"Why isn’t she replying?"
A deep frown creased Daniel’s forehead as he stared at his phone screen. The silence from the chat felt heavier than it should.
His thumb hovered over the screen — over her na. Still nothing. No dots, no typing, no ssage causing the vein at his temple ticked.
"Because you already gave her a reason to doubt you, Boss," ca a voice from his right.
Daniel’s head snapped up.
Henry was standing there, half leaning against his chair, peeking into the phone in Daniel’s hand as if he had a death wish.
For a split second, silence reigned. Then the air around Daniel turned cold.
Dangerously cold.
"Why do I suddenly feel... colder in here?" Henry blinked, shivering and rubbed his arms.
When he finally looked up and t Daniel’s deadpan stare, his entire soul nearly evacuated his body.
"Ha—hah..." He stumbled back a step, his face turning pale. "B-Boss... I wasn’t—uh—peeking, I just—"
"Henry."
The single word, calm and dangerously quiet, made Henry snap to attention like a soldier facing execution.
Daniel set his phone down slowly, his expression unreadable. "You said sothing earlier. What did you an by that?"
Henry gulped. He could tell Daniel was trying not to explode — which, frankly, was worse than him actually exploding.
"I just ant..." Henry’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "You might’ve co across a little... intense. Maybe that’s why Mrs. Clafford hasn’t replied yet."
Daniel’s gaze flickered toward the phone again, his jaw tightening.
He’d warned Anna earlier — perhaps a bit too sharply — about risking her life on set. And though she hadn’t argued, the mory of her tear-streaked face from that scene still lingered in his mind.
It wasn’t the acting that haunted him — it was how real those tears had looked.
How her voice trembled.
How her eyes had looked like soone who’d lost everything.
He could still hear the sound of her breath catching, feel the panic that had seized him as she vanished beneath the waves.
Now, sitting there, all he could think was — what made her cry like that?
Henry, noticing the change in his boss’s expression, hesitated before speaking again.
"Boss... do you think maybe you made a mistake? By, uh, being so open about wanting to know everything about her?"
Daniel’s gaze snapped to him, sharp and unblinking making Henry winced.
"I an! Not that it’s bad! It’s just—maybe she thinks you’re... watching her too closely and that’s suspicious"
Daniel leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly, his features smoothing into that calm, dangerous mask again.
"What do you an?" Daniel asked, his voice low but curious, his sharp gaze locking on Henry.
Henry hesitated — it wasn’t every day he got to tell his boss that he was, in fact, terrible at feelings.
"Boss," he began carefully, "if you actually intend to beco friends with your wife, you need to gain her trust first."
Daniel’s brows furrowed, his expression unreadable. Henry swallowed hard and continued.
"Right now, she doesn’t trust you. And honestly..." He hesitated, then muttered under his breath, "Can you really bla her?"
"What was that?"
"Nothing!" Henry replied instantly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Inwardly, he sighed. He had pieced it all together — the mysterious userna, the oddly personal ssages, and the sudden concern for Anna’s online followers.
It was all Daniel. His brilliant, ruthless, emotionally constipated boss.
The sa man who had created a fake social dia account under the na DarkKnight_07 just to "keep an eye" on the people obsessing over his wife.
Henry nearly wanted to applaud the sheer irony.
Miss Anna had skyrocketed in popularity the mont she went public — her followers adored her, though most of the attention ca for all the wrong reasons. Daniel, unable to stand it, had found a way to insert himself into her online life under the guise of a concerned stranger.
And yet he wondered why she didn’t trust him.
"You think she doubts ?" Daniel asked after a long pause, genuine confusion in his tone.
Henry blinked. Of course she doubts you!
’What do you think, Boss? She’s not dumb. You’re practically waving red flags and calling them friendship,’ he thought, screaming internally while forcing his face into a polite grin.
"Well..." Henry began diplomatically, "let’s just say your approach might’ve... co across as a little too mysterious."
Daniel leaned back, one hand rubbing his chin as he pondered the words. "Mysterious?"
"Yes. You know, the kind of mysterious that makes won think stalker, not suitor."
Daniel gave him a long, unimpressed look. Henry imdiately looked away. "I an that respectfully, sir."
Silence hung in the air for a mont. Then Daniel sighed — deeply, quietly — sothing rare enough to make Henry glance up in surprise.
"What do you think I should do now?" he asked finally, his tone calr, almost thoughtful. "She still doesn’t trust . Not as a husband... and not even as a friend."
Henry blinked. For the first ti, Daniel didn’t sound like the cold, calculating man who could make CEOs sweat with a glance.
He sounded like a husband — a confused one.
"Well," Henry said slowly, softening his voice, "maybe stop trying to control her and start trying to understand her."
Daniel arched a brow. "Are you implying I don’t understand my wife?"
Henry snorted before he could stop himself. "Boss, you made a fake account to talk to her. That’s not understanding — that’s espionage with feelings."
Daniel’s lips twitched. A ghost of a smirk appeared, but his eyes remained distant — as if replaying sothing in his mind.
"Gain her trust," Henry repeated gently. "Don’t chase it. Don’t demand it. Just... earn it."
Daniel looked back at his phone — at the unread chat, her silence mocking him.
For the first ti, he wondered if maybe the silence wasn’t her punishnt...
...but her protection.
"Anyway," Daniel said abruptly, straightening in his seat, his voice firm enough to cut through the silence. "Did you find what I asked for?"
Henry, grateful for the change of topic, quickly nodded. "Yes, Boss. And you were right."
Daniel’s gaze sharpened. "Go on."
Henry shifted, opening the file in his hand. His expression faltered as his eyes skimd the final page. Even for soone who worked under Daniel Clafford — a man nearly impossible to rattle — this particular revelation left him montarily speechless.
"Boss..." Henry began carefully, his voice lower now, "Miss Anna, at the age of ten, went through major surgery. She—" he swallowed, the weight of the words thick on his tongue, "—she donated sixty percent of her liver to soone."
Daniel’s jaw clenched, his pulse quickening as the words sank in. "To whom, Henry?"
Henry hesitated, then looked up, eting Daniel’s eyes. "To Miss Kathrine, Boss."
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