chapter 60

Chapter Sixty

Daniella’s Pov

My stomach twists into a hard knot when Kent says the name of the man waiting at the Sterling Club.

Robert Vance. Freya’s father.

The air in the kitchen turns cold. I look at Kent standing tall in his dark jacket, ready to walk into a shadow trap for four million dollars of bridge liquidity. My throat tightens. Every instinct tells me this isn't an investment meeting—it's an ambush wrapped in a wire transfer. Robert wants Kent crawling back to the family tree, humiliated and broke.

I open my mouth to warn him, to beg him to skip it, then catch myself.

No. I am not playing the frantic, controlling high-society wife who tells him how to breathe.

I step across the floor, reaching out to rest my palms flat against his chest, right over his steady, heavy heartbeat. I look straight into his dark eyes.

"Remember what you promised me, Kent," I say quietly, keeping my voice clear and firm. "You said our relationship would never turn into another corporate deal. Whatever Robert puts on that table... do not sell us out to buy a runway."

Kent covers my hands with his big, warm fingers. The hard line of his jaw softens, a deep, fierce spark igniting in his gaze. "I didn't walk away from a dynasty just to lease my soul back on installment plan, Daniella. I'm going to look Robert in the eye, take the clean cash if the paper is honest, and walk out the door."

"Good," I whisper.

Before he walks out into the night, I pull a plate from the counter. Simple garlic noodles and warm bread. I set it down fast on the small wooden table.

Kent looks down at the plate, then back up at me, a tired, real smile breaking across his face. "You cooked?"

"Eat three bites before you go fight dragons," I tease gently, though my heart is hammering.

He sits down, eats fast like the soldier he is, then stands up and pulls me hard against him. His arms wrap around my waist, lifting me a fraction off the floor. He buries his face in my neck, breathing in my skin like he's storing up oxygen.

"I'm proud of you, Daniella," he murmurs against my throat, his voice rough and deep. "No matter what happens tonight—even if we go back to zero dollars and a shared coin jar—you are my win."

"Go handle business," I whisper back, kissing his warm jaw. "And come back home."

He gives me one last slow, burning kiss, grabs his coat, and steps out into the dark. The door clicks shut.

The apartment feels huge and quiet.

For the next hour, I try to stay busy. I walk into the baby's room—the soft beige walls, the yellow rug, the simple white crib we bolted together with our own hands. I run my hand over the tiny grey wool shoes sitting on the shelf. I imagine small footprints on the floor. I imagine Kent walking through that front door carrying a baby in one arm and groceries in the other, tired, happy, and completely free.

For the first time in my whole life—bouncing from cold foster rooms to quiet panic over scholarship bills—I actually let myself believe it.

I get a happy ending.

The digital oven clock reads 9:45 PM. Kent should be heading home soon.

My phone buzzes loud on the kitchen counter.

Buzz.

I rush over, expecting a text from Kent saying he's in the car.

I look at the glowing white screen.

Caller ID: Freya Vance.

My heart stops dead in my chest. Blood drains from my fingers. I stare at the lit-up screen like it's a venomous snake coil. Why is Freya calling me at ten o'clock at night?

My thumb shakes over the screen. I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear, my voice tight and frozen.

"What do you want, Freya?"

A cold, smooth laugh echoes through the speaker, sharp as shattered glass.

"Hello, scholarship girl," Freya says, her voice dripping with ugly pity. "I wouldn't pick up if I were you. Actually, no—stay on the line. You need to hear what Kent isn't telling you."

My breath jams hard behind my ribs.

"Kent is sitting across the table from my father right now," Freya continues smoothly, pacing her words like a cat playing with a mouse. "He thinks he's negotiating a clean equity rescue. He doesn't know the real price tag Robert slid across the mahogany five minutes ago."

"Shut up," I whisper, my hand gripping the counter so hard my knuckles turn white. "Kent doesn't play games with you people anymore."

"Doesn't he?" Freya mocks softly. "Ask him about the addendum clause, Daniella. Ask him what happens to your enrollment clearance audit at the dean's office if Robert signs off on that four-million wire. My father isn't buying a startup tonight. He's buying your departure. And guess what? Kent is looking at the paper right now, figuring out how to tell you he has to trade our engagement back for your diploma."

The words land like ice water straight down my spine.

No. He promised. He walked away.

"You're lying," I choke out, panic tearing through my chest.

"Am I?" Freya whispers. "Look at your phone, Daniella. Check your encrypted mail drop. My father's legal proxy just copied you on the draft attachment."

The line clicks dead.

Silence fills the kitchen, heavy and suffocating.

My phone pings in my palm. New email notification. Subject: Draft Addendum — Settlement & Institutional Clearance.

My fingers tremble so hard I drop the phone onto the counter with a loud crack. I stare at the screen, terrified to look, terrified not to.

Ten minutes later, the front door unlocks.

Click.

Kent walks inside. His tie is pulled completely off, hanging from his hand. His dark hair is messy. He looks tired—not the tired of a winner, the tired of a man who just survived a wreck.

He steps into the kitchen, looking at my pale face, stopping dead in his tracks.

"Daniella?" Kent asks, his voice dropping low and cautious. "What's wrong?"

I look at him across the kitchen island. I look at the man who gave up an empire for me, standing there holding a secret he hasn't spoken yet.

"Freya called," I whisper, my voice shaking so hard the words barely climb out of my throat. "Tell me it's not true, Kent. Tell me what your father's paper actually says."

Kent’s face goes blank, the last color draining from his skin as he realizes the trap just closed.