Page 110 of Auctioned to the Billionaire Stalker

I ran down a small hill and came to a door around the back of the house. It was eerily quiet outside, as if nature knew bad things happened in that house. I knocked on the door.

“Daisy?”

At first, I didn’t hear anything, and I started to walk around to find another door. But then I heard a faint voice say something. I frowned and ran in the direction I’d heard it. I saw a broken window on the side of the house. It was up high, too high for me to reach.

“Daisy?” Icalled again.

“Help,” the voice croaked, coming as if from a long distance.

I ran back around to the door and started throwing myself against it with all my might. Finally, it broke, and I hurried into the dank, dark room. I looked around, but I couldn’t see much, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.

“Help,” the voice croaked, and I looked down.

That’s when I saw her. She was lying in a heap on the floor, covered in dust, grime, and blood.

“Oh my God,” I breathed as I ran towards her and picked her up. “I thought he’d taken you away from me. I thought he’d hurt you. God, Daisy. Iloveyou. I love you so much,” I whispered as she rested her head against my chest.

She hissed in pain as I cradled her in my arms. “She’s down here,” I yelled, so thankful she was alive I was getting tears in my eyes. “And she’s hurt,” I added.

In no time at all the police had broken down the other door to the basement and hurried down the stairs.

We’d found her. We’d found my Daisy.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Jack

“What made you run away from Mr. Lancaster’s house in the first place?” Sheriff Richards asked, casting a slightly suspicious look at me. I’d told him multiple times that we’d had a fight, but he just didn’t seem to buy it.

Probably because it wasn’t true.

I stood off to the side of the large hospital room. She was receiving treatment for a broken forearm, broken ribs, and a broken ankle. There were also several deep cuts on her hands, forearms, and shoulders where she’d knocked the glass out of the window and tried to crawl out. But the panes had been too small for her to fit through.

Daisy had told a harrowing story of how, even after she’d fallen once, she kept climbing back up the tower of boxes, sure that the only chance she had to survive was to somehow get out through the window. She’d fallen over and over again, hurting herself a little more each time.

It was awful to think about, and I tried not to. But I wasn’t very good at it. Especially because it was all my fault. If she hadn’t stumbled on my ‘observation’ room, she wouldn’t have ended up in that situation in the first place.

I’d insisted she have a private room at the hospital, of course, and now it was packed with her mother, her sisters, Nia, Jelly, Byron, Nadine and Reynolds, Carmen Salazar, and more. I was an afterthought; forgotten over in a corner. I was just the asshole who everyone thought fought with her and made her run out into the night and into the arms—well, van—of her psychotic stalker.

Only Daisy and I knew the truth.

Well, and Enzo Salazar. He’d done a good clean-up job. He and his crew had cleared out the cameras, the monitors, any and all evidence that I’d been watching Daisy. The sheriff had been displeased and suspicious when he’d found nothing incriminating when he’d searched my house in Estates at South, my penthouse, and Daisy’s condo.

I didn’t want to think about what kind of favor he’d ask me for one day.

“Everyone out,” the sheriff said, suddenly. “I need to ask Ms. Tiller some questions.”

I’d known this was coming. The nurse had announced this morning that the doctor had cleared Daisy for some deeper questioning by the police. They’d only been able to ask her the bare minimum up until now.

Everyone grumbled as they left. No one wanted to leave her after what she’d been through. I cast one last look over my shoulder. I knew I might never see her again. I knew she was about to tell them I was a stalker, too. And I wouldn’t try to get out of it. I wouldn’t lie, even though the evidence against me was gone. I wouldn’t do that to Daisy.

No, I would confess everything when she told them what I’d done.

I wondered how they treated video game designers in jail. Maybe they’d go easy on me if they enjoyed playingCaveSphere.

I locked eyes with her, drinking in her features before holding up a hand in farewell, and turning to leave.

“Wait,” she said in a soft voice.