The call had ended with a sharp click, her audacity ringing louder than the silence that followed.
Daniel stared at the phone in his hand, his jaw tightening until it ached. With a low exhale, he tossed it onto the desk and pressed his fingers against his temple.
He had only been considerate. That was all. He had realized she hadn't eaten since the night before and, for once, decided to do something about it.
And yet, his gesture of care had been twisted into treachery.
"Ha." His bitter laugh cracked through the quiet office. "She actually thinks I'd poison her?"
The offense cut deeper than he expected. Daniel knew his reputation—knew he was feared, knew his temper was the kind no one dared provoke. No one questioned his intentions, no one accused him of cowardly schemes.
And yet his wife—his newly wedded wife—had not only dared to offend him, but accused him outright of trying to kill her.
"How ungrateful," he muttered, the words dripping with disdain.
"Huh? Did you say something, Boss?"
Henry's voice pulled him from his thoughts. The assistant had just stepped in, a tablet in hand.
Daniel's expression smoothed over instantly, his sharp edges buried beneath a mask of composure.
"No. It's nothing," he replied coolly, watching as Henry moved closer.
"These are the proposals you approved for Bennett Group," Henry said, holding out the tablet. "Do you want me to proceed with them?"
Daniel's eyes skimmed the screen before he nodded once. "Yes. But make sure everything appears normal. No one must get suspicious."
Henry inclined his head. "As you say, Boss." He hesitated, then glanced up, noticing the heaviness in Daniel's face.
"Is everything all right, Boss? Should I… book an appointment with the doctor?"
The suggestion was cautious, almost careful. Henry was one of the few people Daniel tolerated—perhaps even trusted. He was the only subordinate who had managed to remain by his side despite Daniel's overbearing nature.
And for that reason alone, Daniel almost considered telling him about Anna. About her accusations. About the way her eyes burned with hatred every time she looked at him.
Almost.
Instead, he dismissed it with a shake of his head. "No. Just get back to work."
Henry studied him for a brief moment longer, then bowed his head. "Understood."
The door shut softly behind him, leaving Daniel once again in the company of his silence.
He drew in a long breath, forcing his focus back to the files on his desk. But no matter how hard he tried, one thought refused to leave him.
Anna Bennett.
Ungrateful. Defiant. Dangerous.
And for reasons he couldn't name, she had gotten under his skin more than anyone ever had.
***
[Clafford Mansion]
Anna hadn't realized when she'd drifted off to sleep, though it wasn't surprising. The previous night had been nothing short of a nightmare.
Even now, she still struggled to accept the truth—that life had given her a second chance, that she had been reborn to correct her past mistakes.
But amidst all the chaos, one memory refused to fade.
Who pushed me?
Her death had never felt like fate. It had been deliberate. Someone's intention. Yet inside that empty house of hers, who would have dared to come in?
Her thoughts spiraled, pressing against her skull until the dull throb of a headache formed.
"Ugh… never mind. Whoever it was, I should be grateful. If not for that push, I wouldn't have come back in time," Anna muttered, forcing a half-laugh as she sat up in bed.
"In fact, I should find that person and thank them in person," she added with a stretch, trying to shake off the heaviness.
Through the curtains, she noticed the sun had dipped low; it was nearly dinner time.
Her lips pressed into a line as she hesitated. She hadn't touched the takeout Daniel sent earlier—accusing him of poisoning it had left her too stubborn to backtrack now.
Hah. Why is he even acting so considerate? He never was before, she scoffed inwardly, swinging her legs off the bed.
But the thought didn't linger long. What kept her spirits up was the plan she had already set in motion.
The audition.
"Hehe… I can't wait for tomorrow," she giggled softly, excitement bubbling through her like a child's thrill as she padded toward the bathroom.
But the moment she pushed the door open, her laughter died in her throat.
Ah—!
Her back slammed against the doorframe with a loud thud, her eyes widening in horror at the figure inside the shower.
The glass was tinted, mercifully concealing his lower half, but the sight of broad, glistening shoulders and a sculpted chest was enough to send her shrieking.
"Ahhh!"
Heart hammering, Anna bolted from the bathroom, panic and confusion tangling in her mind. Who broke in? When?
Instinct took over. She snatched the nearest vase, clutching it in trembling hands, her eyes locked anxiously on the bathroom door.
Her breaths came quick and shallow as she readied herself. Whoever this intruder was, she wasn't going down without a fight.
"Whoever you are—I won't let you get away!" she warned, lifting the vase above her head as the doorknob turned.
The door creaked open.
"Argh!" she cried, swinging down with all her strength.
"Watch out—!"
The voice froze her mid-swing, and so did the sight before her.
Water still dripping from his hair, a towel slung low around his hips, Daniel Clafford stood in the doorway.
Anna's vase wavered dangerously in her grip. Her mind blanked. Her lips parted soundlessly.
It felt like being slapped straight across the face.
Daniel.
Of all people.
Anna could only stare, stunned and horrified, as the reality sank in.
Daniel, though momentarily startled, quickly masked it. His expression remained composed, only the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned casually against the doorframe.
"Well," he drawled, his lips curling into a smirk, "now I can confirm there's truly something wrong with your head. First you throw divorce statement in my face, and now you try to kill me?"
The jab hit like cold water. Anna's jaw tightened before a scoff escaped her lips.
"Hah. Kill you? Me?" she retorted, slamming the vase back onto the table with a dull thud. "Who do you think I am?" Her glare sharpened. "Who dares sneak into someone's room like a thief?"
Her pulse was still unsteady from the fright, her chest rising and falling, but her eyes didn't waver. For a moment she had truly thought her sanctuary had been invaded. Now, the shock of finding him here sent her thoughts racing.
How is he home this early? she wondered. Wasn't he always too busy with work to even look at me?
Her lips pressed together as another memory cut through—his cold refusal of her homemade meals. The way she had once poured her heart into cooking for him, only to later find a maid throwing every dish away into the trash.
Her face sank with the weight of it, but she forced herself to shake it off, straightening her spine.
"And why are you in my room?" she demanded flatly, her tone cool and edged. "Don't you have your own?"
Daniel arched a brow, his gaze never leaving her. To him, the contradiction was almost amusing—minutes ago, she'd been fumbling like a cornered kitten, brandishing a vase as though it were a sword. And now here she stood, all sharp claws and fire, glaring at him as though she weren't the one trembling moments before.
The tigress had replaced the kitten.
And Daniel found himself almost entertained.
"Well, I must say," Daniel's eyes swept over her lazily, "those pink pajamas suit you. But they don't quite match your tigress personality."
Anna blinked, caught between outrage and embarrassment, trying to decide which reaction to settle on. But before she could form a comeback, Daniel leaned forward, closing the distance until his face hovered just an inch from hers.
"And for the answer to your question, I can go wherever I please," he murmured, his voice low, steady. "It's my house… and this—" his gaze pinned hers, unwavering "—is our room."
The words washed over her like a breath of fresh air, carrying with them the clean scent of soap still clinging to his freshly bathed skin. For a fleeting second, her heart stumbled, her body betraying her with the tiniest flutter.
His tone, his closeness—it was dangerously close to what she had once dreamed of. Gentle. Possessive. Almost tender.
But then reality crashed back.
This was Daniel Clafford. The man who had only ever given her heartbreaks. The man she had sworn never to fall for again.
Her lips pressed tight, and with sudden resolve, she pressed her palm against his chest to shove him away.
But fate had other plans.
Her hand slipped downward, grazing the edge of his towel—loosening it in one clumsy motion.
Daniel's eyes widened. "What are you—?!" His voice cracked into a startled shout just as he clutched at the fabric.
His other arm instintively shot out to steady her. But momentum betrayed them both.
With a thud, they toppled Daniel pulling her with him as the towel threatened to betray his modesty.
And next moment, Anna found herself sprawled over him on the floor, wide-eyed, her breath tangled with his, their bodies pressed flush in a way that sent her pulse racing against her will.
The silence that followed was deafening, charged, dangerous.
'Did they kissed'