The days at the Palen mansion stretched long, each one blending into the next. The world outside had come to a halt, and inside the vast estate, Edward and Daisy were trapped in their own quiet reality. The lockdown made sure of that. No cars. No public transport. Only the silence of empty streets and the occasional rustle of the trees in the garden.
Edward had taken to cycling around the mansion's perimeter, weaving between the pathways with a quiet sense of purpose. Sometimes, Daisy watched from the porch, arms folded, wondering what was going through his mind. Other times, he'd slow down and call out to her, inviting her to join him. She always refused—at first.
One afternoon, after much persistence from Edward, Daisy finally relented. "Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "But don't expect me to race you."
Edward grinned, handing her one of the bicycles. "Wouldn't dream of it, Squirrel."
Daisy sighed at the nickname but took the handlebars anyway. As they pedaled through the empty pathways, she felt a strange sense of ease—something she hadn't expected. There was no city noise, no pressing urgency. Just the sound of the wind and Edward's occasional laughter as he playfully tried to get ahead of her.
After a while, they stopped near a small fountain in the garden. Edward parked his bicycle and sat on the stone ledge, staring into the rippling water. "You know," he said, "I used to sit here as a kid and pretend my parents were just inside, waiting for me."
Daisy hesitated before sitting beside him. "Did it help?"
Edward chuckled. "Not really. But it was better than accepting the truth."
Daisy looked down at her hands. She had spent so much time thinking of Edward as nothing more than a target—an easy mark. But now, here he was, sharing a piece of himself she never asked for, and she felt something unsettling in her chest.
Guilt?
She wasn't supposed to feel this way.
Edward turned to her, his expression softer than she had ever seen it. "You don't talk about your family much," he said. "What about your parents?"
Daisy's stomach twisted. "My mom is sick," she admitted. "That's why I—" She caught herself, pulse quickening. "That's why I worry a lot."
Edward nodded, as if he understood something unspoken. "She's lucky to have you."
Daisy forced a smile, but the words sat heavy on her heart. Lucky? If only he knew the truth.
As the sun dipped lower, Edward stood and stretched. "Come on, let's head back before Dero starts making up ghost stories about us disappearing."
Daisy smirked. "He'd probably say we were kidnapped by the spirits of the Palens."
Edward laughed, mounting his bicycle. "Exactly. And I'd rather not deal with his theories tonight."
As they rode back to the mansion, Daisy couldn't shake the feeling that something inside her had shifted. And she wasn't sure if she liked it.
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Daisy never believed in happy endings. Fairy tales were for children, and reality had no room for magic. Life was a series of transactions—some profitable, some costly. And this deal, if played right, could finally tip the scales in her favor.
She had learned to stop believing in miracles the day her mother was diagnosed. Watching her strong, unwavering mother wither under the weight of disease had stripped Daisy of any remaining innocence. The doctors needed money. The medicine needed money. And money didn't come from wishing—it came from doing what had to be done.
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Daisy had always been good at pretending. She had worn many masks in her life—daughter, lover, thief—but the one she wore now, the one that involved softening at Edward's kindness, was beginning to feel less like a mask and more like a weight pressing against her chest.
Days at the Palen mansion blurred together. The lockdown had turned time into a slow-moving current, forcing Daisy to exist in a space she never planned to stay in. Every morning, Edward greeted her with a sleepy smile and a playful "Good morning, Squirrel." Every evening, they shared quiet dinners where he spoke about books, business, and dreams he once had. And every night, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, knowing she was betraying a man who didn't deserve it.
She had meant to leave on the third day. That had been the plan. But on the third day, Edward had made her tea and told her about his parents—not the rehearsed version people knew, but the raw truth of loss, of being a child alone in a world that only saw his money and not his grief.
And on the fifth day, she had laughed—genuinely laughed—at one of his ridiculous jokes. It had startled her, the way it slipped out, unguarded and real.
By the ninth day, she stopped checking her phone for Harry's messages.
Edward, oblivious to the storm in Daisy's mind, had fallen into an easy rhythm with her presence. He never questioned why she was there, never asked for anything in return. He only watched her with a quiet patience, as if waiting for her to tell him the truth without knowing what that truth was.
Then came the twelfth day—the day that changed everything.
It started with rain, heavy and unrelenting. The mansion, usually a quiet sanctuary, became a cocoon of dim light and the rhythmic drumming of water against glass. Edward, restless, suggested they take a walk—inside, of course. "There's something calming about walking when it rains," he had said, smiling in that way that made Daisy feel like a fraud.
They wandered through the halls, past grand paintings and memories Edward didn't voice. At some point, they reached his study. Edward hesitated before opening the door. "There's something I want to show you."
Inside, the room was lined with bookshelves, a desk neatly arranged, and in the corner, a large wooden chest. He walked to it, kneeling as he lifted the lid. "This… this is everything I have left of them."
Inside were old photographs, his father's wristwatch, a few letters. Daisy knelt beside him, feeling the air shift between them. She saw the way his fingers trembled as he picked up a picture of his mother.
Without thinking, she reached out, covering his hand with hers. "They'd be proud of you, Edward."
He looked at her then, really looked at her. And for the first time, Daisy realized she didn't want to be the person who broke him.
But the truth was, she already had.