Chapter 18 Daniel #2
"Before you say anything," I interrupt, my voice colder than I intend, "I need to tell you something."
Her smile falters. "Okay..."
I force the words out before I can stop myself. "This arrangement—us—it needs to end."
The color drains from her face.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"No. No, I—" She shakes her head like she's trying to clear it. "Daniel, wait. I came here to tell you something important. Just let me—"
"There's nothing to say." I keep my voice flat, emotionless. "This was always temporary. We both knew that."
"But—" Her voice cracks. "After London. After everything you said—"
"London was a mistake. I got too close. I let this become something it was never supposed to be."
She stares at me like I'm a stranger. Like I've become someone she doesn't recognize.
Maybe I have.
"I don't understand," she whispers. "What happened? Yesterday you were—"
"Yesterday I was pretending. Tonight I'm being honest."
The lie tastes like ash.
She watches me for a long moment, those dark eyes searching my face for cracks in the armor. I don't let her find any.
"This is about the board meeting, isn't it?" Her voice is steadier now, anger starting to creep in. "They told you to end this."
I don't answer. Let the silence speak for itself.
"So that's it? They snap their fingers and you just—" She gestures between us. "You're really going to let them decide this?"
"It's not about what they want. It's about what's best for the company."
"The company." She laughs, sharp and bitter. "Right. Because that's all that matters. The almighty company."
"Bailey—"
"Don't." She holds up a hand. "Don't stand there and tell me this is just business. Not after London. Not after you told me I was the only person who's ever seen the real you."
"That was—"
"What? A lie? Part of the performance?"
"It was a mistake."
The word hangs between us like a blade.
She flinches as if I've struck her. "I see."
"This was always temporary," I continue, pushing forward before I lose my nerve. "The arrangement served its purpose. My image is rehabilitated. You got your professional recognition. But now it's become a liability."
"A liability." She repeats the word like she's tasting poison. "That's what I am to you? A liability?"
"That's what this situation has become. The media attention. The investor pullouts. I can't—" I force myself to stay cold. "I can't let a relationship jeopardize everything I've built."
"So you're choosing the company. Over me. Over us."
"There is no us, Bailey. There never was. It was an arrangement. Nothing more."
I watch something break behind her eyes. The hope, the trust, the something that looked like love—it all shatters.
Good. Better now than later. Better when she can still recover.
"You're lying," she says quietly. "I can see it in your eyes. You're terrified, so you're pushing me away."
Damn it. She knows me too well.
"Believe what you want. But this is over."
"Fine." Her voice is cold now, matching mine. "If you want to play corporate, let's play corporate. What about my position at Williams Ventures?"
I've already thought about this. Already mapped out how to cut every tie.
"You'll be reassigned to Operations under Marcus Winters. Removed from all current projects. It's better if we establish professional boundaries."
She laughs, the sound sharp and wrong. "Operations. Under Marcus. The same Marcus who micromanages people until they quit."
I don't respond.
"You're firing me. Just say it. Stop hiding behind reassignments and corporate restructuring."
"I'm suggesting you'd be happier elsewhere."
"Happier." She shakes her head in disbelief. "You really think this is about my happiness? This is about YOU being comfortable. About erasing me from your life so you don't have to face what we had."
"Lottie will draft a severance package. Six months salary plus the full compensation for the arrangement. It should be more than enough—"
"I don't want your money."
"Be reasonable. That's a significant amount—"
"I don't want ANYTHING from you." Her voice rises. "Keep your severance. Keep your arrangement money. Keep all of it. I'd rather work a hundred minimum wage jobs than take a single dollar from you."
"You're being impractical."
"I'm being done with you."
She moves toward the door, but I'm not finished. I need to make sure she stays away.
"You earned that compensation. Don't let pride—"
"Pride is all I have left." She turns back to face me. "You took everything else. My job. My trust. Whatever future I stupidly thought we might have. So yeah, I'm keeping my pride. Because unlike you, I know the difference between having principles and just being a coward."
The words land like a physical blow.
"You're scared," she continues, her voice breaking now. "You're terrified that if you let yourself be happy, something will destroy it. So you're destroying it first. You're becoming exactly what you were afraid of becoming."
"I'm protecting you—"
"Bullshit." Tears stream down her face, but her voice is steel. "You're protecting yourself. From feeling. From risk. From having to trust someone enough to let them in."
She's right. God help me, she's right about everything.
But I can't stop now.
"Believe what you want, Bailey. This is over."
She stares at me for a long moment. Then something shifts in her expression—resignation, maybe. Or just exhaustion.
"You're right about one thing," she says quietly. "This is over. Not because you're ending it. Because I'm done fighting for someone who won't fight for himself."
She opens the door, pauses with her hand on the frame.
"I hope your control keeps you warm at night, Daniel. Because that's all you're going to have."
Then she's gone.
The door closes with a soft click that echoes through the empty penthouse.
I stand there, frozen, listening to the silence.
It's done. She'll hate me now. She'll move on. She'll be safe from the wreckage I would have caused if I'd let this continue.
I did the right thing. The smart thing. The only thing that would protect her from the inevitable destruction.
So why does it feel like I just destroyed the only good thing I've ever had?
I walk to the window, look out at the city lights blurring below. Somewhere down there, Bailey is driving home. Crying, probably. Hating me. Planning her exit from Williams Ventures and from my life.
This is what I wanted. What I needed.
My phone buzzes. Another text from Lottie about the board meeting. Another reminder of everything that's at stake.
I silence it without reading.
Because standing here in my empty penthouse, surrounded by all the control and safety I thought I needed, all I can think about is the way Bailey looked at me before she left.
Like I'd become exactly what she'd feared I would be.
And maybe I have.
I pour the scotch I've been ignoring all night. Down it in one swallow.
The burn does nothing to ease the hollow ache in my chest.
I just protected Bailey from my father's legacy by becoming it.
The irony would be funny if it didn't hurt so much.