The next morning, She was sharper and more withdrawn than usual. Her replies clipped. Her eyes restless, darting to the glass walls as if expecting someone to appear. Daniel noticed. He always do.
By noon, he was fade up with it.
"Something wrong," he said quietly.
She didn't look up. "Everything is…. Fine."
"Kate."
She exhaled sharply. "Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Seeing me," she snapped. "Caring for my wellbeing."
He stilled. "Because you're not as invisible as you think."
Her throat tightened.
"Hawthorne called me," she admitted.
"When?" He asked.
"Last night." Kate replied.
Daniel's jaw hardened. "What did he say?"
She hesitated, finally she replied. "That I don't owe you loyalty."
The words hung between them.
"And?" Daniel asked.
"And I told him to go to hell," she said.
Relief washed over his face before he could hide it.
"Thank you for telling me," he said.
She frowned. "You're not angry?"
"I trust you," he replied simply.
That was worse and far more dangerous than anger.
"You shouldn't," she said quietly. " You have no idea what's on the line."
He leaned forward. "I know exactly what I'm risking."
Their eyes locked again. This time, neither of them looked away.
The silence that hung between them was thick and electrified. Neither of them move. They stood there, staring at each other as if the world was about to collapse on them. The silence rested on Kate's bones like a warning she didn't know how to follow.
Daniel stood less than a foot away now. Close enough that she could see the faint wrinkle between his brows, the way his jaw tightened when he was thinking too hard.
This is a mistake, she'd said.
Probably, he'd agreed.
Yet, neither of them moved.
———
The line finally broke that afternoon. It was over Something small and insignificant . A budget reallocation Daniel approved without consulting her.
Kate noticed it immediately.
"You moved funds from housing stabilization," she said sharply. "Why?"
"To expedite infrastructure," he replied. "It's temporary."
"You didn't tell me." She said.
"Sorry, I forgot to mention it to you."
"You don't make unilateral decisions."
"I didn't—"
"You did," she cut in. "And you didn't even tell me."
His expression tightened. "I fixed a bottleneck."
"By undermining me."
There was a brief silence. Then, he said.
"I didn't mean to."
"That doesn't matter!"
Her voice echoed against the glass walls. A few heads turned outside.
Daniel moved closer, his voice lowered. "We don't have time for this."
"Then you should've respected the process," she snapped.
Something in his eyes darkened—not anger, but frustration held too long.
"You don't get to do this."
"Do what? " she asked.
"Question my integrity whenever something doesn't go your way."
Her breath caught. "This isn't about integrity. It's about control."
"And you don't want to give up an inch," he shot back.
She flinched. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I do," he said quietly. "Because every time I step forward, you brace like I'm about to stab you in the back."
She stared at him, chest heaving.
"Maybe because people like you always do."
The moment those words left her mouth, she regretted them. Daniel went very still. His eyes burning with something Kate couldn't understand.
"People like me," he repeated.
She swallowed. "I didn't—"
"You did," he said. "And you meant it."
The silence that followed was colder than anything before it.
"I need air" Daniel said finally.
He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
"Daniel ," she called.
He paused, hand on the handle.
"I don't hate you," she said, voice trembling. "I'm just… scared of trusting you."
He turned slowly.
"I know," he said. "But remember, fear cuts both ways."
Then he left.
———
That night, Kate couldn't sleep. She begged for it but found none. Every time she closed her eyes, their argument replayed over and over again. Each sharp word carving deeper than the last. She hated how easily she'd lashed out. Hated how much his disappointment hurt.
She told herself she was right to keep her distance for walls existed for a reason.
That didn't help.
For her mind was filled with regrets.
———
Across the city, Daniel sat on his balcony, city lights flickering below. He stared into his drink, untouched. He'd spent his life being blamed for things he didn't do. But this—this hurt differently.
Why?
Because he'd let himself hope. And that was far more dangerous than hatred.
The next morning, everything changed.
Kate arrived at the office to chaos.
By the time she got there, Maya was already standing by her desk, face pale, phone clutched in her hand.
"Kate," she said urgently. "We have a problem."
Kate's stomach dropped. "What kind?"
"Hawthorne filed an emergency motion overnight," Maya continued. "They're pushing to fast-track acquisitions in Westbridge."
"That's not possible," Kate said. "We have joint consent clauses."
"They're claiming breach of collaboration," Maya said softly.
Kate froze.
"What?"
"They're citing internal conflict," Maya continued. "Specifically—between you and Daniel Hale."
Kate's breath left her in a rush. Kate chose that moment to walk in. Their eyes met across the room.
And in that instant, Kate understood the truth with terrifying clarity.
Hawthorne wasn't just watching them. He was waiting for them to break so that he could take advantage of it.
———-
The room felt smaller than it had any right to.
Glass walls. Open space. Nowhere to hide from the damage they'd apparently done without even realizing it.
Daniel was the first to move.
He crossed the office in long strides, stopping in front of Maya. "Explain."
Maya glanced at Kate, then back at him.
"Hawthorne filed a motion with the city council at six this morning. They're alleging breach of collaboration due to 'internal dysfunction' between joint leads."
Kate's heart pounded. "They're using our argument."
"Yes," Maya said quietly. "And it's working."
Daniel exhaled slowly, fingers curling at his side. "They don't have proof."
"They don't need much," Maya replied. "They cited delayed approvals, revised allocations, conflicting internal emails—"
Kate winced.
Emails. Of course.
Daniel turned to her. "Did you send anything angry?"
She met his gaze. "Did you?"
He didn't answer immediately. That was answer enough.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "This is my fault."
"No," Kate said sharply. "It's mine."
Maya stepped between them. "It's both of yours—or neither. That's not the point. The point is Hawthorne's trying to wedge you apart so they can move faster."
"And the council?" Daniel asked.
"Conveniently concerned about stability," Maya said. "They're meeting this afternoon."
Kate's pulse spiked. "That's not enough time."
"It's all we have."
Silence settled over the office again—but this time it wasn't charged. It was dangerous.
Daniel straightened. "Then we don't give them what they want."
Kate looked at him. "Which is?"
"Division." He replied.
She hesitated. "After yesterday?"
He held her gaze. "Especially after yesterday."