Chapter 3

3

A week after meeting Lourdes, Kinsley made the call. The interview wasn’t just about the job—it was a step toward making her dream a reality. If she wanted to have the bed-and-breakfast ready for winter, she would need to hire a contractor. After crunching the numbers, it would make money too tight, especially if the contractor found surprises along the way—which was more than likely in a house this old.

When the day for her interview came the following week, she put on a pastel-pink blouse with a black pencil skirt, slipped into some high heels, and made her way to Westerhouse Investments Group. Getting the job would help get things moving. Once the bed-and-breakfast was on its feet, she could simply put in her two weeks’ notice. It wasn’t going to be forever, Kinsley reminded herself as she parked her car, just for now.

The building was indeed the tallest in the town for as far as the eye could see. Kinsley’s nerves were once again out in full force, and the dominating structure didn’t help. The sleek, sharp-edged tower stood like a monolith of modern ambition against the quaint town backdrop—just like she felt. Out of place, and maybe a bit too polished for a town that had always been about warmth and history.

Her reflection in the many glass windows gave Kinsley a bolt of confidence. She had almost forgotten how amazing she looked in outfits like this. She didn’t mind staring a little longer, trying to perfect the gentle sway of her hips as she walked.

Gorgeous interior decorations adorned the large reception area. For a moment, Kinsley felt as though she’d walked into a mansion, or an exclusive resort. The scent of freshly polished wood greeted her, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee from a nearby café cart.

“May I help you?” a kind voice rang out from the desk.

Kinsley’s heart raced as she approached the reception area. So much for that confidence. Her hands began to tremble, so she folded them in front of her as she walked. Reminding herself of her goal, of the house restored to its grandeur, she took a deep breath.

The receptionist’s kind smile helped ease her anxiety, if only a little. “Yes, I’m here to see Lourdes,” Kinsley said, over the lump in her throat.

“Oh, I’m afraid Lourdes isn’t in today. Can I take a message for her?”

“I had an interview scheduled with her today.” Kinsley nervously fiddled with the fabric of her skirt. “But I can come back another time.”

The woman smiled, a bit of pity crossing her face as she typed and clicked around her computer monitor. “She was called away to a meeting, but I see your name here. I’m sorry about this mishap. Let me make a call and see if someone else can meet with you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Kinsley hoped her fingers weren’t too unsteady as she adjusted her blouse.

“I’d hate for you to have come all this way for nothing. Let me make a call, okay?” the woman insisted as she picked up her desk phone.

“That would be great. Thank you.” What else can I say?

“Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll see what I can do for you, sweetie.”

Kinsley walked to the seating area. With each step, the echo of her heels seemed to cheer her on, bolstering her confidence. She straightened her posture, her stride becoming more assured. I can do this, she thought, pushing aside the lingering doubts. Granny always did say heels were boosts for both height and confidence. As she waited, her mind drifted back to being a child, trying on a pair of her grandmother’s heels for the first time, while her Granny and Aunt Jodie beamed with delight.

What if I trip? What if I make a fool of myself in front of everyone? She shook her head at her own self-doubt, trying to banish the negative thoughts. No, I can do this. I have to do this. Although the fear tried to tower over her confidence, Kinsley kept it at bay. Sometimes, the back-and-forth between self-doubt and self-confidence was like a game of tug-of-war.

Trying to stay out of her head, Kinsley watched as men and women in business attire came and went. She had a few minutes to study the walls, covered in artwork and large photographs of other Westerhouse Investments Group buildings in larger cities. Yet, somehow, this small city was their main hub. Poised on an opposite wall was a photo of an older man, whom Kinsley assumed to be the owner. She watched the receptionist at the desk make phone call after phone call, apparently trying to get someone to interview Kinsley.

After about fifteen minutes, a tall blonde exited the elevator, her stride confident and purposeful. Dressed in a tailored suit, she exuded an air of authority. As the woman made a beeline for Kinsley, she straightened up in her chair, realizing she had become perhaps a bit too relaxed.

“You’re here for the receptionist position?” the blonde asked, eyes checking over Kinsley with a smile that followed.

Kinsley nodded. “I’m Kinsley Pruitt.”

“Tina Richards, head of human resources,” Tina said, thrusting out her hand toward Kinsley for a firm handshake. “I’m sorry Lourdes isn’t in today. But don’t you worry,” she paused, “we are getting everything sorted. Why don’t you come follow me?”

Before Kinsley had a moment to respond, the woman walked impressively fast across the gleaming marble floor. Kinsley hurried to keep pace as the woman entered the elevator.

“Westerhouse Investments Group is a great place to work with a lot of opportunities for growth locally, nationally, and even internationally.” The woman selected the top floor as the doors closed.

“It certainly seems like a beautiful place.” Kinsley admired the refined, polished details in the elevator. A faint hum accompanied their smooth ascent, and the light vanilla scent in the air helped ease Kinsley’s nerves.

“Beautiful place, beautiful people. I’ve been with the company for thirty years, back when the current owner was just a baby, and his father—God rest his soul—was in charge.”

“Was the family from the area?” Kinsley asked out of curiosity.

“The Westerhouse family has roots here going back multiple generations. The late Mr. Westerhouse’s widow’s family are also from the area, though none of her family permanently reside here any longer. Trueport was always so important to the late Mr. Westerhouse.” Her voice quieted. “He chose to make this town the foundation for his company. But as he grew, he also realized the importance of having offices in bustling cities. ‘You wanted to go to the money, not have the money come to you,’ he would say. So he set up offices in Chicago, New York City, Miami, and Los Angeles. There are also offices in London and Paris. His son, the current owner, just opened the first new office location in over a decade.”

“Oh, where is the new location?” Kinsley’s mind wandered to all the interesting and luxurious cities it could be.

“Seattle,” the woman said proudly.

Rain.

“We’re still getting that going. I haven’t been, but I’ve heard it is a beautiful building.”

The elevator dinged, the doors opening a moment later. Tina bolted from the elevator at what Kinsley thought was the fastest speed she had ever seen a woman walk in heels. As she struggled to keep up, she was sure that she must look like a newborn giraffe, trying to figure out how to walk.

“Do you typically do interviews for office employees?” Kinsley tried making small talk to calm her nerves. In past job interviews, she’d stumbled over her words and left feeling defeated. She was determined to make a better impression this time. Securing this position would help fund the necessary renovation projects to get the house back on track.

“Rarely. That is in Lourdes’ hands most of the time. I actually have an important video conference to attend in about five minutes. Otherwise, I probably would do your interview today.” She stopped at the end of a hallway, smiled, and extended her arm through the doorway there.

If Tina wasn’t doing her interview…

“Mr. Westerhouse will see you now.”

Kinsley couldn’t decide whether to enter the room or walk through the wall. At this point, the wall might be the best option. Her stomach twisted; no amount of comforting platitudes from Tina could save her now. She was about to stand in front of the man who ran this entire empire. What if she said something stupid? What if he saw through her nerves and decided she wasn’t worth the effort?

Kinsley’s heart pounded in her chest as she stepped through the door, open in Tina’s hand. Is this lady feeding me to the lion? Kinsley faked a smile, hoping it would mask her nerves. I can do this , she thought, trying to steady her breathing, her own encouragement feeling as fake as her smile.

The man behind the desk looked up, his sharp black suit—with a tie not an inch out of place—and neatly combed brown hair a perfect match for the commanding office. His brown eyes, dark and assessing, met hers with a spark of curiosity, sending Kinsley’s heart into a full gallop. His presence filled the room—not just because of his stature, but the aura of confidence that emanated from him.

He greeted her with a self-assured smirk, as if daring Kinsley to step into the ring.

While Daegan typically delegated office interviews to his employees, today was proving to be an exception. A series of unexpected events had cleared his schedule, leaving him the only one available while Lourdes was away for an off-site meeting. Though the interview was for a receptionist—a position Lourdes insisted needed to be filled—Daegan’s need for a personal assistant was far more pressing.

What Daegan didn’t expect was a beautiful woman in his doorway. The natural lighting from his floor-to-ceiling-length windows glistened across her figure, casting a warm glow in the room. It highlighted her face, making her light-blue eyes catch the light just so. He found himself lingering on that detail for a beat too long. The faint scent of her sweet perfume wafted his way, mingling with the crisp, clean smell of the office. Her light brown hair fell in gentle waves, partially held up by a few pins. Her charming pink outfit looked like an impressive work of art on her toned body.

Pull yourself together, Westerhouse. It had been three long, sexless years since Megan had left, and they hadn’t treated him well. Daegan pushed those thoughts aside. This was business, and he couldn’t afford distractions, especially now.

The clacking of her heels echoed through his office. I could get used to that. He cleared his throat, trying to focus. “Please,” Daegan motioned to an empty chair opposite him, “have a seat, Miss…”

“Pruitt. Kinsley Pruitt.” The young woman spoke matter-of-factly, though she seemed to avoid eye contact with him. Nerves.

“Miss Pruitt.” Daegan smiled. “Welcome to Westerhouse Investments Group. I’m Daegan Westerhouse.” Daegan watched carefully as the woman stiffened up, allowing her gaze to draw nearer to him. “You’re here to apply for the receptionist position?”

“Yes, sir. Here is my resume.” Kinsley slid a folder across the desk.

Daegan quickly reached for it, taking a minute to look over the document inside. It was a typical write-up for the position, nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, she was far overqualified for something so trivial. Looking up, he was surprised to finally catch Kinsley’s gaze. A rush of desire flowed through Daegan’s veins; he nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing. Her nervous smile seemed more suited for meeting over drinks, or coffee. It wasn’t just her looks; it was the way she carried herself, a mix of determination and quiet uncertainty. He shoved the thought aside. This wasn’t the time or the place. “I’ll just ask you a few questions.” Daegan set down her resume. The slight squeak broke the budding silence as he eased back in his chair.

Kinsley leaned back without saying a word, though she held onto Daegan’s gaze as if it were the only life preserver in a hurricane. Her confidence seemed to flicker like a candle in the wind—tentative, but steady enough to hold his attention. Daegan brushed off the unwelcome twinge of personal interest. This was an interview, not a date.

“The receptionist position requires a minimum of two master’s degrees, twenty years of experience, and the ability to say, ‘she sells seashells by the seashore’ three times fast,” Daegan joked, though he attempted to keep a straight face.

He failed.

“Can you even say that three times fast?” Kinsley grinned, flipping back a gentle wave of hair over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed as her lips curved into a half-smile. Was she weighing her options, or simply waiting to see where he was going with this? Either way, he was impressed with her composure.

Daegan attempted to smooth out his facial features, but the smile didn’t want to budge. He shook his head, “No. That’s why my father wouldn’t let me be a receptionist, of course.” Having a few minutes to play around and joke was something Daegan had sorely missed. The last few years had turned him from the playful man he used to be into the stern one he was forced to become. She would be wasted as just a receptionist; she was far too capable to be stuck behind that desk.

“What a shame. So you had to settle for CEO instead?” she teased, pointing to the name-plate on his desk. She was getting more comfortable, letting some bits of her personality shine through. Much better than the shy and timid woman who first walked in. He had been needing an assistant, and Kinsley might be exactly what he was looking for. This was a woman who could go toe-to-toe with a board meeting without breaking a sweat.

“Indeed… It was so disappointing,” Daegan smirked. “Well, now that I see you have a sense of humor, I can’t possibly let you take the receptionist position.”

The smile fell from Kinsley’s face. For a moment, her eyes widened, unsure whether or not he was serious.

“Lourdes won’t like it, but I have an opening for a personal assistant. This company needs one far more than we need another receptionist. It pays seventy-five thousand dollars a year, starting pay. Plus, you’ll receive two weeks’ paid vacation time and benefits like health insurance. Basically, you’ll help me with odds and ends. Some travel will be required to our other offices, but all paid for, of course. Some days may be long and demanding, but the bonuses should make up for it. What do you say?” He was throwing this on her like a bag of rocks, but he had a feeling he was doing the right thing.

Kinsley sat in silence for a moment. Then, a smile broke through, her shoulders relaxing once again. “When can I start?” Her eyes sparkled, and he had his answer. Daegan had a good feeling about her, yet something was different—different enough to unsettle the careful balance he had built.

“Why not right now?” Mr. Westerhouse asked with a small shrug. “Unless you have plans for the next few hours, of course. Whenever works for you is fine for me.” He smiled, sending shivers down Kinsley’s spine. The soft hum of the office, the faint scent of his cologne, and the warmth of his gaze all combined to create an intoxicating atmosphere.

A flutter rose in her chest, her heart pounding as a thrill coursed through her veins, chased by a whisper of apprehension. The thought of working so closely for such an attractive man was thrilling. His sharp jawline and those warm, chocolate-brown eyes were undeniably captivating. It was more than just his classic good looks, though. There was something else—the way he spoke, his calm confidence—it all suggested depths Kinsley wanted to explore, even though she shouldn’t.

“What do you say?” His voice pierced through her thoughts, bringing her back to the conversation at hand. Mr. Westerhouse leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the armrest.

Kinsley gripped the edge of her seat to steady herself; he had very dexterous hands. She felt her heart race as she tried to focus. “I can start now,” she answered as she sat a little straighter in her chair, placing her hands cautiously in her lap.

“Excellent.” Mr. Westerhouse’s smile widened. “Once Tina’s meeting ends, she’ll handle the details—working hours, expectations and duties, and getting you set up with IT. You're as good as hired if it all looks good to you.”

Kinsley realized she’d been holding her breath. Mr. Westerhouse seemed to be studying her posture; for how long, she wasn’t sure. When their eyes met, it was almost like a game of chicken. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds of holding his gaze, but that was all it took to put a very different tremble in her hands. It wasn’t fear, but a sense of excitement that was explicitly prohibited. He was her boss, the CEO of this entire real estate empire. Yet there was something about his warm eyes that made her want to fall into them and never leave.

It had been months since Kinsley’s breakup, and this unexpected jolt of attraction was forbidden fruit. She let her eyes linger on the strong line of his jaw, the way his broad shoulders filled out his suit jacket. For just a moment, she could imagine those hands on her, his lips tracing the curve of her neck...

Kinsley forced a nervous smile as she thanked him and promised she wouldn’t let him down. This was her boss, not someone to fantasize about. The boundary was clear, and she had to keep it that way. She was on her way to HR, who could easily have her gone if she messed this up.

For better or worse, as Tina stepped out of her meeting to congratulate Kinsley on the good news, this was just the beginning. What mattered was her fantastic new salary; it would be enough to hire a contractor to get the renovations going even faster than she’d planned. Whatever being Mr. Westerhouse’s PA involved, it at least paid well.

Within a couple hours, Tina had her put into the company’s system, showed Kinsley how to navigate around various departments within the building, and given her a quick run-down of typical working hours and things to keep in mind. By three in the afternoon, she found herself sitting next to Laurel in the reception area. Kinsley received a crash course in the company’s phone, email, and calendar system, along with heaps of gossip about people that Kinsley hadn’t even met.

Although it only took a few hours, Kinsley already felt exhausted when she was told to go home for the day. She hated to admit it, but she was disappointed not to see Mr. Westerhouse again before she’d left. Even after she’d gotten home, Kinsley couldn’t stop thinking about him. Her initial excitement had only given way to a deeper curiosity about the man behind the desk.

Her work phone and laptop seemed out of place on her grandmother's antique dining table—sleek technology at odds with the worn wood, her new life colliding with her old one. Despite it being after work, she half-hoped that new cellphone would ring. That perhaps Mr. Westerhouse would call her for something. Maybe he forgot a file at the office or needed a hand reviewing a big offer. She wasn’t sure why, only that he made a spark in her flare to life. It was something Kinsley wanted to experience over and over again. Even though she definitely shouldn’t.

She jumped in excitement when the phone rang. But it wasn’t even the work line. It was one of her best friends, calling on her personal cell phone.

“Hey, Brienne,” Kinsley sighed.

“You don’t sound too happy to hear from me,” Brienne replied.

“It’s not that,” Kinsley’s voice trailed off.

“Interview didn’t go well, I’m guessing?”

“Actually, it went great.” Kinsley eased back onto the sofa, lifting her legs onto the ottoman. “I didn’t get the receptionist job, though.”

“And that’s great…how? I’m missing something here.”

“I got a better job,” Kinsley confirmed.

Brienne was quiet for a moment. “Okay, you need to back up and explain everything to me from the beginning.”

Kinsley took a sip of water, then held the glass against her skin, hoping it would cool her down. “The lady that was supposed to interview me got called away to a meeting out of state, so the receptionist called around until she found someone else to interview me.” Kinsley adjusted her legs on the ottoman. “That ‘someone else’ happened to be the CEO.”

“Don’t CEOs have more important things to do than interview people for office jobs?” Brienne sounded as if she had something in her mouth.

“That’s what I wondered, but…” Kinsley wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “I got a job as his personal assistant! At least he’s easy on the eyes.”

“How did you go in for a receptionist position and land a job as a personal assistant?”

“Well, according to the head of human resources, the receptionist position wasn’t really necessary. I guess Lourdes, the lady I met at that diner, was really looking for another receptionist just to cover Laurel—that’s their current receptionist—when she goes on vacation, calls in sick, or during hours she isn’t there. Apparently, Lourdes or another one of the ladies that works in the office would have to take Laurel’s spot, and none of them like doing it.” Kinsley felt almost as gossipy as Laurel had been that afternoon.

“Sounds pretty typical for an office,” Brienne said.

“So that’s how I landed this job. Not only that, but I told Tina, the head of human resources, that I’m renovating my house to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast. It turns out that her brother is a semi-retired contractor who still takes up an odd job here or there, so she gave me his number.”

Brienne mumbled something Kinsley couldn’t understand.

“I have no idea what you are saying, Brie.”

“Ugh, sorry. I was holding a paintbrush in my mouth.”

“A paintbrush? You never paint unless you’re mad at someone.” Kinsley straightened up, eager to hear what—or, more accurately, who —was upsetting Brienne.

Brienne sighed. “Well, you remember that guy I started dating a month ago?”

“Which one? The hot resident at the hospital, or the guy that can’t spell in his text messages?” Kinsley tried to scan her memories. Although Brienne wasn’t normally one to date around, she’d been trying to get back into the dating scene again.

“What do you mean which one?” she said through a muffled mouth. “They’re the same one. Oscar.”

“Oh.” Kinsley was trying to rack her brain. “Did Oscar end up being a grouch?” Kinsley was amused at her own joke.

“No, Oscar was actually a Casper because he ghosted me,” Brienne chuckled.

“How do you know he actually ghosted you?” Kinsley grabbed one of the decorative pillows next to her on the sofa and fiddled with a tassel.

“Do you remember how I got two tickets to that playoff game that he really wanted to see?” Brienne asked.

“Yeah, the one last night. But I still don’t understand why you spent so much money on those tickets.”

“I wanted to impress a sexy doctor-to-be.”

“And how did that work out?” It was Kinsley’s turn to be a bit of a smart-ass to Brienne, who so often filled the role herself.

“Oh, it worked out so wonderfully.” Sarcasm dripped in Brienne’s comment. “We went to watch it last night, had a great time, and even kissed when he dropped me off at my house. And then he just…disappeared.”

“You jump to conclusions too much, Brienne. How do you actually know ?” Kinsley wasn’t a stranger to how easily Brienne could come up with wild scenarios, despite the lack of any evidence to support them.

“I know I do, but… Look. He never replied to my texts last night. Or this morning.” Frustration threaded through her speech.

“He could just be busy, Brienne. He is a resident in a hospital, after all,” Kinsley suggested.

“I tried calling, and it went straight to voicemail.”

“You might be overthinking this, Brienne.”

Brienne sighed audibly through the phone. “I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, so I checked Facebook. He deleted me.”

“Oh...” Kinsley’s chest tightened as she pressed the phone closer to her ear. All she wanted was to offer Brienne a comforting hug, but her friend was hundreds of miles away. The dating scene was a mess; Kinsley was content to avoid it. Issues with a man were the last thing she needed.

“But he made sure that his profile picture is the one I took of him last night at the game,” she huffed. “I can’t believe I got used just for playoff tickets.”

“I’m sorry, Brie. That’s pretty immature of him.”

“That seems to be the theme: men using me for whatever I can give them. Ugh,” Brienne said in disgust. “Anyway, enough about that disaster. So, the CEO—he’s hot, right?”

“I didn’t say that .” Kinsley rolled her eyes. “I just said he was easy on the eyes.”

“So, he is hot then.” Brienne sought confirmation.

“Without a doubt.” Kinsley’s mind drifted back to Daegan’s playful smile during her interview. The way it had turned into a smirk at his own idea of a joke.

Brienne's voice was serious when she said, “Kins, just be careful, okay? Sometimes, the most charming men turn out to be the biggest heartbreakers.” She paused momentarily before uttering an almost silent, “I should know.”

Kinsley twirled a strand of hair around her finger, her own nervous habit, as she listened. “I know, Brie. I will. But it's not like that with Mr. Westerhouse. We’re just working together. That’s all it is, and that’s all it will be. We don’t even know each other.”

“For now,” Brienne cautioned. “Kins, I had a coworker who got involved with her boss—it seemed perfect at first, but when things went south, she was the one who had to leave. Don’t let charm cloud your judgment, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt or lose even more. You’re going through enough as is.”

Kinsley sighed. She appreciated her friend's concern, but the implication that she couldn't handle herself left her feeling frustrated. “I promise I'll be careful. But honestly, I don't even know if he sees me that way. It's probably all in my head. We only saw each other once. Besides, I doubt he would ever cross those lines with me. It could risk his business. He is my boss, after all.”

“Maybe,” Brienne conceded. “But just remember, if he's anything like Oscar, he might just be using his charm to get what he wants. And in your case, that could be a lot more than just some playoff tickets.”

Kinsley felt a warmth in her chest at the words of advice. Brienne was just looking out for her; it reminded her how much she valued their friendship, which she needed now more than ever. “I hear you, Brie. And I promise I'll be careful. But I don't think this is anything like that.”

Brienne sighed, but Kinsley could hear the smile in her voice. “Alright, Kins. I trust your judgment. Just remember, I'm here for you no matter what. And if this Mr. Westerhouse guy turns out to be a Prince Charming instead of a frog, I call dibs on being your maid of honor.”

Kinsley laughed, the tension easing from her shoulders. “You may have competition for that position. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. For now, I'm just excited to focus on this job and get these renovations going.”

“And I'm excited for you ,” Brienne said sincerely. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, Kins. Just promise you won't forget about me when you're a big-shot executive.”

Kinsley grinned, twirling the tassel on the pillow. “Never. You're stuck with me for life, Brie. No matter what happens with Mr. Westerhouse or this job.”

As she hung up the phone, Kinsley shook her head. After all, she barely knew her boss. She’d only just met him. Though she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt toward him.

That night, as she drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered: this job was the fresh start she needed. She couldn’t let her attraction toward Mr. Westerhouse ruin it. She had already lost so much—her family, her old life, her sense of direction. This job was going to be a new lifeline, not another way to drown.

As the evening sunset trickled in through the windows, Daegan settled into his leather armchair, a glass of whiskey in hand. The amber liquid swirled as he absently rotated the glass, his thoughts a million miles away. His house was quiet—too quiet. The flat silence was a stark reminder of all he had lost.

He closed his eyes, going back to a time when he would come home after a long day at work to someone other than just Stewart. He would slump down into this very chair as Megan brought him a glass of whiskey, handing it to him with a glittering smile. “You need to relax a little,” she’d say before giving him a kiss. Her laughter used to fill this room, echoing off the high ceilings. In those moments, his house had felt alive and full of warmth. The scent of her vanilla perfume would wrap around him like a comforting embrace, cutting through the sharpness of his drink. Her gentle touch on his shoulder would be brief, but it always grounded him more than she ever knew. But that was before everything had fallen apart. The cracks in his heart had only spread deeper since.

Was I gone too much? Did I not put her first?

Daegan brought the glass to his lips and took a slow sip of whiskey, relishing in the warm, burning sensation down his throat. It had been three long years since Megan had walked away, but the pain still lingered. He had thrown himself into his work, pouring all his energy into chasing success. But no matter how many deals he closed or how much money he made, the emptiness remained, a constant companion in his solitary journey.

From a small compartment in the end table, Daegan pulled out the letter Megan had written to him when she’d left. It was folded up with a printed news article that Daegan wished he could part with. The weight of those bits of paper settled over him, pushing his shoulders down into the forgiving leather.

The quiet clawed at him, wrapping around his chest like a vise. He clenched his jaw, tight with unspoken words, as he stared into the amber depths of his whiskey. Every moment of stillness felt like a weight pulling him further down. Sorrow lay like a stalking shadow of the life he could have had. A life I unknowingly messed up.

His fingers traced the edges of the letter, just as they had every night for the past three years. The old stock had worn soft from years of being unfolded and refolded. He despised it, but Daegan couldn’t bring himself to let it go. Not yet. With a long, lingering breath, he put them both back into the drawer.

He took another sip of his drink, and the seductive burn of it pulled his thoughts straight to Kinsley, the new hire. There was something about her, a warmth and authenticity that drew him in. A part of him wanted to reach out, to feel that warmth again, but the contents of those papers held him back. Kinsley was a temptation that he knew better than to give in to. People like him didn’t get second chances. They just learned to live with their first mistakes.

He stood up and admired the peaceful night through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He had wealth. Power. Success. Yet it all felt hollow. What would his father think of the man he’d become?

The man had built Westerhouse Investments from the ground up. He had been a true visionary, a man of integrity and compassion. Daegan had always looked up to him, had always wanted to make him proud. But now, standing alone in his empty house, he wondered if he had lost sight of what truly mattered.

Daegan finished his whiskey in one gulp and set the empty glass down. Tomorrow was a new day, a chance to start fresh. He would focus on his work, on building his empire, saving Trueport while there was still something left to save.

As he climbed into bed, Daegan couldn't shake the feeling that he knew exactly what was missing. But he pushed the thought away, burying it deep down where it couldn't hurt him. He had learned the hard way to survive on his own, and that was how it would stay. No matter how tempting it might be to let someone in again.

Loneliness was safer; it didn’t leave scars. But as sleep finally claimed him, Kinsley's smile flickered through his thoughts like a half-remembered dream. For the first time in three years, the silence in his house felt less like protection, and more like a prison.