Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sandwiches are long gone when he leads me to his bedroom. I stop in the doorway.
"Whoa."
The bed dominates the space—a massive four-post dark walnut frame that looks like it belongs in a period drama.
"My grandmother's," he says, almost apologetic.
"It's beautiful."
The rest of the room contradicts the antique bed. Contemporary. Clean lines. Shades of grey and sky blue, like winter sky meeting storm clouds.
I love it.
We climb under the covers, and he turns on the TV mounted on the opposite wall. Seinfeld reruns flicker to life.
I laugh at George's ridiculous rant. So familiar. So silly.
Julian laughs too, our bodies shaking together.
"Daniel hates this show," I say without thinking.
"Yeah?"
“He says it’s stupid."
Julian glances at me. "That's because he has no sense of humor."
"True."
He pulls me closer, and I smile. I'm glad we share the same sense of humor.
I settle against him, his arm around my shoulders. This feels easy. Natural.
Like we’ve been doing it forever.
I wake to sunlight streaming through slate-blue curtains and the smell of eggs.
Julian stands at the stove in his small kitchen, spatula in hand. Two plates wait on the counter, along with two glasses of orange juice.
"Morning."
He turns, smiles. "Hey. Sleep okay?"
"Better than I have in weeks."
Truth.
We eat at his little table, knees touching underneath. He makes perfect scrambled eggs—fluffy, with just enough butter.
When it's time to leave, I don't want to.
But I kiss him goodbye at the door, promise to text.
Outside, the October air bites through his Ramones shirt. I'm still wearing his clothes, my wet things stuffed in a plastic bag.
I walk toward my car, parked on the street, key fob jangling in my pocket.
Halfway there, the feeling hits.
Eyes on my back.
I stop. Turn.
Nothing.
Empty sidewalk. Parked cars. A tabby cat sunning itself on a stoop.
I scan windows. Alleyways.
No one.
Get a grip, girl.
Paranoid. Always paranoid.
Too many true crime documentaries before bed, Jenna always says.
Still.
I walk faster, glancing over my shoulder twice before I reach my car.
Three days of texts. Silly memes. Funny reels. A video of him playing piano in his living room, fingers dancing over keys.
My chest aches watching it.
Are we moving too fast?
I don't care.
I'm walking on cloud nine.
Colleen's building looms ahead, familiar and wrong all at once. My old building. Daniel's building.
My hands shake on the steering wheel.
What if I see him?
I park, sit. Breathe.
The intercom crackles when I press the button.
"Liza? Come on in, sweetie."
I bypass the elevator. Take the stairs instead. My thighs burn by the second floor, but it's better than being trapped in an elevator if Daniel walks in.
Colleen's door swings open before I knock.
And I freeze.
Her face.
A purple-green bruise blooms across her left cheek. Her bottom lip is swollen and split at the corner.
"Oh, my God."
"I'm fine." She waves me inside. "Looks worse than it is."
"Colleen—"
"Coffee first. Then I'll tell you."
We sit at her small kitchen table, the one I used to admire when I lived downstairs. Gingerbread cookies arranged on a plate between us. She made them herself—always baking, always hosting.
"Philip's married."
I nearly drop my mug.
"What?"
"Yeah." She laughs, bitter. "Found out last week. His son found out about us, too. Came here looking for me."
My stomach twists.
"He did this?"
She nods. "Kid's nineteen. Angry. Said I was wrecking his family."
"You didn't know."
"Doesn't matter to him." She sips her coffee.
“What happened?”
“He punched me, then crumpled to the floor, crying.”
I’m shocked. “Did you call the police?”
“Nah… kid’s got enough problems. He apologized right away.”
I shake my head. “You’re too nice, Colleen.”
“Philip won't leave his wife. Says he loves us both. What a joke."
I stare at the bruise.
That could've been me. If I'd stayed with Daniel. If I'd pushed him one more time.
"I'm done with him," Colleen says. "Obviously."
"Good."
She picks at a cookie. "Claudia would've kicked his ass for me."
My heart sinks.
"Any news?"
"Nothing." Her voice cracks. “Two months, Liza. Six months, and the cops still say she ran away with that boyfriend of hers. But I know my niece. She wouldn't just disappear."
"You think something happened to her."
"I know it did." Tears well in her eyes. "But I can't afford a private investigator. I've called everyone. No one cares about a troubled fifteen-year-old with a dealer boyfriend."
I reach across the table, squeeze her hand.
"I'm so sorry."
She squeezes back.
"Me too."
I take the stairs again. Slower this time.
My chest feels heavy. Colleen's bruise. Claudia's disappearance. The weight of it all presses down.
I push open the lobby door—
And I freeze.
Daniel.
Daniel leans against the wall by the mailboxes, checking his mail. Silver fox exterior polished to perfection—charcoal slacks, crisp white button-down rolled to the elbows.
I attempt to scurry quietly, but he spots me.
He does a double-take, and his intense blue eyes settle on me, tracking me like I'm prey.
My stomach drops.
He doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just watches.
The silence stretches, elastic and terrible. I've seen this before—the calm before he erupts. The deceptive stillness of a predator deciding when to pounce.
I sprint to the door.
He chases after me.
“Daniel."
"Liza." His voice is silk over steel. "I've been waiting for you."
My hand tightens on the door handle. "I don't have anything to say to—"
"But I do,” he says, his words controlled, deliberate. Everything about Daniel is calculated. Even his kindness—especially his kindness—was always a weapon. "You've been avoiding me."
"I moved out. We're done."
"Done." He tastes the word, rolling it around like it's funny. "You think you get to decide that?"
Ice floods my veins.
This is the Daniel beneath the veneer. The one who threw a phone into an aquarium for the crime of existing too loudly. Who slapped me so hard I bled. Who hired someone to follow me because I dared to have a life outside his grip.
The greying temples, the sharp jaw, that face that could sell luxury watches—it's all camouflage. Underneath is something rotten. Something that was broken a long time ago by a mother who hurt him, a father who disappeared, and now he needs to break everyone else to feel whole.
"I need my mail forwarded," I manage. "I'll text you the address."
"Will you?” Not a question. A challenge.
He steps closer. I smell his cologne—cedarwood and bergamot, expensive and suffocating. The scent used to make me feel safe. Protected.
Now it makes my skin crawl.
His hand lifts—slowly, so slowly—and I flinch.
He notices. Smiles.
"You're afraid of me now." He sounds almost pleased. "Good. You should be."
"Daniel—"
"You think that piano player can protect you?" His eyes go flat. Dead. "You think I don't know where you're staying? Where you're fucking him?"
My heart hammers against my ribs.
"Stay away from me."
"Or what?" He leans in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "You're mine, Liza. You just don't know it yet."
His eyes lock onto mine.
"What the hell are you doing here anyway?"
My pulse spikes. "Visiting a friend."
"Get out."
"Excuse me?"
His jaw is tight. "I don't want you in this building. Ever again."
"I can go where I want, Daniel."
"Not here, you can't." He looms over me. "I own this building. I have every right to deny you entry."
My hands curl into fists. "You're being ridiculous."
"Am I?" His voice drops, cold. "You think you can just waltz in here after what you did? After you humiliated me?"
"I humiliated you?"
"You cheated on me, Liza. Made me look like a fool."
Heat floods my face. "One kiss. That's all it was."
"That's all it took. Now get out before I call the cops."
My breath catches. "You wouldn't."
"Try me."
We stare at each other. His face—handsome, cruel—feels like a stranger's now.
"Fine." I open the door.
"And Liza?"
I stop.
"If I see you here again, I'll evict Colleen. Immediately. No notice."
My stomach drops. "You can't—"
"I can. And I will."
He means it. I see it in his eyes.
"Please don't." My voice cracks. "She didn't do anything wrong."
"Then stay away."
I swallow hard. "Fine. I promise. I'll never come back."
"Good."
He turns his back on me, dismisses me like I'm nothing.
I push through the door into the cool air.
My car waits across the street. I stumble toward it, vision blurring.
What did I ever see in him?
The silver fox charm. The sophistication. The way he made me feel safe when I couldn't pay rent.
Safe.
What a joke.
I climb into my yellow Mini, slam the door.
My hands shake on the wheel.
He controlled me. Dimmed my light. Made me small.
And I let him.
I wipe my eyes and start the engine.
Never again.