Inkjet

Five Years in the Dark He Called Me "Niece"

Nine

For five years, Daisy lived in the shadows. After her father’s death, her guardian Julian became her everything—her protector, her secret lover, the man she believed would one day choose her openly. She gave up her career, her dreams, and her dignity, waiting for a future he always promised but never delivered. Then she overheard him at a party: she wasn’t his love. She was his responsibility. The girl he’d soon marry off to someone else. While he whispered sweet lies to her, he was building a life with another woman—drugging Daisy’s nightly milk so he could sneak his mistress into their bed. The night she found the photos, the videos, and the truth, something inside Daisy shattered. But instead of breaking, she began to rebuild. She accepted a marriage proposal from Caleb—a childhood friend who had loved her openly for years—and walked away without looking back. Now Julian watches from the sidelines as Daisy becomes someone else’s wife, someone else’s world. And for the first time, he realizes what he lost: not a niece, not an obligation, but the only woman who ever truly loved him.

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Chapter 1

The rain was falling hard when I landed in New York, but nothing could stop me from getting to him.

I should have been in Chicago for two more days. The project wasn't finished. But for his birthday, I'd pulled two all-nighters, delivered early, and caught the first flight out.

My phone buzzed as I collected my luggage.

"Work always comes first," Julian's voice purred through the speaker, mock-hurt. "You love your job more than me."

I hid my smile behind my hand. "Miss me already?"

"I'm at the club. The private room. Get here soon or I'll die of loneliness."

Little did he know—I was already through security, already in a cab fighting through midtown traffic. Five hours of flying, running on caffeine and adrenaline, just to see his face when I walked through that door.

The Corinthian Club. Julian's permanent reservation. I knew the address by heart.

I paid the driver and hurried inside, my gift for him—a vintage Rolex—clutched in my bag. My heels clicked against marble as I reached the private lounge. I reached for the handle.

My heel caught on a loose edge of carpet.

I stumbled. Fell hard on one knee.

And the bracelet on my wrist—sandalwood beads Julian had brought back from Bali, blessed by some monk he swore by—snapped. Scattered across the floor like dried bones.

My chest tightened. That bracelet was everything. He'd tied it on my wrist himself, promised it would keep me safe.

I knelt to gather the beads, and that's when I heard his voice through the door.

"I've never been like you guys," Julian said. Clear as day. "When I commit, I commit. One woman. Always."

My heart swelled. I pressed my palm against the scattered beads, smiling despite the pain in my knee.

"Just one regret," he continued, and something in his tone shifted. Cooled. "I wish I'd met her sooner. The real one."

My fingers closed around a bead so hard it left marks.

"Julian." A woman's voice. Soft. Intimate. "Am I the real one?"

The men inside laughed. "What about your little houseguest? The one who shares your bed? Daddy's best friend and all that—surely she's your 'one woman'?"

"Come on," Julian said, and I could hear the eye-roll in his voice. "Daisy was barely out of college when she moved in. I had to take responsibility. That's all."

"So it's real? You and this mystery woman?"

"Nothing's more real than Evelyn." His voice dropped to that whisper I knew too well. The one he used in bed. "Daisy's... family. Nothing more. When she's old enough, I'll find her a husband. Settle her down properly."

A pause. Then: "Evelyn, I love you. Only you."

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

Five years. Five years of sneaking through hallways, of whispered promises, of waiting for him to be ready. Five years of being his "secret" while he told everyone I was just the girl his dead best friend had left behind.

Just family.

Just responsibility.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. My phone buzzed—my friend Sarah checking in—and the sound snapped me out of my trance. I grabbed the scattered beads, shoved them in my pocket, and ran.

Not home. I couldn't go home. Not to the penthouse we shared, where he'd touch me at midnight and deny me by morning.

I went to his office instead. Used my key—the one he'd given me for "emergencies"—and found his backup phone in the locked drawer. The one he said was for "business only."

I tried Evelyn's birthday. First attempt. The screen unlocked.

Her face greeted me. Red lips, bedroom eyes, posed on his bedsheets. My bedsheets.

Thousands of photos. Trips to Paris, to Tokyo, to that beach house in Malibu I'd begged him to take me to. The Disney trip I'd planned for our anniversary—he'd taken her instead. Wearing a dress that cost more than my car, while he bought me costume jewelry from mall kiosks.

And the messages. God, the messages.

She's like a dead fish compared to you. So obedient. So boring.

Tonight at 10. The usual. Milk's already prepared.

The milk. Every night for two years, he'd brought me warm milk before bed. "To help you sleep, sweetheart." I'd thought it was tenderness. Care.

It was drugs. Sedatives. So he could sneak downstairs and fuck his mistress in our living room while I lay unconscious upstairs.

My tears blurred the screen. My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped the phone.

Julian Ashford. My guardian. My lover. My everything.

How dare he?

I pulled out my own phone. Dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

"Dad?" My voice was steady. Strange. "I'll take the deal. The marriage. Whatever you want."

Silence on the line. Then: "Daisy? Baby, it's three in the morning. Are you okay?"

"Never better. Just send the jet. I'll be ready in a week."

I hung up before I could break down. Before I could take it back.

Julian thought I was just a responsibility? Fine. Let him watch me become someone else's wife.

Let him choke on it.