Chapter Six: The Line

When he’d told her to take off her shirt, Olivia hadn’t hesitated. She hadn’t backed away, hadn’t folded her arms in protest or spat something cutting in return. Not because anything had changed. Not because she wanted him.

But because on the elevator ride up, she had made a decision.

You are not afraid. You are not a victim. You are not going to cry.

She’d whispered those words inside her head like a spell. A shield. A mantra forged in defiance. She would let this happen, and then she would forget it. Bury it like a secret. Like all the others.

But wanting to be brave and being brave were two different things.

Because when he stepped toward her, she flinched.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even obvious. Just a small, instinctive recoil, her shoulders tensing, breath catching, eyes narrowing like she was bracing for impact.

And then he stopped.

Against all the things she’d come to expect that wasn’t one of them.

Of all the things she expected from Daniel Reyes, that wasn’t one of them.

He just… stopped.

She had expected fury. Brutality. For him to throw her against the wall, to be cruel and violent, to take what he thought was owed.

She knew he had never been that way with Samantha.

Samantha had been candid about their sex life, long before Olivia had ever touched her. She’d described Daniel’s tenderness, the way he worshipped her with reverent hands and quiet breath. His kisses were slow. His touch, gentle. He adored her. That was the problem between them.

And yet, Olivia had expected more. Or worse. She wasn’t even sure which.

She didn’t say it, but Daniel knew what she had assumed. That he would pin her to the desk. Take her like an animal. Like a man who had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

But the truth was, Daniel didn’t know how to be rough. He didn’t know how to take.

He had only ever been sweet. Attentive. The kind of man who asked, who waited, who traced slow kisses down Samantha’s spine, who whispered love into her skin.

And that infuriated her. Because Samantha had come to her wanting everything but that. So, she crossed her arms and hissed, “Get on with it, asshole.” She stood tall in her dark bra, spine straight, chin high, fury clinging to her like armor.

He should want this.

Daniel stared at her. Unmoving. His fists curled at his sides. His jaw tight.

He should want this. He should feel satisfaction. Power. Vindication.

But he didn’t.

Instead, something in him began to fray. Beneath the rage, beneath the betrayal, something rotted. Something ugly. Something that made him sick.

But beneath it, beneath the rage and the betrayal, there was something else. Something ugly. Something that made him sick.

“I have a right to be angry.” The words came slowly, measured.

Olivia tilted her head, considering him. “Yeah. You do.”

That pissed him off “The weight of his words came low, heavy. “I’m the Latino kid from the barrio.”

Olivia stilled.

“I’m the one who got out,” Daniel continued, his voice steady, controlled, but laced with something sharp, something bitter. “The one who did everything right. The one who made it. The one who married the rich white girl and built a perfect life. Who wears the fine suits, drives the right car, shakes hands with the right people.”

His lips curled slightly, but it wasn’t amusement.

“But at the end of the day, I don’t get to be angry. I don’t get to break things. I don’t get to lose control.” His eyes locked onto hers, sharp as a blade. “Least of all with a white woman like you.”

Olivia swallowed.

She wanted to snap something back, to challenge him, to push back against this new rawness in his voice.

But she didn’t.

Because Daniel wasn’t done.

“I was a legal aid attorney for a while,” he said quietly. “Before I started working in corporate law. You probably didn’t know that.”

She didn’t. She never wanted to know anything about him.

“I worked with battered women,” he continued, his voice steady but carrying a weight that settled deep in the room. “I saw my aunt get beat bloody by her husband when I was ten years old. I saw my mother take her in, clean her up, tell her she had to leave.”

His hands flexed, then curled into loose fists again.

“I saw what that kind of anger does,” he murmured. “What it makes men into.”

His gaze cut into hers, raw and piercing. “And I swore-swore—that’s the last thing I would ever be.”

Something inside Olivia twisted. She had never seen this side of him. Never known anything about his past, about what shaped him, what kept him locked inside that calculated, controlled mask.

All she had ever seen was the proud, perfect Daniel Reyes. The one with the sharp gaze, the careful posture, and the unshakable confidence.

But this? This was different.

This was a man who carried the weight of every expectation, every unspoken rule about who he could and couldn’t be.

And for the first time, Olivia understood.

Daniel Reyes wasn’t just angry at her.

He was angry at himself.

Because no matter how much he wanted to destroy her, to take something from her the way she had taken from him.

He couldn’t let himself be that man.

“Even if I’m furious with you,” he said, quieter now, “I can’t let myself be angry. Because I’d hate myself for it. And I’d hate for my son to ever see me that way.”

Olivia held his gaze.

For the first time since stepping into that room, she didn’t feel like they were standing on opposite sides of a battlefield.

She felt like she had just walked into the wreckage of something that had been crumbling long before she ever touched it.

And that realization left her speechless.

Daniel took a slow breath, his fingers flexing at his sides. His pulse was hammering against his throat, his body taut with something raw and burning.

And then, suddenly, it was gone.

Like a fire that had consumed all its oxygen.

He closed his eyes for a brief second, inhaled deeply, and let the weight of reality settle over him.

He knew it now, maybe he’d always known it. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this.

The realization crashed over him like cold water, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and a bitter, gnawing disgust.

Not at Olivia.

At himself.

At the fact that he had even let himself think he could do this. That he had sat in that bar, laid out his threats, dragged her into this room—

And for what?

To make her feel as powerless as he felt?

To take something from her just because he could? His stomach twisted.

This wasn’t justice.

This wasn’t ****.

This was just another man trying to hurt a woman. Maybe not with his fists, but he would be hurting her regardless. He’d seen it before.

He had seen it in the courtroom, in case files filled with horror stories. He had seen it in the faces of women who sat across from him, clutching trembling hands, trying to justify the men who had broken them.

He had seen it in his own goddamn family—his aunt, standing in the kitchen with swollen eyes and split lips, whispering, “It’s not his fault, Dani. He’s just going through something.”

And he had sworn he would never be that. He couldn’t be that. He needed to be an example for his son.

He took a breath, a long deep breath, and he let it go. Not the anger, but the part of him that had wanted to hurt her.

He stepped back and took another breath. And then he laughed. Not because it was funny. Not because anything about this was remotely amusing. But because he felt fucking sick.

Olivia’s eyes flickered with something sharp and wary. She had been standing still, shoulders squared, her hands subtly curled at her sides like she was preparing for a fight.

But now, she was watching him. Studying him.

“…What the hell is so funny?” she asked, her voice low.

Daniel exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ.”

She tensed slightly, shifting her weight. “You’re seriously losing it,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

“Yeah,” Daniel scoffed, dragging a hand through his damp curls. “Maybe I am.”

The silence hanged between them for a while. Until he finally spoke and said, “This isn’t happening,” he said flatly.

Olivia stiffened slightly. “Oh, what, just like that?”

“Just like that,” he snapped. His tone was sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care.

Something flashed in her eyes. Something she wouldn’t name.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick, pulsing with everything that had been said and everything that hadn’t.

Then, Olivia exhaled, tilting her head slightly. Not relaxed. Not relieved. Just… watching.

“You deserve everything that’s coming to you,” he said. “You’re a selfish, home-wrecking piece of shit.”

Olivia’s expression flickered, something curling at the corner of her mouth. “Charming.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t test me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Daniel exhaled again, running his tongue over his teeth before shaking his head with disgust.

“Get the hell out, Olivia.”

She didn’t move right away. Instead, she just stood there, watching him, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, finally, she exhaled, and picked up her blouse, buttoning it back up, before she finally turned, and walked out.

The door shut behind her, leaving Daniel alone in the silence. He stood there for a long moment, his pulse still loud in his ears. Then, slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands.