Ezekiel Chen sat in the dimly lit room, the once-pristine office now cluttered with files, empty glasses, and scattered papers. The curtains were drawn tight, shutting out any semblance of daylight. He hadn’t stepped outside in days, his entire being consumed by the storm raging within him.
The scent of burning wood haunted him-an unshakable reminder of the fire that took her. No matter how much time passed, the echo of Daisy’s laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with life, and the warmth of her presence replayed endlessly in his mind. And now, she was gone.
He clenched his fists as he leaned back in his chair, staring at the whiskey bottle on his desk. He’d barely touched it, as though he were punishing himself further by not numbing the pain.
His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him out of his trance. “Sir,” one of his men reported on the other end, “we’ve thoroughly investigated the fire. All evidence points to a tragic accident.”
“Lies.” His voice was ice, cutting through the silence. “You’re either incompetent or playing me for a fool.”
“S-sir, I swear-”
“You swear nothing. You’ve failed.” Ezekiel hung up, tossing the phone across the room. It shattered against the wall, a mere whisper compared to the deafening chaos in his heart.
For someone like him-calculated, ruthless, and always in control-this overwhelming grief was foreign and unbearable.
Ezekiel stood and wandered to the large window, pulling the curtains back slightly. The city sprawled before him, vibrant and alive, as if mocking his misery. His mind betrayed him once again, dragging him back to the memory of their first meeting.
She had been a whirlwind of energy back then-arrogant, demanding, and utterly captivating. Most people dismissed her as a spoiled brat, but Ezekiel had seen something else. Beneath the surface was a woman yearning to carve her place in the world.
He remembered the event vividly. It was at a gala for up-and-coming actresses. Daisy had been furious about something trivial, her cheeks flushed with anger as she berated a waiter for spilling wine on her dress. Everyone watched, whispering, but Ezekiel couldn’t look away. He’d approached her, intrigued by the fire in her eyes.
“I could get you a replacement dress,” he’d offered coolly, “but I doubt anything could match that spark of yours.”
She’d turned to him, her fiery gaze meeting his, and for the first time, she had paused. “Who are you?” she’d asked, as though daring him to impress her.
From that day forward, he was hooked. No matter how many years passed, she was the only woman who ever made him feel truly alive.
Ezekiel tore himself away from the window, his chest heaving. He couldn’t afford to dwell on the past, but the guilt was relentless. He should’ve protected her better. He’d stationed hundreds of guards in the shadows, and yet, they had failed. I failed.
Unable to bear the torment, Ezekiel stormed down to the training grounds beneath his estate. His men stood at attention as he entered, their faces pale. They knew what was coming.
“Who was in charge of Daisy’s protection?” he demanded. His voice was calm, but the venom beneath it was unmistakable.
A young guard stepped forward, trembling. “It was me, sir.”
Ezekiel’s glare could’ve frozen fire. “Do you know what happens to those who fail me?”
The guard nodded, sweat dripping down his temple.
“Good.” Ezekiel motioned to the others. “Take him to the pit. I want him to understand what failure feels like.”
“Sir, please-”
“Enough.” Ezekiel’s voice boomed, silencing the man’s protests. “You had one job. Now, you’ll pay for your incompetence.”
As the guard was dragged away, Ezekiel’s heart felt no satisfaction. His thirst for vengeance was unquenchable, not because of the guard’s failure, but because no punishment could undo what had happened.
Later that evening, Ezekiel retreated to his private quarters. He removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing the scars on his forearms from battles long past. Picking up a blade from the table, he ran his fingers along its edge, the cold metal biting into his skin.
He pressed it lightly against his palm, drawing a thin line of blood. It wasn’t the physical pain he sought, but the release it provided-a fleeting distraction from the chaos in his mind.
“You should’ve saved her,” he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. “You should’ve done more.”
The room around him blurred as tears filled his eyes. For the first time in years, Ezekiel let his walls crumble. He dropped the blade and sank to his knees, his body shaking with silent sobs.
“Daisy…” he choked out her name, the sound of it tearing through him like a blade. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected you.”
Hours passed, and Ezekiel remained in the same position, his mind a swirling storm of regret and anger. His men dared not disturb him, knowing that any interruption could cost them their lives.
But then, an idea struck him. A dangerous, desperate idea.
He stood abruptly, his resolve hardening. If the fire wasn’t an accident, then someone was responsible. And if someone was responsible, they would pay.
Ezekiel grabbed his coat and strode out of the room, his eyes alight with a dangerous determination. He would uncover the truth, no matter the cost.
“Daisy,” he murmured under his breath, “I swear, I’ll find out who did this. And when I do, I’ll make them wish they’d never been born.”