[POV Daphne]
I didn't tell Xander where I was going when I left the house that morning.
I wasn't hiding—I'd left a note on the kitchen counter saying I had errands to run, that I'd be back before lunch. But I wasn't asking permission either.
After everything that had happened, after all the secrets and revelations and painful conversations, I needed to do something for myself. I needed answers that didn't come filtered through Xander's guilt or his carefully constructed explanations.
Archie was the only person left who might know something Xander wouldn't say. The realization alone made me uneasy, but it was that unease that told me I was on the right track.
I texted him from the lobby of our building, my fingers hesitating over the keys before I finally pressed send. "Can we meet? I need to talk to you about something. It's important."
His response came within minutes, but his tone shifted immediately from what I remembered. No joke, no flirtatious quip, no playful emoji, just: "Where and when?"
Less playful and more cautious. Like he already knew what I was going to ask.
We met at a coffee shop on the other side of the city, far enough from our usual haunts that we were unlikely to be recognized. Archie was already there when I arrived, seated at a corner table with a clear view of the door.
"Daphne," He pulled out a chair for me. "You look tired."
"I am," I sat down, wrapping my hands around the coffee he'd already ordered for me—he remembered how I took it, which felt strange and familiar all at once. "Thank you for meeting me on such short notice."
"You said it was important. I figured that meant it actually was," he settled back into his seat, watching me with those hazel eyes that had once seemed so warm and open. Now they held something more complicated. "What's going on?"
I didn't circle the topic. There wasn't time for that, and I'd run out of patience for careful conversations that never arrived at their point.
"I need to know what you know about Xander's past," I said directly. "The things he won't tell me, those that happened before we met."
Archie's coffee cup paused halfway to his lips. He set it down slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving my face.
"That's a broad question."
"Then let me narrow it. I know about Marcus Chen, the accident, the anonymous letter, and the blackmail. What I don't know is whether there's more—whether there are other things that might come back to hurt my family."
"Xander told you about Marcus?" Archie's eyebrows rose. "That's more than I expected from him."
"He didn't have much choice. Bianca made sure of that."
"Ah," he nodded slowly, understanding dawning. "The kidnapping. I heard about it—everyone in our circles did. I'm glad Lisa is safe."
"So am I, but being glad isn't enough anymore. I need to know if there are other threats out there that I don't see coming."
Archie was quiet for a long moment, clearly weighing something internally. I watched the conflict play across his features—loyalty warring with honesty, old alliances struggling against new circumstances.
"Why are you asking me?" he said finally. "Why not just ask Xander?"
"I have asked him multiple times. And each time, I get part of the truth. The part he thinks I can handle, he's already processed, the part that makes him look like a victim rather than a participant," I leaned forward, my voice dropping. "I love my husband, Archie, but I'm done being protected from information that affects my children. If you know something, I need you to tell me."
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his jaw with one hand. The gesture was so familiar—I'd seen Xander do the same thing when he was wrestling with something difficult.
"I don't know anything for certain," he began carefully. "I want you to understand that. What I have are rumors—whispers that circulated years ago, before Xander became untouchable. Nothing I could prove, nothing that would hold up to scrutiny."
"Tell me anyway."
"There were stories about serious conflicts in the early days. Before Xander built his empire and became the man everyone either fears or admires." Archie's voice dropped lower. "Conflicts that got resolved in ways that made people uncomfortable. Partners who walked away from lucrative deals without explanation. Competitors who suddenly lost funding or faced unexpected legal troubles."
"That sounds like business as usual for someone at his level."
"It does, except for one name that kept coming up," Archie met my eyes, and I saw genuine reluctance there. "Gerald Morrison."
Morrison… The man who had put his hand on my thigh at that business lunch? The man Xander had punched in my defense?
"Gerald," I repeated slowly. "What about him?"
"The rumors were that Gerald and Xander had history going back further than anyone realized. That their animosity wasn't just professional rivalry—it was personal. Something happened between them, something early on, and it never healed."
"Any hints?"
"That's where the whispers got vague," Archie shrugged helplessly. "Some people said it was about money—a deal gone wrong, an investment that cost someone everything. Others said it was about a woman. A few mentioned Marcus Chen's name, said Gerald was somehow connected to what happened, but no one could ever explain how."
My mind raced, trying to connect the pieces. Gerald Morrison, who had tormented me at that lunch and whose name kept appearing in the shadows of Xander's past like a persistent ghost.
"You think Gerald was involved in Marcus Chen's death?"
"Xander has never fully explained anything to anyone," Archie's voice was careful, measured. "I think there's a reason their hatred runs so deep, beyond business competition or wounded pride. But I never had proof—only whispers that ended abruptly whenever I tried to trace them back to their source."
"What do you mean?"
"People stopped talking. Doors closed, and sources who had been willing to speculate suddenly couldn't remember anything at all," he spread his hands. "I stopped asking eventually. It seemed healthier."
I sat back in my chair, processing everything he'd told me. The coffee in my hands had gone cold.
Gerald Morrison. The name linked business grudges to personal danger, connected the harassment I'd experienced to the conspiracy that had nearly destroyed us. And somewhere in that connection was a truth that Xander still hadn't shared—a truth that might explain why Bianca had known exactly which pressure points to target.
"Thank you for the information," I said finally.
"I'm not sure I've helped," Archie's expression was troubled. "Daphne, whatever happened between Xander and Gerald, there's a reason it's stayed buried for so long. Some secrets stay hidden because people want to protect themselves. Others stay because revealing them would destroy more than they'd save."
"I understand."
He reached across the table, his hand hovering near mine without quite touching. "You've already been through so much, and your family has been through so much. Is this really a door you want to open?"
I stood, gathering my coat and bag. "It's already been opened, Archie. I'm just trying to see what's on the other side before it closes on me."
He didn't try to stop me as I left. I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked out into the cold morning air, the weight of everything he'd told me settling into my bones.
I'd asked for answers, and I'd gotten them—partial, incomplete, troubling answers that raised more questions than they resolved. Gerald Morrison, Marcus Chen, Xander. The threads connecting them stretched back years, tangled in ways I was only beginning to understand.