"Ah..." Daisy stepped aside, reflexively giving Theo space to enter his office.
Theo with his expression cold and flat, asked again, "What are you doing here?"
"Hmm..." She froze for a few seconds before quickly rummaging through her bag and pulling out his phone. "Your phone. You left it at the hotel, so I came to return it."
His eyes narrowed sharply. "Throw it."
Then, walking past her, he added, "I’m busy. Get out."
Daisy’s lips parted, but no sound escaped. She blinked, once, then again, steadying herself as if trying to keep something inside from breaking.
She turned and stepped out, but her body stalled at the doorway. Slowly, she turned back.
"Can you spare me... like five minutes? I need to talk to you."
Theo continued walking toward his desk. He picked up a pen as if she hadn’t spoken.
"I don’t have time to spare for you."
"I’m sorry... about the other day," Daisy said softly, ignoring the weight of his words pressing against her chest.
That look on his face was sharp and cutting—met her again.
She swallowed. "About... the things I said. I was rude. I shouldn’t have—"
Theo let out a quiet scoff, his voice flat.
"Rude? No. You just stated the truth. There’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone who knows me thinks the same thing you do... so save your apology."
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. That calm indifference hurt more than anger ever could.
"About our contract—"
"There is no contract to begin with," he cut in again, his tone dry. "But if you’re really that desperate for the extra million I dangled the other day, I’ll wire it to you once I’m done with my meetings. Sounds good?"
He raised a brow, smirking faintly, like he was doing her a favour. Like she was just another transaction.
The words hit harder than he probably intended or maybe he meant every bit of it.
The casual cruelty, the insinuation... it ached somewhere deep in Daisy’s chest.
Her lips pressed into a tight line. She nodded, barely.
"Hmm..." It was soft and shaky, a pitiful sound that slipped from her lips before she could catch it.
"Then..." she muttered, stepping forward, slowly closing the distance between them. She reached into her bag and pulled something out, "Your card."
She held it out with both hands, her fingers slightly trembling. Her smile was weak, crooked at the corners, painfully forced. "About the things I bought with it... I might need some time to return the amount," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She wasn’t just handing him a card. She was handing him what little dignity she had left.
"No need," Theo said flatly, the coldness in his expression unwavering. "Let’s just pretend it was a donation... to someone in need."
Daisy didn’t argue although it hurts.
Instead, she gently took his hand and placed the card in his palm.
A soft, almost imperceptible touch. Like she didn’t trust herself to linger. Then she turned without a word and walked toward the door.
She had barely reached it when Theo stopped her.
"Wait." The word came low and sudden, like he hadn’t planned to say it.
Her body stopped instantly, but she didn’t turn.
She just stood there, frozen, her hands hanging at her sides, fingers clenched tight.
"Hmm?" It was a soft hum, barely a sound but it carried everything, confusion, hesitation, and a fragile thread of hope.
Theo’s voice followed.
"About our marriage..."
"I’m packed this week. Let’s cancel it next week."
The words hit like a crack of thunder in a silent room.
Daisy blinked a few times, trying to hold back the tears threatening to betray her.
And for some reason, she couldn’t breathe.
She didn’t know why it hurt so much but it did.
"Okay... Mr. Kingsley." The words barely left her lips, soft and strained before she rushed out of the room.
Theo stood there, motionless.
The room felt strangely still. The door was still open, just like she had left it and the silence she left hanging in the air was suffocating.
He didn’t move. Just stared at the space she had stood in seconds ago.
Then his gaze dropped to his hand, the one holding the card she’d returned so carefully. It felt foreign now, like a stranger’s belongings. It shouldn’t matter. It was just a card. And yet, it pressed down on him, heavier than anything he’d ever held.
"Damn it!" he shouted, voice hoarse, raw with something deeper than anger.
He flung the pen in his other hand with everything he had. It flew across the room like a bullet, striking the delicate vase on the edge of the side table.
The crack of shattering glass echoed loud and final. Water spilled, flowers tumbled, shards rained down the floor.
His other hand clenched, fingers tightening around the card until the plastic bent with a brittle snap, a hairline crack splitting across its surface.
He had been lying, lying the whole time.
In the middle of the meeting earlier, a notification had appeared on his phone: someone was standing in front of his office. Marla? No, she wouldn’t have buzzed unless he was already inside. So he checked, half expecting a family, maybe a staff and instead he saw the woman he had been hoping, aching, to see for the past two damn weeks.
His heart had stopped. For a second, nothing else in the world existed except that frozen image on the screen, her standing there, talking to Marla.
He had rushed out of the meeting with the flimsiest excuse, claiming he needed to retrieve a pen—a useless lie, because the pen he had in the meeting room worked just fine, no different from the one he pretended to fetch.
But somehow, in the end, all he managed to do was hurt her. And the worst part was, he knew it. Even as the words left his mouth, he knew exactly what they would do to her. But he said them anyway.
"Sir..." Marla stood frozen, a bottle of water in hand, eyes scanning the disarray. Her voice came out small, uncertain. "What is happening?"