All Chapters of CRAWLING TO YOU: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Aiden’s POVDaisy’s expression dimmed the moment the words left her mouth.For a few seconds she didn’t speak. The noise of the hall…chairs scraping, low conversation, the occasional clink of glass…seemed to pull back from us, leaving a thinner, quieter space around the two seats we had claimed near the middle section. When she finally started talking, her voice was steady in the way people sound when they have told a story enough times to keep the worst of it from cracking them open in public. Barely.“They adopted me after I aged out of the last foster placement that would take me,” she said. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought. That it would be different. A new house. A last name that stayed the same for more than a year. Someone who had to keep me and love me as their own forever.”She gave a small, humorless breath that wasn’t quite a laugh.“I was never part of their family. Not really. Mrs. Shelby made that clear early. If I spoke too loudly, if I left a dish in the sink,

Aiden’s POV The auction wound down under the same soft gold lighting that had washed the hall all evening. Crystal still caught the overhead spots every time someone shifted in their seat. The air had grown warmer with bodies and polite tension, carrying the mixed scent of expensive perfume and polished wood. Paddle numbers rose and fell in practiced arcs. The auctioneer’s voice stayed smooth, never rushed, giving each lot its moment before the gavel landed with a clean, final knock that always drew a ripple of applause. When the last item closed, the MC returned to the microphone. The room settled into a collective, expectant quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the organizing committee, thank you. Tonight’s auction has raised a combined total that will be directed to three partner organizations…the Harbor Light Youth Shelter, the Eastside Family Food Initiative, and the New Beginnings Educational Fund for displaced children. Your generosity will put meals on tables, coats

Aiden’s POVWhat the hell is she planning now?Or was she trying to reach me? Warn me? What exactly is her deal?Daisy’s pull on my arm yanked my attention back before I could decide. Another person appeared in front of us and I didn't even realize when the other person left.“Aiden, this is Christopher Hale,” Daisy said causally. “He's the son of the Minister of finance. We’ve known each other a while.”Christopher Hale had the polished look of someone raised inside influence…good suit, controlled smile, handshake that came in a fraction too firm. His grip lingered and when I met his eyes, the message was already there, clear as a brand.He was marking his territory.I know that look. I’ve worn versions of it myself. Are they dating? Did they date? Does he think I’m his competition?I couldn’t have cared less about Daisy’s love life. My focus was still half-fixed on the woman across the room and the name that shouldn’t have been whispered at a reception desk.Daisy’s phone rang befor

Aiden’s POVI got back to the hotel before midnight and dropped into the chair by the window like my bones had finally filed a formal complaint.Exhaustion moved through me in slow, heavy waves. Everything crashed in as my head began to spin. None of it had gone according to any plan I recognized, and the mismatch left me restless in a way that sleep was unlikely to fix.I had expected something to come out of tonight's event. Some kind of breakthrough, maybe a chance to get closer to the Whitmores or, at the very least, find something useful that would make the evening worthwhile. Instead, I had wasted hours looking around, making small talk, and putting up with people I would rather have avoided.The whole damn evening had been a disappointment. Nothing had gone the way I'd wanted, and I was right back where I'd started.But at least I hadn't come back empty-handed. I brought a gift for my Gabby, and that was something.My phone had been on silent since before the auction. So I pull

Aiden’s POVI think there might have been a mix-up somewhere.Maybe Mrs. Shelby had been confused. Maybe the note wasn't even meant for me… Maybe it was just something that slipped from her bag in the struggle, addressed to a different person entirely, and I had simply been the one standing there to pick it up. That version made the most sense. That was the version I was taking to bed. It simply wasn't for me.I need to focus on the important tasks so I made the decision while the heat worked at the tension in my neck…I would visit the Whitmores mansion tomorrow before leaving for Connecticut in the evening. I'll be taking a more direct approach now. No more shadows and secondhand names.I rinsed off, shut the water off, and stepped out of the glass enclosure.A knock suddenly sounded from the main door of the suite.I froze, water still running down my chest and spine.Then it echoed again and again.I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked out into the main room, dripping onto