DANIEL'S POV
I watched Emily storm off after our argument at Claire's apartment. The fire in her eyes reminded me of a protective lioness. I couldn't blame her—she was just looking out for her sister. But did she have to be so stubborn about it?
"She's gone?" Claire asked when I came back inside.
"Yes, finally," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "Your sister is quite the hurricane."
Claire smiled weakly. "She means well."
"I know." I sat on the edge of the sofa. "How are you feeling, really? And don't give me the 'I'm fine' speech you probably give Ethan."
Claire's smile faded. "Tired. Confused. A little scared."
I nodded. That was honest at least. "Ethan can be... difficult. Trust me, I've had thirty years of practice dealing with him."
"He's not a bad person," Claire said quickly.
"No, he's not. But he's broken in ways most people don't see." I hesitated, wondering how much to share. "Sophia did a number on him."
Claire looked down at her hands. "I know."
"Do you? Do you know he didn't leave his penthouse for three weeks after she disappeared? That our father had to physically drag him to the office?" I shook my head. "I've never seen him like that before or since."
"Until now," Claire said softly.
I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"He's different now. Angrier. More closed off."
Smart girl. She noticed what most people missed.
"That's why I'm worried about this arrangement," I admitted. "For both of you."
Claire's eyes met mine. "I can handle it."
"I hope so." I stood up. "Get some rest. And call if you need anything—even if it's just to complain about my brother."
Claire smiled. "Thank you, Daniel."
As I walked to my car, I pulled out my phone and called Ethan. He answered on the first ring.
"How is she?" His voice was tense.
"Resting. Better than yesterday." I got into my car. "Her sister is a piece of work."
"Tell me about it." Ethan growled. "Speaking of which, why did you give her my private number?"
"Because she called our office seven times and threatened to call the police if someone didn't tell her where Claire was," I said. "Would you rather have had the cops show up at the hospital?"
Silence on the other end. Then, "Fine."
"You should call Claire," I suggested. "She'd appreciate it."
"I sent the files she needs."
I sighed. "Not as her boss, Ethan. As her husband."
"It's not a real marriage."
"Tell that to the press. Tell that to her. Hell, try telling that to yourself."
Ethan hung up.
The next morning, I arrived at Carter Enterprises twenty minutes early, hoping to catch Ethan before his first meeting. His secretary nodded me through to his office.
I found him standing at the window, staring out at the city. He didn't turn when I entered.
"Did you call her?" I asked.
"No."
"Did you at least send flowers? A 'sorry you collapsed from exhaustion' card?"
Ethan turned, his face hard. "What do you want, Daniel?"
"To make sure you're not spiraling again."
"I'm fine."
"Are you?" I studied my brother's face. The dark circles under his eyes told a different story. "When was the last time you slept?"
"I don't have time for this." Ethan moved to his desk. "Some of us have actual work to do."
"Being a jerk isn't going to make Sophia's ghost go away," I said bluntly.
Ethan's head snapped up. "Don't."
"Don't what? Tell the truth? This fake marriage was your idea, but you're treating Claire like she's the one who wronged you."
"She agreed to the arrangement."
"Yes, and now she's in a hospital bed because of it!" I threw my hands up. "God, Ethan, what happened to you? The brother I knew would never—"
"The brother you knew died the day Sophia left," Ethan snapped. His eyes were cold, but I caught a flicker of pain beneath the ice.
I softened my tone. "Claire isn't Sophia."
Something crossed Ethan's face—confusion, maybe. Or recognition.
"I know that," he said quietly.
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you're punishing her for someone else's crime."
Ethan looked down at his desk. For a moment, he seemed smaller, like the weight on his shoulders was finally showing.
"I don't know how to do this, Daniel," he admitted. "Any of it."
Progress. "Start by calling her."
He nodded slowly. "I'll try."
It wasn't much, but with Ethan, you took what you could get.
Later that day, I passed Claire's empty office and noticed a custodian emptying her trash can.
"Doing some cleaning?" I asked casually.
The man nodded. "Mr. Carter's orders. Said the office needed to be spotless for when Ms. Lawson returns."
Interesting. That didn't sound like Ethan.
"Need any help?" I offered, eyeing the papers in the trash.
"No, sir. Almost done."
"Well, carry on." I walked away, then doubled back when the custodian left. Childish? Maybe. But something was off about Ethan's behavior, and I needed to understand why.
I quickly sifted through the trash bin. Mostly junk—old meeting notes, coffee receipts, a broken pencil. But at the bottom was a crumpled photo. I smoothed it out.
Ethan and Sophia, laughing on a yacht. I remembered that day. Three months before their wedding. Before everything fell apart.
I was about to toss it back when I noticed something written on the back: "Remember what you promised. What we built won't last if you forget."
What the hell did that mean? Sophia's handwriting was unmistakable—loopy and dramatic, just like her.
I folded the photo and slipped it into my pocket just as Ethan's voice rang out from the hallway. He was walking with two board members, looking almost... relaxed. The meeting with our Tokyo partners must have gone well.
"We'll have the contracts finalized by Friday," Ethan was saying. Then he stopped, noticing me. "Daniel. I thought you were heading to the London office today."
"Flight's not until tonight," I said smoothly. "Just picking up some files."
Ethan nodded, then continued down the hall. But not before I caught him glancing at Claire's empty office.
That evening, I sat in my apartment staring at the photo. What had Sophia meant? What promise? And why would Claire have this in her trash?
A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. I opened it to find my father, Matthew Carter, standing there.
"Daniel." He nodded. "May I come in?"
"Of course." I stepped aside, quickly tucking the photo under a book.
My father walked in, his posture perfect despite his age. He inspected my apartment with a critical eye before speaking.
"How is Ethan handling things with Claire's absence?"
I shrugged. "Better than I expected. He might actually call her today."
"Might?" My father raised an eyebrow.
"It's Ethan, Dad. Baby steps."
Matthew nodded. "And the girl? Is she recovering?"
"Claire? Yes, she'll be fine."
"Good." My father hesitated. "I received a strange call today. Someone asking about Sophia."
My heart skipped. "What? Who?"
"They wouldn't say. Claimed to be an old friend."
"What did you tell them?"
"Nothing, of course." My father's eyes narrowed. "Is there something I should know, Daniel?"
I thought about the photo in my pocket. The cryptic message. Emily's fierce protection of her sister.
"No," I lied. "Probably just a reporter digging for dirt."
My father didn't look convinced, but he didn't push.
"Keep an eye on your brother," he said as he headed for the door. "This marriage arrangement was risky, but necessary. Make sure he doesn't ruin it."
After he left, I pulled out the photo again. Turned it over in my hands. The happy couple. The strange message.
"What did you promise her, Ethan?" I whispered.
My phone buzzed with a text. Unknown number. Heart pounding, I opened it.
Coffee shop on 5th and Main. 10 AM tomorrow. Come alone. I have information about Sophia that will change everything.
I stared at the message, my mind racing. The same person who contacted Emily? How did they get our numbers?
More importantly, what did they know about Sophia that we didn't?
I typed back: Who is this?
The reply came seconds later: A friend. Someone who knows what really happened five years ago. Someone who knows why Sophia left—and why she'll come back.
My blood turned cold. Sophia coming back? That was impossible. She was gone. Had to be.
Because if she returned now, with Ethan finally showing signs of life again... with Claire in the picture...
It would destroy everything.
I looked at the photo once more before making my decision. Tomorrow, I would meet this mysterious messenger. And if they were lying, they'd regret ever contacting the Carter family.
But what if they weren't?