Chapter 85
Chapter 85:
Dallas froze. His hand, which had been reaching for the coffee pot, stopped mid-air. His eyes darkened, the pupils dilating until the irises were nearly black.
“Don’t call me that,” he warned. His voice was low and rough, vibrating with something that wasn’t quite anger.
Eliza paused, confused. “What? ‘Father’? Why p>
“You are not Azalea,” Dallas said. He leaned forward across the small table, closing the distance between them. “And when you say it, it means something entirely different.” He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper that scraped against her nerves. “Unless you mean it in a very different context p>
Eliza choked on a piece of croissant. She coughed violently, her face turning a deep crimson. The implication hit her like a physical blow.
Dallas watched her over the rim of his coffee cup, hiding a smirk.
𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇
“Eat,” he said, standing. “We leave in ten minutes. I have a meeting, and you have a day off p>
He walked back into the suite, leaving Eliza alone on the balcony with the empty water glass and a heart beating so fast she felt dizzy.
Monday morning at S&D Design felt less like a creative studio and more like a bomb disposal unit where someone had just cut the wrong wire.
The air was thick with tension and stale coffee and something that smelled distinctly like fear.
Eliza sat at her desk, trying to focus on a restoration timeline for a cathedral in Brooklyn, but the shouting from the main floor made it impossible.
“Who approved these finish schedules? The material specifications are completely wrong for a heritage site! Do you have any idea what that means p>
Wayne, the Design Director, stood in the center of the open-plan office, his face a dangerous shade of purple. He held a large sample board in his fist, shaking it like a weapon.
“If a single inspector checks this, the entire project gets shut down! We’ll be liable for millions in delays and compliance violations! Who signed this?” Wayne roared.
He hurled the board onto the floor. It skidded across the polished concrete and came to a stop at Eliza’s feet.
She looked down. A project code was stamped in the corner: HYDE ESTATE RENOVATION — PHASE 2.
Her stomach dropped. This was Anson’s project.
Near the window, Dave Miller, a quiet junior architect, was shaking — pale and clammy. Eliza knew Dave. He was in the middle of a messy divorce and had filed for bankruptcy last month. He had been distracted, making small errors. But this was catastrophic.
“Well? Who signed off on this?” Wayne demanded, scanning the room.
Dave opened his mouth. Tears were welling in his eyes. He looked like a man standing at the edge of a ledge. If he confessed, he would be fired. With his finances already destroyed, that would break him entirely.
“I did p>
The voice was cool, utterly bored, and cut through the panic like a knife.
Bella Rose stepped forward. Her neon pink hair was a bright beacon in the grey office. She was chewing gum, looking completely unbothered.