Eight

Chapter Eight: Unwanted thoughts

Daisy couldn't stop thinking about what she heard few hours ago. What if they ran into each other? What if he's close by at the moment? What if he looks for her?!

So many what ifs running through her mind right then and she didn't know just how to calm down.

She wasn't sure why she was thinking so much about it. She remembered her past and if they see each other again after those years, things may get complicated.

______

Since Will arrived in Country C, he had been busy getting things settled. Most of his time was spent at the headquarters, organizing his office, introducing himself to staff, and making sure everything was running smoothly. At the same time, he was also moving into his new apartment, unpacking and trying to create some sense of home.

José, on the other hand, chose to live in his own penthouse. He needed privacy, and Will didn't press the matter. It was José's space, and Will respected that.

Meanwhile, the whole internet and news outlets were abuzz with the announcement of Will's arrival in Country C. Will was certain that, sooner or later, his family would call — after all, he knew that by now, they must have seen the news.

He had already gone to the headquarters to make it clear that he was in the country and intended to stay for a long time. As the CEO, he could do whatever he wanted.

With every passing hour, she was still on his mind. He couldn't shake her off—not even for a second. Every tick of the clock reminded him of what he had to do, what he needed to do. He had to find Daisy. There was no other option. No other mission in his life right now was as important as this. She was always there, right at the edge of his thoughts—lingering like a shadow that refused to leave, haunting him with every breath he took.

And the truth was, he could find her. In fact, he already knew exactly where she was. Where she lived. Where she worked. Where she liked to eat with her best friend. He had all of that information—every single piece of it—handed to him like a detailed map, and that map led directly to her. Tony had made sure of that. Tony was loyal, smart, and fast. He'd done his job well. He gave him everything. Her address. The hospital she worked in. The corner café she visited every Friday afternoon. Her usual order. The route she took to work. The little grocery store she liked because it had imported snacks. All of it. Laid out in perfect clarity.

But even with all that knowledge, all those facts, and all those locations, something kept holding him back. A feeling. A thought. A hesitation.

He didn't want it to look like he knew.

Because deep down, he felt it would ruin things if it came off like he'd been keeping tabs on her. Like he'd been watching her every move, like some kind of shadow from the past who couldn't let go. Even though… that's exactly what he was. He didn't want her to think that he had been obsessively tracking her—even if he had. Even if he never truly stopped. He wanted their meeting to seem like fate, not surveillance. Like a coincidence, not a calculation.

But as he stood there, wrestling with his own thoughts, his own guilt, and the weight of everything they never said to each other, something snapped in him. That little voice in his head—the one that kept urging caution, whispering fears, and spinning worst-case scenarios—was drowned out by a louder, more powerful one.

Fuck it.

That was all he could think now. Just those two words, over and over. Fuck it. Screw what it looks like. Screw what she might think. He was going to find her. One way or another. Because not seeing her wasn't an option anymore. Because not knowing how she was doing, not hearing her voice or seeing her face—it was unbearable. It was like carrying a wound that never healed, only bled more with time.

He didn't care how it looked anymore.

He was going to find Daisy.

And then—whatever happens, happens. If she screamed, he'd take it. If she slammed the door, he'd understand. If she never wanted to see him again, he'd walk away. But if there was even the slightest, tiniest chance that she didn't hate him… if there was just one ounce of space left in her heart for something other than anger or pain, then maybe—just maybe—he could explain. Maybe he could tell her everything.

He didn't know how things would go. He didn't have a perfect plan or the right words.

But one thing was clear.

He was going to see her.

And no matter how it ended, he hoped—truly, deeply hoped—that she didn't hate him.

Because that would destroy him more than anything else ever could.