grip tightened around the phone.
Of course there wasn't.
"Ayra," I said, every word deliberate, "I need you to listen to me. I received a bouquet in my office today as well. No card."
Her breath hitched audibly this time.
"That's not a coincidence." She said.
"No," I agreed. "It's not. Stay where you are, okay? I'm coming to you."
"No, you're at work—"
"I'm already in my car." I cut her off calmly.
She sighed. "Okay."
"Listen, I need to talk to my security about this. You stay in your room and keep your phone in your hand, alright?" I instructed.
She exhaled a staggered breath. "Alright."
I hung up, quickly calling my right hand as I drove towards Ayra's house. He picked up immediately. "Sir?"
"Max, I need you to go to my office. There's a bouquet on my desk. I'm certain it's suspicious. Have it thoroughly checked, and also find out who sent it." I spoke.
"On it, sir." He replied.
Hanging up, I pressed the accelerator harder, eager to get to Ayra as fast as possible.
The envelope flashed in my head. The blurred picture. The sinister words.
The doorbell rang.
I jumped to my feet with a gasp, heart slamming so hard it hurt. My phone nearly slipped from my fingers.
Taking cautious steps, I went downstairs and peered through the peephole, sighing in relief when I saw Daxton standing there.
I opened the door instantly.
His eyes scanned me from head to toe in one swift, assessing sweep.
"You're okay?" He asked.
I nodded quickly.
That was enough for him. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, locking it with a decisive click that made my shoulders relax a fraction.
Only then did he look at me properly.
"You're shaking." He said quietly.
"I'm scared." I admitted.
He stepped closer, reaching out to caress the side of my face.
My heart did somersaults in my chest.
"Where are the flowers?" He inquired.
I pointed to the table in the corner.
We walked together, though his body subtly angled toward mine the entire way, like he was shielding me from something I couldn't see.
The lilies sat exactly where I'd left them, white petals glowing softly in the daylight. They looked harmless. Thoughtful. Like something out of a romance movie.
Daxton didn't see them that way at all. He stopped a few feet away, eyes sharp, posture alert.
"Don't touch them," he said gently. "Did you move them at all after you put them here?"
"No." I answered.
"Good."
He shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, methodical and calm in a way that made my pulse spike.
This wasn't the Daxton who teased me about horror movies or shared cookies in the backseat of his car.
This was the man who built an empire from nothing.
The man who survived things I didn't yet understand.
He crouched near the vase, examining the wrapping first. His fingers moved carefully, not disturbing anything unnecessarily. He checked the ribbon, the folds of the paper, the stems.
I hovered behind him, arms wrapped around myself.
"What could possibly be wrong with these flowers?" I wondered aloud.
"Something is definitely off about them," he affirmed. "Why would we get the same kind of flowers anonymously for no reason?"
He had a point. But I still couldn't quite decipher what the flowers could be hiding.
He stilled for a second, his hand coming into contact with something between the flowers.
He pulled it out, making my mouth drop open.
"Is that—"
"A camera." He confirmed grimly, standing straight.
The room seemed to tilt.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, nausea rushing up so fast I had to sit down. "No. No, no, no—"
Daxton stood immediately, crossing the space between us in two strides. He crouched in front of me, one hand braced on the arm of the couch, the other holding the device away from me like it was poison.
"Hey," he said firmly. "Look at me."
I forced my eyes to his.
"It's okay," he said gently. "It's a good thing we found out fast."
Then he dropped the tiny camera to the floor and stomped on it, breaking it into pieces.
He pulled his phone out, urgently writing a text message to someone while I tried mentally grasping what had just happened.
I looked up at him. "Why would someone do this to both of us?"
He met my gaze, thinking in silence before responding. "It appears we have a common enemy.... Or someone's not very appreciative of us hanging out."
I swallowed, running a hand through my hair.
He knelt down before me. "I've alerted my security team, but I have a feeling this needs to be taken more seriously... I have a proposition."
I looked at him curiously.
"Why don't you move in with me?"
My mouth dropped open.