บททั้งหมดของ HIS BLIND OBSESSION : บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

The article went live at six in the morning. I was already awake. I had been awake since four, lying in the dark thinking about Hale’s new terms that Damien hadn’t told me about. Marcus had texted me at eleven the night before because, apparently, he had decided I deserved to know. He wants Noah removed from Cole Enterprises entirely. And Damien had said no without hesitating. I had read that text four times before putting my phone face down and staring at the ceiling until six, when Victoria’s piece dropped and my phone lit up like something had caught fire. I opened it. The headline read: NOAH CARTER: THE MAN WHO SAVED A $38 MILLION DEAL AND WHY RICHARD HALE DOESN’T WANT YOU TO KNOW HIS NAME I sat up. Then I read it from the beginning. Victoria had done exactly what she promised. Not one word about the romantic angle. Not one word about the filing’s implications. Just Noah Carter, twenty-three, literature degree, who had found a liability clause an entire legal team had m

Daniel looked terrible. That was the first thing I noticed. He stepped out of the elevator with his coat still on, his hair slightly out of place, and none of the easy warmth he usually carried with him. He looked tired. Hollowed out. He saw me first. Stopped. “Noah.” “He’s in his office,” I said. “He’s ready to see you.” Daniel nodded but didn’t move immediately. “I didn’t know,” he said. He wasn’t asking me to forgive him. He was just saying it. “I know.” “I should have—” “Daniel.” He looked at me. “Go in.” He nodded and walked toward Damien’s office. The door closed behind him. I stayed at my desk. I pulled up the press response Marcus had drafted, read through it, made three edits and sent it back. Then I tried very hard not to listen to what was happening down the hall. I failed. Not the words. Just the tone. Damien’s voice was low and even, the controlled version of him I knew so well. Daniel’s was tighter. Then silence. Then Damien again. Then nothing f

The retraction went live at nine in the morning. I read it at my desk with my coffee going cold beside me. It was thorough. More thorough than I expected. Hale’s lawyers had clearly been instructed to make it clean because anything less would only create another problem for them. Cole Enterprises wishes to clarify that Mr. Noah Carter’s role within the company is entirely professional in nature and reflects his exceptional competence. Mr. Carter identified a significant liability clause in the Mercer restructuring contract that protected Cole Enterprises from considerable financial exposure. His work on the Calloway acquisition was instrumental in preserving a transaction worth thirty-eight million dollars. Any suggestion of impropriety or irregular conduct on Mr. Carter’s part is without foundation and is hereby retracted in full. My name. In print. Cleared. I read it twice. Something in my chest finally loosened. I’d been carrying that tension since Hale’s filing appeared, ev

Ten days felt different from seventeen. Seventeen had been abstract. A number on a checklist. Ten was something I could actually feel in the penthouse, in the way Damien moved through it, in the way our mornings had changed without either of us saying anything about it. He was quieter. Not the cold quiet. Not the wall he used to put between himself and everyone else. Something more internal. Like he was thinking about what came next and didn’t quite know how to say any of it yet. I gave him the space. I did the work, managed the schedule, completed the last three prep items, confirmed everything with Dr. Anand’s team, arranged the flights, clinic intake, medication instructions and everything else that needed doing. Because it needed doing. On day four, Daniel came for dinner. Not with an agenda this time. Just dinner. The three of us ended up in the kitchen with food Damien hadn’t asked me to make but I’d made anyway, while Daniel sat on the counter eating directly from the

The penthouse was wrong without him. Not dramatically. Just off. Like someone had moved one thing in a room and you couldn’t quite identify what it was, but you felt it every time you walked in. I made his coffee at 6:28 on the first morning out of habit. Set it on the right side of the desk. Two inches from the corner. Then I stood there looking at it for a moment before going back to my own desk. I worked through the morning. Mercer follow-up correspondence. Henderson Q4 preparation. Emails. Calls. Things that didn’t need to be done urgently but needed doing, so I did them. At noon, I made lunch for one and ate it standing at the counter because sitting at the table felt wrong. Caleb came after school. He let himself in with the spare key I’d given him, dropped his bag on the floor, kicked off his shoes by the door and made himself comfortable on the couch like he always did. “Hey.” “Hey. How was school?” “Fine.” He looked toward the kitchen. “Is there food?” I laug