Chapter 9: THE OTHER ME IS PISSING ME OFF

DANIEL'S POV

I drive toward Marcus’s place as the evening sky darkens. The streetlights flicker on, casting a dim glow over the empty road. The hum of my engine is the only sound in the quiet night, but my mind is anything but calm.

I wasn’t supposed to pick him up. We had agreed to meet at his house later, after our discussion at his store this morning . But at the last minute, I changed my mind.

Because something is off.

There’s a feeling deep in my gut, one I can’t shake. It’s not just paranoia— it’s more than that. It’s like a shadow lurking at the edge of my vision, something I can sense but not yet see.

Someone is living my life in secret.

And tonight, I intend to find out who.

Before leaving, I give strict orders to my men. “Close the store for Marcus. No excuses. No delays. Lock everything down.”

I don’t want Marcus to worry about it— I’ll take care of everything. Right now, all I want is to be alone with him.

As we drive, the unease in my chest grows. I watched as my driver drove. I wish he would move more after.

Something isn’t right.

But I can’t explain it.

It’s just there, hovering over me like a dark cloud, a warning I can’t ignore.

By the time we step into the compound, the feeling has only gotten stronger. It presses against my skin, an invisible weight settling over me.

I glance around, my eyes scanning the area. I search for anything— any small sign that might explain this feeling. But there’s nothing out of place.

I push the thought aside. Maybe I’m just overthinking. Maybe it’s exhaustion.

Marcus unlocks the door and steps inside.

Then, he stops.

His whole body goes still, his hand frozen on the doorknob.

I follow his gaze, and the moment I see it, my pulse slows.

Flowers. Beautiful, fresh flowers.

They are everywhere. Arranged neatly, perfectly. The entire room is spotless. The air smells different— clean, almost sweet.

And on the dining table, there is a bottle of wine.

I don’t react.

But my mind starts working fast.

This is not Marcus’s doing.

And it sure as hell isn’t mine.

Marcus turns to me, his expression soft, almost touched. His eyes hold something unfamiliar— an emotion I can’t place.

"You did this for me?" he asks, his voice quiet. His fingers brush against mine, seeking an answer.

I don’t respond.

Because I don’t know what’s going on.

The room is too perfect. The details are too precise.

I walk toward the table, my eyes narrowing as I touch the plate.

The food is still warm.

Whoever did this was here just minutes ago.

Which means—

He is still close.

I take a slow, controlled breath and sit down, keeping my face neutral. My brain is screaming at me to figure this out, to put the pieces together before it’s too late.

Where is he?

I scan the room again, pretending to admire the setup. Then, without a word, I get up and start checking every room.

Marcus calls after me, confused. "What’s wrong?"

I don’t answer.

I push open one door. Empty.

Another. Nothing.

Then, I find it.

A window.

Wide open.

A slow exhale leaves my lips.

He escaped.

I almost call my men, almost order them to search the area.

But I don’t.

Not yet.

I need to be smart. I need to play along.

Because if he is bold enough to enter my space, to touch my life so intimately—

Then he must believe he is untouchable.

And that is his first mistake.

The Other Me

Marcus is still glowing with happiness when I return to the dining table.

He still believes I did all this.

The thought makes my stomach twist.

As we eat, I notice something else.

The way the table is set.

It’s exactly how I would have done it.

The plates. The wine glass. Even the damn napkins.

Every small detail matches my habits.

I grip my fork tighter.

Who the fuck is this person?

The more I think about it, the more unsettled I feel.

Whoever he is, he knows everything about me.

But I know nothing about him.

And that makes him dangerous.

After dinner, Marcus leans closer, his voice softer, his expression filled with something hopeful.

"Will you stay over tonight?" he asks, his fingers brushing against mine.

I shake my head. "No. I have things to take care of."

His expression shifts.

Disappointment.

I don’t like it.

So, I step closer, take his face in my hands, and press a kiss to his lips.

"I’m sorry," I whisper.

Then, I turn and leave.

I need to get back.

I need answers.

....

The moment I step into my mansion, I feel it.

Something is wrong.

My men stand around, their postures tense. Their expressions are unreadable.

I glance at Scott. He is watching me too closely.

His gaze is sharp, cautious.

"We weren’t expecting you back so early," he says, his voice carefully neutral.

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Scott hesitates. Then, finally, he speaks.

"You just left with some men to sell the coke we hijacked from the police yesterday."

Everything inside me freezes.

My grip tightens around the glass of wine in my hand.

Breathe.

Don’t react.

If I react now, they’ll know something is wrong.

I swallow slowly, forcing my muscles to relax, then smirk. "Is that so?"

Scott nods, still watching me, still unsure.

Inside, I’m burning.

The bastard crossed another line.

It was one thing to touch my personal life.

It was another to step into my home.

But now—

Now, he’s stealing from me.

And the worst part?

He did it so perfectly that even my own men couldn’t tell the difference.

Whoever he is, he is no ordinary man.

And that means someone is backing him.

I sip my wine, forcing my pulse to slow.

There’s only one person I know who could be behind this.

Gideon.

That son of a bitch.

He’s trying to challenge me.

And not just with men, not just with power—

But with something beyond that.

Something supernatural.

That explains everything.

If he thinks he can play this game, he’s dead wrong.

I set my glass down and turn to Scott.

"Tell all men to gather here tomorrow."

Scott’s expression sharpens. "Any problem sir?"

I don’t hesitate.

"Gideon is dying tomorrow."

And nothing is stopping it.