Chapter 127: You don’t get to die Anna The atmosphere inside the vanity room felt heavy — almost suffocating.
Anna sat stiffly in her chair, her damp hair clinging to her cheeks, while her sharp eyes practically sliced through Henry, who stood awkwardly near the door, pretending to scroll through his phone.
If looks could kill, he was sure he’d already be six feet under.
’Why do I feel like I’m being punished for doing my job?’ he thought helplessly, sneaking a glance at her — only to freeze when her glare met his.
Ouch. That hurts, he groaned inwardly. I was just helping the boss before he made things worse out there...
Still, the chills didn’t stop.
God, she’s scarier than Daniel, he thought as the doctor packed up his kit, clearing his throat.
"Everything seems fine," the doctor said, snapping off his gloves. "She was rescued right on time. There’s no sign of water inhalation, so she doesn’t need further treatment."
Daniel, who had been standing off to the side with his arms crossed, didn’t look convinced. The image of Anna slipping beneath the water still haunted him — her body going limp, the world narrowing to the sound of his own heartbeat until he’d reached her.
"Are you sure we shouldn’t take her to the hospital? Maybe put her on an IV—"
"Mr. Clafford," Anna cut in quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, "the doctor just said I’m fine."
She stood, brushing off her damp clothes as though that could erase what had just happened. "In fact, I feel more energetic than before. I could go in for another lap."
She flapped her arms playfully, pretending to warm up, though both men knew she couldn’t swim to save her life.
Daniel frowned, masking his scowl behind his usual controlled expression.
"If that’s what you say, Doctor," he said finally, voice clipped. Then, glancing toward Henry, he added, "Please escort the doctor out."
The doctor nodded, clearly relieved to leave the tension-filled room, and followed Henry out. The door clicked shut, leaving only silence behind.
. The moment the lock turned, Anna dropped her act. Her smile vanished, replaced by frustration.
"What were you thinking, Daniel?" she snapped. "You carried me here — in front of everyone! Do you even realize how that looked? What people must be saying right now?"
She crossed her arms, her tone sharp though her voice trembled slightly. "You made it look like—like I’m—"
"Your husband just saved your life," Daniel cut in smoothly, his tone dangerously calm, his eyes glinting. "That’s what it looked like."
Anna blinked, taken aback. His composure made her chest tighten. She couldn’t tell if he was angry, sarcastic... or both.
"Now tell me," he said, his voice dropping lower, firmer, "why would you risk your life by going against Wilsmith’s instructions?"
Anna froze. His question wasn’t an accusation — it was raw, frustrated concern.
Daniel had been holding himself back since the moment he pulled her from the water. If only she knew what that minute had done to him — how he’d felt the world crumble when she stopped moving.
But Anna stayed quiet, her mind spiraling.
She still didn’t know why he’d done it — why Daniel Clafford, the man who prided himself on logic, had rushed to save her without hesitation, risking his image in front of hundreds. And those words — It’s okay, Anna. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.
They echoed like a haunting melody she couldn’t shut off.
The way he held her close, his heartbeat pounding against her ear — it wasn’t duty. It was fear.
Fear of losing her.
"I-I wanted to give my best," she whispered finally, though even she wasn’t sure whom she was trying to convince.
Daniel’s expression darkened. "And what if you had drowned, Anna? Would your ’best’ still matter then?"
His tone wasn’t loud, but each word carried the weight of panic barely restrained.
Anna bit her lip, her shoulders trembling. She knew he was right. It had been reckless. But before her guilt could fully form, her pride spoke louder.
"I just... wanted it to look real," she said quietly.
Daniel exhaled sharply, and before she could move, his hand was already at her nape, his fingers firm, his eyes burning into hers.
Her breath caught.
"Daniel—"
"Listen to me," he said, voice low, unsteady but commanding. "I don’t know what got into you earlier, but if you ever risk your life like that again, I won’t stay this calm."
Anna’s lips parted, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
"I mean it," he continued, his breath brushing against her lips, their noses almost touching. "You have no idea what went through my head when you stopped moving under that water."
Her chest rose sharply. ’You were... scared.’ she wanted to ask it out loud but couldn’t
Daniel’s eyes never let her speak. His jaw tightened, she knew she had messed it really bad.
"You don’t get to die, Anna. Not when you’re still my wife."
The air between them grew heavy, charged. Neither spoke, neither looked away — trapped between fury, fear, and something far more dangerous.
"Because if you do, then I will take you then and there. And trust me Anna I would do it"
Anna couldn’t breath, she felt it struck as the tension between them turned palipable until a knock interrupted them.
"Anna, can I come in?"
Fiona’s voice broke through the silence like a slap of reality.
Anna stepped back instantly, her pulse racing. Daniel exhaled slowly, his eyes still fixed on her.
"I hope my words are clear... wifey," he murmured, the last word deliberate, teasing, and sharp.
Her eyes widened, and before she could respond, he leaned down, his lips brushing the top of her damp hair a fleeting kiss, but enough to leave her stunned.
Then, without another word, he straightened and walked to the door.
Outside, Fiona froze mid-motion, her hand halfway raised to knock again. Her eyes widened when the door swung open — and Daniel stepped out.
"Mr. Clafford..." Fiona began, forcing a polite smile as she straightened her posture. But Daniel’s gaze — cold, sharp, and unreadable — swept over her once before he brushed past without a word.
Panic flickered across her face. She couldn’t let him walk away just like that.
"I—uh, I know I shouldn’t bother you," she blurted, stepping in front of him. "But I understand why you were so... concerned for Anna. I mean, she is your soon-to-be sister-in-law, after all, and it’s only natural for you to care—"
Daniel stopped dead in his tracks.
His voice was calm when he spoke, but it sliced through the air like ice. "What did you just say?"
Fiona froze. Her confidence faltered under the weight of his stare — those eyes, cold and unblinking, the kind that stripped people bare before they could think of a lie.
"I-I mean..." she stammered, her throat tightening. "You’re about to marry her sister, Kathrine Bennett. Everyone knows about it, so it’s—"
"So you believe in rumors," Daniel interrupted, his tone suddenly low and razor-sharp. "And worse, you spread them with assumptions."
Fiona’s face blanched. The words hit her like a slap, the air in her lungs thinning as she opened and closed her mouth, unable to respond.
Daniel took a deliberate step closer, his towering presence making her instinctively step back. "If that’s true, Miss Stewart," he said evenly, "then perhaps you should stop your father from pushing you toward me as a potential partner. Because I can see very clearly — you’re not one."
Fiona’s breath hitched. "I-I don’t know what you’re talking about—"
"Oh, but I do," Daniel said quietly, his eyes gleaming with restrained disdain. "Your father, Fredrick Stewart, has been rather persistent in trying to tie our families together. I suppose he didn’t tell you I’m not a man who entertains schemes."
Fiona’s lips parted, her face drained of color.
Daniel adjusted his cufflinks as he stepped around her. "Do me a favor, Miss Stewart," he said without looking back, his voice smooth but final. "The next time you see your father, tell him I’m not interested in his daughter — since, as you just pointed out, I already have someone in my life."
And with that, he walked away, leaving Fiona rooted to the spot, humiliated and trembling.
Her forced composure cracked the moment he turned the corner. The polite smile she’d worn melted into fury, her nails digging into her palms as her chest heaved.
Daniel Clafford was exactly the kind of man her father had described — cunning, ruthless, and brutally sharp when it came to humiliating others.
No matter how many cards her father, Fredrick Stewart, had played to win him over, Daniel had never once yielded.
And now, Fiona finally understood why.
Her pride stung, her chest still tight from the way he’d dismissed her like a nobody. But she refused to let her anger show. Drawing a slow, deep breath, she composed herself — smoothing her hair, lifting her chin — and turned toward Anna’s vanity room.
If she couldn’t win against Daniel, she would at least crush the woman who somehow managed to earn his attention.
When she pushed open the door, her lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.
"My, my, my," she drawled, stepping inside with arms crossed. "I never thought you had so many men wrapped around your finger, Anna."