[POV Daphne]
By Friday afternoon, I felt like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point.
The week had been relentless. Overtime every night, mountains of paperwork, meetings that ran long and left me scrambling to pick up the girls before daycare closed.
But it wasn't the workload that had me unraveling—it was Xander.
Ever since he'd met the twins, his behavior had shifted in ways I couldn't decipher. Some days he was unusually gentle, asking if I needed anything, offering small kindnesses that caught me off guard.
A coffee appearing on my desk. Permission to leave early when Lisa had a doctor's appointment. A softness in his voice when he said my name.
Other days he was abruptly distant. Cold and demanding, retreating behind that impenetrable wall of professionalism like I was just another employee, just another cog in his machine.
Those days were almost easier. At least I knew where I stood.
But always, always, he was watching me.
His eyes following my movements across the office. His gaze lingering a moment too long when I handed him documents. As if he was trying to solve a puzzle I never meant him to see.
And today was unbearable.
The unexpected overtime request at seven in the morning. The crushing workload that left no time for lunch.
The sharp tone he'd used during the quarterly meeting: "This isn't good enough, Daphne, I expected better" that made me flinch in front of the entire department.
The way he and Archie had circled each other like territorial wolves all afternoon, trading barbs that left the conference room thick with tension.
Every small thing had left my nerves raw and trembling.
I couldn't stop thinking about the day I'd spilled water. It had stirred something dangerous inside me. Made me wonder, for the first time, if maybe I should tell him the truth.
If the man who looked at me like that, who still wanted me after everything, deserved to know about Nina and Lisa. If keeping this secret was really protecting my daughters, or just protecting myself from a conversation I was too afraid to have.
But then I remembered the fake name. The dead phone number. The way he'd vanished without a word, leaving me pregnant and alone with no way to find him.
And the doubt crept back in.
I couldn't keep pretending everything was fine. Not when his eyes lingered on me like he was searching for answers I refused to give. Not when my own resolve was crumbling more with each passing day.
During my break, I escaped into an empty conference room on the fourteenth floor, pushing the door shut behind me. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and called Charlotte—the only person in the world who knew the truth.
She answered on the second ring, her voice carrying that steady warmth I desperately needed. "Hey, you. Rough day?"
"That's one way to put it." I sank into a chair, pressing my free hand against my forehead. "It's getting harder, Char. Every day he looks at me like I'm hiding something. And I am… God, I am."
"What happened this time?"
"It's everything." My voice came out tight, strained. "He keeps noticing things. Asking about the girls—how they're doing, if they're feeling better, what their favorite things are. Like he actually cares. And the way he looks at me..."
"The way he looks at you… how?"
"Like he's trying to see inside me. Like he knows I'm lying and he's just waiting for me to crack." My breath shook. "He's getting closer to the truth, Charlotte. I can feel it. And I'm scared."
She was silent for a beat. "You always knew this couldn't stay buried forever, Daph. Secrets like this—they have a way of coming out."
"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could just... keep my head down, do my job, keep the girls separate from all of this." I laughed bitterly. "But then Lisa got sick and I brought them to the office and he saw them and now everything is falling apart."
"Have you thought about what you'll do when he finds out? Because it's when, honey. Not if."
"I don't know…" I closed my eyes.
The memory of yesterday flooding back—his hand hovering near my shoulder, his eyes dark and wanting.
"Sometimes I think maybe I should just tell him… Maybe he deserves to know. Maybe I'm being selfish, keeping this from him when he looks at me like... that."
"Like what?"
"Like he still wants me. Like five years didn't change anything." I swallowed hard. "But then I remember he lied to me first. He didn't want me to find him. Why should I give him the truth when he never gave me the same?"
"That's something only you can decide, Daph. I can't tell you what's right here."
"I know. I just..." I pressed my palm harder against my forehead, willing the headache building behind my eyes to ease. "I have to think about the girls. If I tell him and he reacts badly, if he tries to take them from me, or disrupts their lives… I'll never forgive myself."
"Do you really think he'd do that?"
"I don't know what he'd do. That's the problem. I thought I knew him, that night at the bar. I thought he was kind, real and honest. But he wasn't. He was wearing a mask the whole time."
My voice cracked. "How can I trust him with the truth about my daughters when I don't even know who he really is?"
"Only you can answer that."
"I can't just tell Xander that…"
I stopped breathing. A shadow moved in the doorway.
The conference room door, which I'd closed but apparently never latched, stood open by an inch. And Xander was just outside it, still as stone.
His expression was unreadable. But his eyes—his eyes were full of something sharp and devastating. Something that made my blood turn to ice.
He'd heard me.
I didn't know how much, but he'd heard enough.
He stepped inside slowly, quietly, like a predator cornering its prey. The door clicked shut behind him with a soft, final sound.
"Tell me what, Daphne?"
His voice was low. Controlled. But barely. I could hear the strain beneath the calm, the volcanic pressure of something fighting to break free.
The phone slipped from my fingers, clattering against the table. Charlotte's voice called out faintly from the speaker: "Daphne? Daph, what's happening?"
But I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't do anything but stare at Xander as five years of carefully constructed lies began to crumble around me.