Chapter 2: Anger

Olivia clenched her jaw so hard she thought she might break a tooth.

She wasn’t afraid of Daniel Reyes. She wasn’t.

But she was trapped.

She felt it before he said anything, that subtle shift in the air, the way he sat with deliberate ease, his fingers tracing slow, thoughtful circles against the rim of his whiskey glass. His expression remained neutral, unreadable, almost casual. Almost.

Daniel had perfected the art of control. In boardrooms, in negotiations, in every space where power mattered. He didn’t bluster. He didn’t rage. He simply waited. And when a man like him waited, it was because he already knew he had won.

She knew it the moment she walked into the bar and saw that look in his eyes cold, assessing, controlled. Daniel had never liked her, and she had never liked him, but this wasn’t the usual passive-aggressive sparring they’d engaged in over the years. This was something else entirely.

This was a man who had lost everything and wasn’t planning on walking away empty-handed.

Olivia refused to be the first to speak. If he wanted something, he could damn well say it. She rolled her shoulders back, straightening in the booth, forcing herself to look as if she gave a damn about the conversation. Then, she exhaled sharply; dismissive, bored, as if he were nothing more than an inconvenience. “So what now?” she scoffed. “You call me out, throw your little tantrum, and now what? You expect me to go crying to Marissa? Hmm? Think I’ll break at the first sign of pressure?”

Daniel didn’t so much as blink. He just stared at her, unflinching, his fingers absently tapping the rim of his glass. The ice in his whiskey had started to melt, the liquid dark and smooth like the steady, controlled fury simmering beneath his calm expression.

“You think this is a tantrum?” he asked, voice even, measured. “No, Olivia. A tantrum is what you threw the first time we met because I had the audacity to exist in your precious Samantha’s life. This?” He gestured between them. “This is just facts. And here’s another one—you don’t have the upper hand anymore. So cut the act.”

Olivia’s fingers curled into fists against her lap.

“What do you want?” she snapped. “To tell Marissa? Ruin my marriage like I supposedly ruined yours? Would that make you feel better?”

Daniel’s grip tightened around his glass. His jaw flexed, the only outward sign of the anger coiling in his chest.

“Would it be poetic justice?” he mused. “Maybe. Exposing you for the liar you are? Watching Marissa realize she wasted years of her life on someone who doesn’t deserve her?”

Something flickered in Olivia’s eyes, just for a second. A weakness. He knew it wasn’t fear for herself—it was for Marissa. And that pissed him off even more.

“She doesn’t deserve this,” he muttered, more to himself than to Olivia. His fingers tapped against the table again, this time harder. “Marissa is kind. Selfless. Everything you and Samantha pretend to be.”

Olivia’s eyes flashed. “Don’t fucking talk about her like you know her.”

Daniel exhales sharply thinking about how easy it would be to destroy her life, but that would men destroying his own. And as much as he wanted to throw Samantha to the wolves he couldn’t do that to her and their son, not yet at least. Maybe it was wrong to focus all his rage on Olivia, but that’s where he was at the moment. “I do know her,” he said quietly. “I know she’s a kind, and sweet woman, someone who’s willing to give back to this world ten times over, and I know she’s trusts you and thinks you’re a **** person than you are.”

Olivia’s fingers curled tighter in her lap. “If you’re looking for a confession, Reyes, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“I don’t need a confession when I have evidence,” he said to her tapping his phone again.

She groaned, “You’re a fucking bastard, Reyes.”

Daniel tilted his head. “And yet, I’m not the one who fucked my best friend.”

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Is that what this is? Is your pride wounded? All that straight masculine energy of yours gone to waste,” She leaned in, lowering her voice a wicked smile on her face. “I fucked her, Daniel. I fucked her every chance I got, in your house, on your bed, in your living room, in your kitchen, everywhere. And you know what? She came back to me. Every. Single. Time.”

Daniel didn’t flinch, he didn’t move except to drink more. But Olivia could see that flicker of something dangerous. Truth be told she couldn’t recall a time she’d ever seen Daniel Reyes angry, nor had Samantha ever said he’d been angry with her, never even so much as raised his voice, that had been the problem.

“Feel better now?” he finally asked, voice smooth, unreadable.Olivia exhaled sharply, her wicked smirk faltering just slightly when he didn’t take the bait.

A thick silence stretched between them, the sounds of the bar fading into a meaningless hum around them. Olivia had spent years treating Daniel like an annoyance, an inconvenience. Belittling him in front of Samantha. Why? Because she knew she could do better. She’d treated him as a man she could mock, dismiss, and treat as less than.

She crossed her arms, shifting in her seat. “You going to tell me what the hell you actually want, or are you just going to keep acting like a third rate Bond villain?”

Daniel let out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head. “You think I’m here to destroy you?”

She scoffed. “Aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he said raising his whiskey glass to drink the last of it. “But not in the way you’re thinking.”

She **** herself to hold his gaze those damned striking green eyes of his cutting right through her quiet edgy demeanor. “So what is this, then? What game are we playing now?”

Daniel exhaled, slow and even, before finally speaking. “I have an offer for you.”