Pain—an emotion she was no stranger to. Emotional, mental, physical. She had known it all, endured it all, but never imagined it would come from the one person she trusted most.
"Mr. Grant, after so long, you finally appear with Miss Rodrigo! Are you two making your relationship public?" a reporter's voice echoed across the prison hall. "Please make way for Mr. Grant," came the coy voice from the television—the voice of the one person who had shattered her world. "They look like the perfect couple." "Wonder what their baby will look like." "Bet Mr. Grant’s a beast in bed." Laughter bubbled around her, but Daisy couldn’t tear her eyes from the screen. The cold, aloof Louis Grant, who once held her hand, massaged her tired feet, and carried her on his back... now standing beside someone else, his arm draped casually around her. How had everything changed so drastically? Who would remember the woman who had once been the center of his life? The woman who had thrown it all away for the sake of a friend—a friend who secretly coveted everything she had. The sound of the cell door clanking open brought her back to her grim reality. A guard stepped in, a syringe in his hand. "Get up," he ordered. She barely had the strength to comply but was yanked up like a rag doll, pain surging through her body. Soon, she found herself tossed onto the cold floor of an abandoned barn. A familiar burn spread through her veins as the drug took hold, but this time, something was different. It felt worse, much worse. "You angered the wrong people, sweetheart," a voice sneered from the shadows. "With a face like yours, you could've ruled the entertainment industry. Maybe next time, you'll use your head." She was too weak to respond, her body limp as flames began to lick the walls around her. The barn was on fire. So, this was it. She had wanted to die, yes, but she hadn’t expected death to be this cruel. Even in her final moments, there was no peace, only burning agony. But she didn’t fight it. Daisy closed her eyes, surrendering to her fate. Maybe, at last, the pain would end. --- "Wake up, sleepyhead! You have to be on set by ten!" Daisy jolted awake, her sister’s voice piercing through the fog. The scream startled her, not because it was loud, but because she knew her sister was dead. Her heart raced. Was this a dream? She raised her hand, expecting scars, expecting marks of her torment—but her skin was smooth. No blemishes. No burns. She glanced at the mirror across from her bed, and a face stared back at her—a face so familiar yet foreign. The door swung open again. "Come on, baby sis! Breakfast is almost ready, and Mum made your favorite!" Her brother’s voice followed, cheerful, warm. Daisy’s breath hitched. Mum? She grabbed the phone on her bedside table, her hands trembling as she checked the date. August 3rd, 2XXX. She wasn’t dreaming. She was back. Three years before disaster struck. She let out a shaky breath and smiled, a rare, genuine smile. This time, everything would be different. This time, she would rewrite her fate. Her family, who had died protecting her... Louis, the man she had pushed away... and Natalie, the so-called best friend who had orchestrated her downfall... Daisy had a chance to change it all. The phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts. The high-pitched voice on the other end was unmistakable. "Hey, bestie!" came Natalie’s sickly-sweet tone. Daisy’s grip tightened on the phone. Once, she had trusted this voice. Now, it only filled her with disgust. "Hey, Natalie," she replied, her voice steady, controlled. "I heard Louis asked you out on another date! Do you mind if I tag along this time? You never know what he’s up to," Natalie said, her voice laced with fake concern, the same concern that had led Daisy to ruin. Daisy’s lips curled into a smirk. "Yeah, he did ask me out. But I think I’ll handle it on my own this time. No need for external help." Natalie hesitated. "Oh... I didn’t mean it like that, Daisy. You know I care about you." "Of course," Daisy said, her tone flat. "I'll talk to you later." She hung up before Natalie could respond, the smirk still lingering on her face as she turned back to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, but this time, it wasn’t the fragile, naïve girl she once was. She was reborn—with all her memories intact. “Daisy Croft, you’ve got a lot of work to do,” she whispered to herself. The door opened again, and her brother Liam stood there, smiling. "You don't want pancakes, huh, baby sis?" Daisy’s eyes welled up with tears. She had forgotten how much she missed him—his protective nature, his easy smile. "Did anyone bully you on set?" Liam asked, noticing her expression as he pulled her into a gentle hug, running his hand through her hair. "Brother," she whispered, her voice shaky. "You'll always love me, right?" "Of course. Did I ever make you doubt it?" She smiled through her tears. "I'm going to be better now. I promise I won’t make you or Mum, Dad, or Dandelion worry again." Liam chuckled, cupping her face. "My baby sister’s all grown up, huh?" "Yeah, I’ve changed," Daisy said, her voice firmer. She had been reckless, but not anymore. This time, she would protect the ones she loved. "Well, if you're so grown up, get downstairs for breakfast," he teased. "The director's already called six times this morning." Daisy glanced over her shoulder as she walked out the door. She paused, looking back at Liam and Dandelion, who had just entered the room. "You have no idea how lucky I am to have the both of you," she said softly. They exchanged confused glances, but she didn't wait for a response. Daisy had a second chance, and she wasn’t going to waste it.Daisy had never imagined she’d get used to the silence.Not like this.The silence of Ezekiel’s home was soft, like a hush that blanketed everything in peace instead of fear. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that made her skin crawl or her lungs tighten. There were no ticking clocks counting down to another outburst, no creaking floors that betrayed someone approaching too quickly, too angrily. There were no sharp voices through walls, no slamming doors, no whispers behind her back.Just stillness.The rustle of wind slipping through the trees outside the windows. The gentle creak of the old house settling into its bones. The occasional chirp of a bird brave enough to perch near the sill. That was it.And Ezekiel.It was always Ezekiel.Somehow he had managed to weave his way into her life.He had a way of being present without taking up space, of speaking without making her flinch. His presence didn’t demand anything. He didn’t fill the air with meaningless chatter to try and “fix” her. H
The next morning Daisy woke up in Ezekiel's house, it took her a moment to remember she wasn’t dreaming. For a second, she lay there—still, breath held—as if any movement might shatter the fragile peace around her. The sun filtered in through tall glass windows, illuminating the soft sheen of the cream-colored curtains. The sheets beneath her were warm, clean, smelling faintly of lavender and something else—steady, cool, and faintly metallic. It was a scent she was beginning to associate with Ezekiel. For years, mornings meant tension. Meant calculating risk before opening her eyes. Meant holding her breath, listening for footsteps, for keys turning in locks. But here... the only sound was birdsong. The hush of wind in trees. Silence, heavy, but not hollow. Silence that didn’t punish. She turned slowly onto her side, taking in the room—the soft grays and dusty blues that wrapped around her like a lullaby. There was a reading nook in the corner, books tucked into shelves like quie
Daisy sat cross-legged on the floor of the abandoned workshop Ezekiel had claimed as their occasional meeting spot. The scent of sawdust and faint traces of oil hung in the air, and the cracked windows let in just enough light to give the space an otherworldly glow.Across from her, Ezekiel was crouched over a blueprint spread out on a makeshift table, his brows furrowed in concentration. A faint smudge of ink streaked across his cheek, and Daisy couldn’t help but let her gaze linger.“You’re staring,” Ezekiel said without looking up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.Daisy’s cheeks flushed. “No, I’m not.”He glanced at her then, his hazel eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re a terrible liar.”She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite in her response. “Focus on your work.”“I would if someone wasn’t distracting me,” he teased, sitting back on his heels.Daisy huffed, but the warmth spreading in her chest betrayed her irritation. Moments like this—quiet, unguarded—they were b
The room was quiet except for the rhythmic flicker of the lantern hanging from the low ceiling. Its dim light cast warm, dancing shadows over the walls, illuminating the worn furniture and the faint outlines of two figures. Daisy sat in her usual corner, her knees pulled to her chest, her face half-hidden beneath the curtain of her hair. Ezekiel was nearby, his posture relaxed as he leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the small cloth bag sitting between them.“You didn’t eat much last time,” Ezekiel said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, unassuming, but there was a trace of concern in his tone. “I figured I’d bring these along.”Daisy glanced at the bag, her expression neutral. But the faintest flicker of curiosity crossed her face when she caught the familiar scent of freshly baked pastries.“Your favorite,” Ezekiel added, nudging the bag closer to her.Her lips twitched into a fleeting smile she quickly suppressed. She hadn’t mentioned her preferences in years—hadn’t
Natalie watched Louis from across the room, her eyes narrowed as he sat slouched in his chair, nursing a glass of whiskey. His injuries had mostly healed, but the emotional wounds he carried were far from mended. He barely acknowledged her presence, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.She smiled faintly, masking the bitterness that twisted in her chest. Tonight would be the night she secured her future.“Louis,” she called softly, stepping closer. Her voice was soothing, almost maternal. “You’ve been drinking too much again.”“I’m fine,” he muttered, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.“No, you’re not,” she said firmly, taking the glass from his hand. “Come sit with me.”He didn’t resist as she guided him to the couch. She handed him another drink, this one carefully prepared.As he drank, Natalie sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “I’ve been worried about you,” she said, her tone sweet and laced with concern.Louis blinked slowly, his vision beginning to blur. “I’m
Natalie stared out the window of her lavishly decorated parlor, her fingers curled tightly around the stem of her wine glass. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow across the room, but it did little to brighten the storm brewing inside her.The whispers had reached her ears—whispers that shouldn’t exist, whispers that sent her carefully constructed world teetering on the edge of chaos. Daisy. Alive.The name burned in her mind like a brand, fueling a mixture of fear, anger, and something dangerously close to envy. Louis hadn’t been the same since his return from the Sovereign’s clutches. He was distant, restless, his eyes constantly clouded with thought. Natalie knew where his mind wandered, even if he didn’t dare speak it aloud. It wasn’t hard to guess.Daisy.She swirled her wine absently, her mind working through the implications. If Daisy truly was alive, everything Natalie had worked for could come crumbling down. Louis had been hers for years now, tethered by duty and conven