Chapter 17
Daisy stood frozen, feeling like she’d just punched a cloud – all her efforts dissipating into nothing. Something had shifted, and she could feel it in her bones. But within seconds, she pulled herself together. With dramatic flair, she slapped both her cheeks hard, the sharp sounds echoing in the empty room. Then, with trembling fingers, she recorded a video message for Quentin.
“Quentin, I’m so sorry,” she whispered into the camera, her voice breaking perfectly. “I know you love Fiona. I was just trying to help, that’s all.” She paused for effect, letting a tear roll down her cheek. “But Fiona… she said she’d only forgive you if I was dead. So maybe… maybe that’s what needs to happen. What’s one life worth if it means you two can be happy together?”
Satisfied with her performance, Daisy made her way to the riverbank, carefully dropping breadcrumbs about her location in the video. In her mind, it was foolproof – Quentin would see the video and come running. All she had to do was.
wait.
But for the first time, her calculations failed her. She waited until darkness fell,
touching up her makeup and scrolling through her phone, but Quentin never
showed.
Meanwhile, Quentin had indeed seen Daisy’s message. Anger flashed through him. like lightning, and his first instinct was to confront Fiona. But when he spotted her laughing with her coworkers over coffee, his courage evaporated like morning. dew. The fear of pushing her even further away paralyzed him.
Time wasn’t on his side anymore. Neither was opportunity.
After weighing his options, he called Zachary, delegating the Daisy situation to
him.
- is.
Thirty minutes later, Zachary called back, his voice hesitant. “Mr. Sherwood, I don’t think Miss Jennings is actually suicidal. From what I’ve observed, she’s just… well, she’s been checking her phone and touching up her makeup. She seems more. interested in getting your attention than anything else.”
Quentin’s grip on his phone tightened until his knuckles turned white. At such a
1/3
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“Handle anything related to Daisy from now on,” he snapped at Zachary. “Don’t let
her disturb me again!”
Only true feelings could withstand the test of time, and Quentin was finally seeing through the cracks in Daisy’s facade. She wasn’t the innocent, pure–hearted girl she pretended to be. Behind those wide eyes lay calculation and manipulation. The perfect moon he’d once seen in her was slowly being eclipsed by reality. Yet somehow, like a stubborn rose pushing through concrete, his feelings for Fiona were blooming stronger than ever in his heart.
Quentin finally realized just how precious Fiona’s genuine love had been.
Right now, instead of trying to appease Daisy, all he wanted was to watch Fiona for a little longer.
He called over the café server and gestured toward Fiona’s direction.
“Could you please send a strawberry cake to their table? Don’t mention it’s from
me–just say it’s a café promotion.”
The server, delighted by the generous tip, eagerly agreed.
Quentin continued gazing in Fiona’s direction, drinking in how different she looked
now.
Her hair was cut into a sleek, professional bob–so different from before. Gone were the fashionable dresses she used to wear, replaced by sharp, business–casual attire.
Every day she moved with such vibrant energy, her face adorned with a confident,
radiant smile.
Quentin loved this version of Fiona.
He started imagining bringing her back home, planning to arrange a position for her as his executive assistant at the company.
That way, he could see this confident, radiant Fiona every single day.
The thought brought an involuntary smile to his face.
But when he looked up again, Fiona was gone..
The strawberry cake sat abandoned on the table, with only a single bite taken by
17
one of her colleagues.
Quentin’s heart skipped a beat.
Suddenly, all the little details he’d forgotten came flooding back.
He finally remembered–Fiona had never actually liked strawberry cake. It was his favorite, and she had painstakingly learned to eat it just for him. All along, she had been compromising herself to please him.
Quentin downed his coffee in one gulp and stood to leave.
Despite the extra–strong black coffee, he couldn’t taste a thing.
It was as if his entire heart had been filled with nothing but bitterness.
On the drive home, memories crashed over him like waves.
All those things he’d habitually ignored.
What did Fiona truly like? What did she hate? What had she really wanted all along?
Quentin spent the entire night lost in thought, finally falling into an uneasy sleep as dawn approached.
In his dreams, he saw eighteen–year–old Fiona, her sparkling eyes bright with youth, her cheeks flushed pink.
“My biggest wish? Of course it’s to marry you!”
He jolted awake.
His pillow was wet with tears from his dream.
Quentin covered his face, letting out a quiet sob.
He remembered. He remembered everything.
Without hesitation, he got up and booked the earliest flight home.
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