Do I care? Right now, with Marvey’s annoying face stuck in my head, I can’t bring myself to care about anything except getting out of this building.
“Daniel!”
Lottie’s heels click rapidly behind me. I don’t stop.
“Daniel, wait—”
I keep walking, punching the elevator button harder than necessary.
“I can make this all go away only if you give me the go-ahead,” She is slightly breathless, trying to keep up. “One public statement, clean break. Two paragraphs and this all goes away.”
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.
“Did you hear me? Daniel, this is the easiest fix—”
I step inside, turning to face her. “I heardyou.”
“Then—”
The doors start to close. She reaches out to stop them, but I don’t move.
“Daniel, please. Just think about it.”
***
I make it to my car on autopilot. Sit in the driver's seat. Don't start the engine.
My hands are shaking.
The board wants me out. Lottie wants me to issue a breakup statement. Everyone wants me to choose the company over Bailey, and the terrifying part is—they're not wrong.
This relationship has cost us Whitmore. Cost us Larsson. Put my position as CEO in jeopardy. Everything I've spent twenty years building is threatened because I couldn't keep my distance from one woman.
I think about my mother. How love made her vulnerable. How vulnerability got her killed.
I'm doing exactly what she did—ignoring every rational alarm because something feels right. Letting emotion override logic. Letting someone matter more than survival.
My phone buzzes.
Bailey: Can we talk tonight? I need to tell you something important.
I stare at the message. My brain immediately spirals through possibilities. She wants to talk about us. About where this is going. About the future. She's going to ask for something I can't give—promises, commitment, a relationship that doesn't destroy everything I've built.
Or worse. She's going to say she loves me.
And if she says it, I'll have to say it back. Because I do. God help me, I love her. I'm in so deep I can't see daylight anymore.
And that's the most dangerous thing of all.
I can't be my father. I can't become the kind of man who clings and controls and destroys. The only way to prevent that is to end this before it consumes us both.
My thumbs move across the screen before I can second-guess myself.
Me: My place. 8pm.
I set the phone down and grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.
I know what I have to do. It has to be brutal—clean breaks leave room for reconciliation. I need Bailey to hate me so she'll walk away and never look back.
