Chapter 3: Business, Secrets, and Daisies

The next morning, as soon as I got to the office, Mr. Walker was already waiting at my desk, looking at me like I was a genius.

I’d never seen him this excited.

Unbelievable—the guy who barely shows up all year was here before me.

I checked the clock, half-expecting to see pigs flying outside the window.

But he’s my boss, so I put on a smile. “Mr. Walker, you’re here early.”

I tried to sound chipper, but I was still half-asleep.

He raised an eyebrow. “Not early. I was waiting for you.”

He sounded almost smug, like he knew something I didn’t.

“Huh?”

I blinked, confused. Was I in trouble?

He tossed a file at me. I caught it. “What’s this?”

The folder was thick, stuffed with documents. My heart sank a little.

“The project on the north side of Maple Heights. Savannah, you did great—I knew I picked the right person. Carter Lane is notoriously proud and difficult, but you handled it in one night. Not bad. Let’s go over to Lane Industries now to talk details. Securing their partnership is our top priority.”

His excitement was contagious, but I felt a pang of anxiety. Was I really ready for this?

Mr. Walker was all fired up. I could tell he’d misunderstood. “Mr. Walker, I didn’t actually do anything last night.”

I tried to explain, but he waved me off, already moving on.

He patted my back. “Come on... Lane Industries called right after the gala to say they’re looking forward to meeting us. What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

Before I knew it, I was at Lane Industries’ front door.

The building was sleek, all glass and steel. My nerves kicked into overdrive.

Mr. Walker walked in like he owned the place, and I followed, clutching the file. Damn, I hadn’t even finished reading it in the car.

I flipped through the pages, trying to cram as much info as possible before we got to the elevator.

Mr. Walker strutted into the elevator, then led us down the hall to the office at the very end.

The carpet was thick, muffling our footsteps. I tried to steady my breathing.

I glanced at the doorplate: CEO’s Office.

The letters gleamed in gold. I swallowed hard. No turning back now.

Mr. Walker didn’t even knock—just pushed the door open. He really was used to this place.

I cringed, expecting Carter to glare at us for barging in.

The office was huge, on the top floor, flooded with light.

Floor-to-ceiling windows showed off the skyline. The room smelled faintly of leather and fresh coffee.

Carter sat at the head of the table, several department managers—clearly senior staff—standing in front of him, giving their reports.

They looked nervous, shuffling papers, glancing at Carter for approval.

All in their forties, they seemed to shrink in front of Carter, hunching over nervously.

It was almost funny—grown men acting like kids called to the principal’s office.

He wore gold-rimmed glasses, tapping those annoyingly perfect fingers on the desk.

He looked every bit the part—impeccable suit, sharp jawline, not a hair out of place. CEO vibes, top to bottom.

When he heard the door, Carter looked up at Mr. Walker and me.

His gaze was cool, assessing. I felt like I was under a microscope.

His gaze was deep, and just sitting there he radiated authority.

He didn’t need to say a word—his presence was enough to command the room.

The moment he looked at me, I felt a chill.

Fake it till you make it.

I stiffened, standing up straight, not sure what I’d done wrong.

I clutched the file tighter, hoping I hadn’t already blown it.

Not just me—Mr. Walker stopped in his tracks too. The cold air Carter gave off was impossible to ignore.

He cleared his throat, suddenly less confident.

Mr. Walker swallowed. “What’s going on? Why does Carter look so pissed?”

He whispered, but Carter definitely heard.

I whispered, “Probably because you barged in without knocking. He was still in a meeting—you interrupted him.”

I shot him a look—did he really not see the managers still standing there?

And dragged me down with you!

I rolled my eyes, but kept my mouth shut. No point making it worse.

Mr. Walker was skeptical. “No way, I never knocked before.” Like that made it okay.

He shrugged, as if that explained everything.

“Is that your company’s uniform?” Carter suddenly asked, making both of us jump.

His voice was sharp, cutting through the awkward silence.

Mr. Walker didn’t realize he was talking to him, but I got it instantly and edged behind him.

I tried to disappear, but Carter’s gaze found me anyway.

“Too short. Not respectful to your female employees. I hope your company fixes this immediately.”

His tone brooked no argument. I tugged my skirt down, cheeks burning.

Guess I should’ve trusted my gut.

I made a mental note to burn the thing as soon as I got home.

Mr. Walker looked at me, then at Carter’s sour face. “Got it. I’ll have the factory rush out pants tonight. From now on, all Walker Group uniforms will be pants!”

He tried to sound upbeat, but I could tell he was annoyed.

Because of us, Carter told the managers to pause their reports and led us to the lounge to discuss the partnership.

He didn’t say a word until we were alone. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

As soon as I sat down, Carter threw his jacket over my legs, covering them completely.

The fabric was warm, smelling faintly of his cologne. I blushed, but didn’t protest.

He was definitely not a fan.

He rolled his eyes, but kept quiet.

I didn’t dare say a word. Carter’s cold voice cut in, “Problem?”

His tone was icy. Mr. Walker shook his head, hands up in surrender.

Mr. Walker smiled obsequiously. “No problem. I wouldn’t dare.”

He plastered on his best fake grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Carter was a powerhouse—I saw it firsthand. The deal was basically settled in a few minutes.

He was direct, decisive—no wasted words. I tried to keep up, scribbling notes as fast as I could. My hand was cramping.

Walker Group’s partnership with Lane Industries was a go—as long as I stayed on the project at Lane Industries.

Was he serious?

Back at our office, Mr. Walker called me in and gave me a heavy responsibility. “Savannah, you see now—our company’s future depends on you.”

He looked at me like I was a secret weapon. I felt the weight settle on my shoulders.

I dragged over a chair. “Mind if I join?”

I was exhausted, but tried to look professional.

Mr. Walker nodded. “Of course.”

He gestured for me to sit, lighting a cigarette as he did.

I sat across from him, putting my hands on the table, keeping my tone steady. “Mr. Walker, you and Carter Lane know each other, right?”

I watched his face carefully, looking for any sign he’d been playing me.

He didn’t even blink. “We go way back.”

He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

I looked him in the eye, asking what I’d been wondering. “So sending me to work with Lane Industries was really…”

I trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

He said it like it was the weather report. I was floored. “Exactly what you’re thinking—it was decided long ago. Savannah, we’re all adults, no need to beat around the bush. Carter’s been stuck on you for years—finally made a move, so don’t back out now.”

His bluntness threw me off. “We’re not right for each other.”

I tried to protest, but he just laughed.

Seriously, Carter’s been so hung up on you, people started wondering if he was even into women.

He grinned, as if he found the whole thing hilarious.

“We’re adults—what’s there to be scared of? If it doesn’t work out, break up. Life’s short—don’t regret missing out.”

He sounded almost wistful, like he was speaking from experience.

His words left me silent. Mr. Walker sighed, scratching his head. “You two are impossible.”

He flicked ash into a tray, shaking his head.

He reached for his cigarettes, paused, and asked, “Mind if I smoke?”

I waved my hand. “Go ahead.”

I didn’t mind. The smoke was oddly comforting.

He lit up. “After your SATs, someone started paying your dad’s medical bills. He’s still bedridden, and the money always arrives on time. Savannah, you’re smart—you must know that was Carter.”

My jaw dropped. I’d never even considered it.

“What?” My eyes went wide. “No way—after all these years, I didn’t know.”

I racked my brain, trying to remember any hint, any clue.

“I checked—the sender’s last name wasn’t Lane.”

He raised his eyebrows, as if daring me to argue.

Mr. Walker gave me a thumbs-up. “Carter always said you were smart, that you’d figure it out. Guess he was wrong.”

I felt a pang of guilt. How could I have missed something so important?

I was still confused. “But why a different last name?”

I frowned, trying to piece it together.

Mr. Walker sighed. “It was his mom’s maiden name. Not your fault—he just had to be sneaky, like his own name was some kind of secret.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

I lowered my head, voice muffled. “But I never told him—how did he know about my family?”

I felt exposed, vulnerable.

Mr. Walker flicked his ash. “Someone who loves you can’t help but find out what’s behind your tough act.

He gave me that dad look.

“I’m not telling you this so you’ll accept Carter out of gratitude. I just want you to know you’re worth it—there really is someone in this world who loves you that much.”

His words made my heart tremble. I needed a minute to breathe. To keep it together, I stood up and put my chair back. “Thanks, Mr. Walker. I’ve got something to do.”

He nodded. “Alright. Remember to report to Lane Industries tomorrow. Whether you like him or not, our company’s future is in your hands.”

He smiled, but I could tell he meant every word.

“Okay.”

I tried to sound confident, but my mind was spinning.

I was winging it, big time.

I stared at my blank notebook, feeling completely out of my depth.

So Carter basically taught me everything himself, just like he used to tutor me in high school.

He was patient, breaking down every detail until I understood. He made it look easy. I couldn’t help but feel grateful.

And this is Carter—the guy who’s cold to the point of being heartless, who’s stricter with himself than anyone. Yet he had endless patience for me, an outsider.

Sometimes I’d catch him watching me, a hint of a smile on his lips. It made my heart race.

Lane Industries’ employees were shocked. I, an outsider, could get along with their boss without getting yelled at!

I overheard whispers in the break room—people speculating about who I was, why Carter was so nice to me.

One time I bumped my elbow—you’d think I’d broken my arm.

He rushed over, checking my elbow, his face pale. I’d never seen him so rattled.

The next day, all the desks in the office were replaced with rounded corners.

The rumor mill went wild. People joked that I had superpowers.

During meetings, when my plans were terrible and others wanted to criticize, Carter, sitting at the head, would say, “There’s progress here. Good.”

If Carter believed in me, maybe I could believe in myself.

My eyes lit up. “Really? I actually felt like this plan was better than last time!”

I grinned, feeling a rush of pride.

Was he blushing?

He coughed, looking away. I tried not to laugh.

Everyone else shut their mouths.

No one dared contradict him. It was almost funny.

It was hard to believe, but a month later, Carter actually used my rookie plan for the bid.

I stared at the email in disbelief. He’d really done it.

And it worked!

The whole office erupted in cheers. I got high-fives from people I barely knew.

My palms were sweating with nerves, but Carter had absolute confidence in me.

That smile could fix anything.

Thank goodness it turned out well. But I had to admit—Carter was bold.

He never played it safe, and somehow it always paid off.

At the celebration dinner, Carter took me to a private room.

The lights were low, the table set for two. My heart raced with anticipation.

Mr. Walker showed up, bringing a beautiful, elegant woman with him—she seemed oddly familiar.

Déjà vu, big time.

My radar went off.

I kept my guard up, watching every move.

She sat next to Carter, and he glanced at me but didn’t object.

I felt a pang of jealousy, but tried to hide it.

She kept glancing at him, smiling, sometimes leaning her head on her hand. I stared, and Carter avoided my eyes, just eating.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. I tried to focus on my food, but I could barely swallow.

She slid a keycard over. “Don’t forget, Carter.”

The card gleamed under the table lamp. My stomach twisted.

Mr. Walker said nothing, just watched like he was enjoying the show.

He looked like he was about to start taking bets.

Finally, I couldn’t take it.

I set down my fork, ready to make a scene if I had to. No way was I letting this slide.

Carter looked up at me. I smirked, leaned back, and finished my wine.

I met his gaze, daring him to look away.

I stood, flipped my hair, and took the keycard from the woman, smiling flirtatiously. “Sorry, he’s already got plans tonight.”

I gave her my best don’t-mess-with-me smile.

Then, naturally, I took Carter’s hand.

His hand was warm, steady. He squeezed my fingers, a smile tugging at his lips.

Carter looked completely stunned, his long lashes casting shadows over his eyes, but he let me hold his hand.

For a second, he looked like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

The woman just smiled, amused. Suddenly, Mr. Walker laughed. “Alright, Madison, let’s be considerate and give these two stubborn people some space.”

He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes, but stood up.

The woman smiled apologetically at me. “Sorry, Savannah. Carter gave me too much—otherwise, I wouldn’t have played along. Take it from someone with experience—if you like him, go for it! We’ll leave you two to talk.”

She gave me a friendly nod, and I felt my guard drop just a little. Maybe she wasn’t so bad.

I stared at her back, and finally realized where I’d seen her—she was in a magazine! An internationally renowned jewelry designer, the youngest representative of the Sterling family, rumored to be dating the CEO.

I knew I’d seen her somewhere.

So they knew each other. Alone with Carter, my buzz faded fast.

I felt exposed, suddenly shy. Carter watched me, his eyes soft.

Carter was so gentle, staring at our joined hands, trying not to smile.

He looked like he was about to burst with happiness.

I tried to pull away, but he gripped tighter.

Guess I wasn’t getting away that easy.

I whispered, “Carter, I’m a little tipsy.”

My cheeks burned. He leaned closer.

My heart skipped a beat. “I’m not as great as you think…”

I tried to protest, but he shook his head.

Carter looked at me with the same focus as when he confessed in our last year of high school. “Don’t be so eager to tear yourself down. To me, you’re wonderful. At least in my lonely world, you were the first person to come in and take a look.”

His words hit me right in the chest.

“Savannah, I’m stubborn—once I decide, I can’t let go.” His voice was so low. “Honestly, do you want me to get closer?”

He waited, holding his breath.

I tried to hold back, but finally my voice trembled. “I do.”

The relief on his face was instant. He looked like he might cry.

Carter’s eyes turned red even faster than mine, looking so wounded. “You scared me. I thought you were still going to be stubborn.”

He laughed, wiping at his eyes. I laughed too, feeling lighter than I had in years. It felt good to let go.

I started dating Carter Lane.

It was awkward at first—after all, how do you date the guy who runs half the city? But Carter made it easy.

I knew this was coming.

He looked at me expectantly, a little nervous.

I gave him a guilty look—I hadn’t changed it.

I shrugged, sheepish. He raised an eyebrow.

He took my phone, scowling, and saw it said: “Lane Industries CEO: Big Boss Carter.”

He made a face, then started typing.

I nearly spit out my drink.

I laughed. “So, our Mr. Lane wants me to call him Bear?”

He blushed, ears turning pink.

Carter avoided my eyes, ears bright red, still stubborn. “No, it just sounds more intimate.”

He muttered, but I could tell he liked it.

“Oh, really?” I stared at him, then leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Bear, you’re so good.”

His breath hitched. He looked like he was about to combust.

Carter cursed under his breath. “Damn.”

He buried his head in my neck. “Say it again, please.”

His voice was desperate, needy. I couldn’t resist.

He melted.

He hugged me tighter, as if he never wanted to let go.

Carter hugged me tighter, whispering, “Mm.”

His breath was warm against my skin. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment.

I remember when Walker Group first partnered with Lane Industries, I got a friend request from Carter on Facebook Messenger.

I stared at the notification for a full minute before accepting.

The first message he sent was just two words: "Nickname?"

I laughed, typing back a quick reply.

I agonized over it and replied: 'Walker Group’s Savannah.'

I cringed after I hit send. Not exactly romantic.

Carter was silent for a long time, then sent a voice message. I played it—it was him, gritting his teeth: “Savannah Reed, you’re going to be the death of me.”

His voice was rough, but I could hear the affection underneath.

I didn’t get why he was so mad until we got together.

Looking back, it all makes sense now.

I once asked Carter what he had me saved as. He showed me—it was the same as in high school. I wasn’t expecting that.

He handed me his phone, looking a little embarrassed.

I looked. It wasn’t “baby” or “sweetie,” but: “Daisy.”

My heart skipped a beat. I’d almost forgotten about that.

I didn’t understand why. I asked, but Carter wouldn’t tell me.

He just smiled, shaking his head.

A month later, Lane Industries launched a new perfume.

The whole city buzzed about it—billboards, commercials, the works.

A reporter piped up, “Why Daisy, Mr. Lane? Something special?”

I sat in the audience, nerves jangling. I had no idea what he’d say.

I held my breath, waiting for his answer.

Carter smiled. The reporters snapped away—he was famous for never smiling!

The whole room seemed to lean forward. It was a rare sight.

But his usually cold eyes were gentle. His deep voice echoed through the hall: “Daisies are a symbol of loyal love. I think it’s a beautiful way to save someone you like in your contacts.”

His words hung in the air, soft and true. I felt tears prick my eyes.

Everyone else faded away.

In that moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

By chance, we once again passed the entrance to that alley—the place where my story with Carter began.

The street looked smaller now, less intimidating. But the memories were just as vivid.

Back then, I marched in alone, and Carter showed up, book in hand—total movie moment.

He’d looked so nonchalant, but I knew he was worried.

That was the moment two parallel lines crossed.

Everything changed after that. We were never just classmates again.

No matter how tough you act, your heart always gives you away.

I remember lying awake at night, replaying every word, every look.

It was subtle, shy—a secret just for me.

I never told anyone, not even my best friend. It was too precious to share.

I hoped he’d get it.

I’d left them on his desk, hoping he’d understand. He never said a word, but he kept them.

It was a secret, but it was real.

The kind that makes your chest ache, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Now, as I write this, I wonder what words could capture what you were at eighteen.

No matter how hard I try, nothing seems big enough, bright enough, wild enough.

No matter how many years pass, I’ll always miss that stubborn, glorious time.

It’s the kind of nostalgia that sneaks up on you in quiet moments, when you least expect it.

That summer was a blur—finals, bonfires, sunsets over the bleachers.

I can still smell the grass after rain, hear the distant cheers from the baseball field, feel the sun on my face.

Eighteen—no matter how many times you tell it, it’s the most moving story, because it’s so passionate, so wild.

We loved recklessly, dreamed big, made mistakes, and never looked back. That’s the magic of being young.

At that age, we didn’t need to explain our darker sides. That desperate, imperfect youth was dazzling.

We wore our scars like badges, proud of every misstep.

We drank, we fell in love, we sang like nobody was listening.

We were invincible, or at least we believed we were.

No one can beat you at your peak—not even yourself. Because the young, shining you never loses. Don’t be afraid; live boldly.

So don’t forget—you’re the star of your own story. That wild confidence? Hold onto it.

Hold onto it, even as the years go by. That’s what makes life beautiful.

I hope you feel it too!

And if you ever wonder if you mattered—remember the daisies. Remember the love. You were unforgettable. You still are.

The End.