“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 aknife 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.
