Chapter 18 Damian
Iwas just about to leave the shop when Ference’s face went rigid, frozen in horror.
“Damian!” he shouted.
I turned and saw Daisy on the floor. I sprinted to her and dropped to my knees.
“Daisy!” I checked her pulse—shallow, but steady. “Daisy!”
Her eyelids fluttered. She opened her eyes—disoriented, pale. “What…?” she murmured, blinking. Her gaze drifted around the room, then locked on mine.
“You fainted.”
She tried to sit up. I slid an arm behind her back and eased her against the wall. Sweat stood on her forehead; her eyes were glassy.
“It just went black for a moment, but I’m fine now.”
“I saw it,” Ference said. “She didn’t fall—she sank. No hit to the head.”
I studied Daisy. Her face looked fragile, almost translucent.
“The dizziness is because I haven’t eaten or drunk enough. And I get lightheaded during my period.”
“Why didn’t you say something? Fuck, Daisy…”
“I’ll drink more from now on,” she said softly. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Ference and I exchanged a look. He stepped forward, grabbed a water bottle from the desk, uncapped it, and handed it to her. Daisy took a sip, then another. Her hands trembled. I knelt again, my gaze drilling into hers.
“You look dangerously thin. Like you haven’t eaten in days.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
Ference crouched with us. “Should we take her somewhere she can lie down?”
“To the library,” I said.
“I’m fine,” she murmured, pushing herself upright. “I can manage the stairs.”
She tried to pull away, but I didn’t release her. Her eyes met mine—not pleading, clear. Proud. Maybe too proud.
“I know what you’re thinking. And no—I’m not going to faint again,” she said before I could speak.
“All right. But Ference will take you upstairs.”
I gave him a brief look—an unspoken order. We had to talk. Urgently. He nodded and waited when I tipped my head toward the front of the shop.
“I want to know what really happened since the gala, because I don’t buy her story.”
“Me neither,” he said quietly. “Maybe we should make sure someone’s with her from now on, day and night.”
“From now on?” I repeated. “No, Ference. From now on, she stays with me.”
I went to the bar and poured a bourbon. Daisy slept in my bed. I had to take better care of her, keep her closer. I couldn’t let anything happen to her.
My thoughts ran hot and sharp. Who the hell had touched her? Had she really slept with someone else? I didn’t believe it. Revenge because of Silvia? No—the timeline didn’t fit. Daisy left hours before Silvia arrived. Those photos were taken at the end.
She would never tell me his name—she knew exactly what I’d do to him. I needed Ference. Or anyone who’d seen her that night. The hotel’s surveillance—that was the key.
I called Ference.
“Yeah, Boss?”
“Go to the hotel and pull every second of footage with Miss Elfhorn in it. If she talks to a man, walks with him—anything—you bring me the files. Hallways, elevators, every angle. I’ll call ahead.”
“Got it, Boss. I’ll call the moment I have something.”
Three hours later my phone rang.
“What do you have?”
“I’m outside your door. Let me in.”
He came in pale and tense. He pulled a USB from his pocket but didn’t let me take it.
“You shouldn’t watch this,” he said.
“Why?”
“It’s worse than you think.”
Cold washed through me.
“What’s on it?” My voice scraped. “What happened?”
“Thomas Mason probably forced her.”
I froze, staring at him as if he’d spoken another language.
“He… what?”
“All we have is the footage. But her body language says enough. One clip shows her outside room 126. He comes, shoves her inside. Thirteen minutes later she walks out—crying. Red mark on her face.”
The floor dropped. I grabbed the wall to stay upright. My heart slammed; his words kept echoing.
“Why?” I whispered. He looked down. Pain split me open—guilt, rage, a grief I could barely stand. My fists whitened.
How could I have let this happen? How did I drag her into this?
“It all traces back to me,” I said, unable to meet his eyes.
“Every choice. Every step that led her there. I put her in danger.”I ripped the USB from his hand.
“I need to see it.”The footage flickered—hallway, door, the shove.
Thirteen minutes. Daisy coming out crying, a red welt on her cheek—each frame pushed a knife into me.
Blood roared in my ears. Helplessness and fury ate through me.
I controlled everything—now I was nothing.
I should have protected her. I wasn’t there when she needed me.
Guilt chewed at my bones.My fist slammed the table.
The screen came off the wall; glass ripped the air.
No relief.“Mr. Miller— Damian calm yourself!” Ference barked.I crossed the room, opened the safe, fingers shaking as I pulled out the gun. He′s dead.
Ference called for backup. Karl and Rick flooded the doorway and formed a wall.
I loaded the weapon. They moved to block me.
“Boss, don’t do anything reckless,” Karl warned.
“You’ll end up in prison. Then no one wins,” Rick added.I leveled the barrel, voice low as a blade.
“Move.”Ference didn’t move. He stepped directly into my line of fire, calm as stone, his gaze locked on mine.
“Put it down, Damian,” he said, voice steady — the kind of steadiness that made men obey.My finger tightened on the trigger — a metallic click split the air.The sound froze the room.
Karl’s hand hovered near his sidearm; Rick didn’t dare breathe.Ference didn’t flinch.
“Put the gun down,” he repeated, quieter this time.His calm cut through the rage like cold steel.
“Damian?” Daisy’s voice sliced through the silence, small but shattering.
“What are you doing?”The world snapped back.
My hand dropped. The gun hung heavy in my grip.
I turned — her eyes widened when she saw it.For a heartbeat, I froze — between them.
Then I turned back to Ference, flipped the weapon, and pressed the handle into his hand.I faced Daisy again, closing the distance between us.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” I rasped. Heat stung my eyes.
I forced it back. Me — Damian Miller — undone because I hadn’t been strong enough to protect her.
She’d gone through hell because I wasn’t there.
What kind of man lets that happen?She looked away. “How did you find out?”
“The hotel lobby cameras.”
She nodded. I stepped to her, cupping her face.
“Why, Daisy? Why didn’t you come to me? What did he threaten you with?”
“He would’ve ruined you. Destroyed your company. Burned the shop.”
“I wouldn’t have cared.”
“Oh really.” A bitter laugh. “As if I ever meant that much to you.”
She turned. My bodyguards slipped out. I followed, my gaze drilling into her back.
“You could have trusted me. I would’ve found a way.”
She spun, eyes blazing. “Trusted you? You never let me in. I was a means to an end. And now you say ‘trust’? I’ve never been anything to you. I never will be.”
“If that’s true, then why did you do it?” I seized her shoulders. “Why, Daisy? Why the fuck would you sacrifice yourself for me? I don’t deserve it.”
“Because I fucking love you!” she screamed — raw and broken, the last flare of something that couldn’t be saved. “Because I couldn’t watch him destroy you.”
“And you destroyed yourself instead?” I stepped so close she could feel the violence coiled in me. My hands dug into her arms. “That’s not proof of love. That’s madness. A sacrifice I’ll never accept.”
She shut her eyes. A single tear slid — quiet, final. I saw the cost. I hated it. Hated her for it. Hated myself more for driving her here.
I dropped my hands as if burned, dragged a palm over my face, and made my voice ice.
“Daisy… you can’t love me. I told you from the start I’d never give you a relationship.”
Her lips trembled. “So you’re sticking with that?” she whispered. “All you want is to possess me?”
I memorized her face — the break in it. Then I nodded. Slow. Hard. Something in her cracked. Something in me with it.
I should have held her. Told her she’d changed me. That for the first time in years I didn’t know who I was because she’d turned everything upside down. But if I said it, I would lose — myself, and then her.
So I chose the silence that would hurt her most—and keep us both alive.
Marble, glass, guards—none of it mattered. I was already past the point that keeps men out of prison.
“One moment, Mr. Miller, you can’t just go in,” a secretary called, uncertain.
“Mr. Mason is busy!” another snapped, stepping in my way. I brushed past. They didn’t follow.
I flung open the oak door and stormed into Mason’s office. The bastard looked up — surprise curdling into anger.
“What the hell is this, Damian?” he sneered.
I crossed the desk and dragged him to the floor. He roared, but rage gave me the strength of ten men. My fists hammered his face again and again.
“You filthy pig! How could you?!” I roared. “I’ll kill you, you fucking bastard!”
Security swarmed. I fought through them until they finally tore me off and pinned me.
“Call the police!” Mason wheezed, staggering up. He lurched and kicked me in the ribs. Air exploded from my lungs. The guards hauled me upright. Mason spat blood at my feet.
“It was a pleasure to fuck your little slut,” he hissed. “Now I know your weakness. She’ll pay, and you won’t stop me.”
My voice was ice. “If you so much as look at her again, I’ll tear you apart.”
He grabbed my collar, blood-smeared and grinning. “I’ll do it again and again, and you’ll watch.”
My mind went white. I wrenched free and crashed into him again until the guards dragged me off a second time.
“Get him out of my sight!” he bellowed.
Bars closed. A better man would rethink. I planned.