Edward Palen never believed in fate. The universe, in his mind, was nothing but a chaotic stage where people performed their roles without a script, clinging to the illusion of control.
He had learned this young—when a truck on Nairobi's Upper Hill Road ran a red light and stole his parents from him in a second. He had been just fifteen. Too young to understand that wealth could buy security but never certainty. Too young to realize that love, once lost, never truly returns.
Now, years later, wealth was all he had left. A mansion too large for one man. A fortune too vast for a lonely heart. And a best friend who wasn't really his friend at all.
Edward's daily routine was precise, predictable. Mornings at his study, afternoons at his late father's company, Palen Industries. Evenings were a cycle of routine dinners and a quiet retreat into books that never truly distracted him. His wealth ensured his life was comfortable, yet something always felt missing—something no amount of money could buy.
He thought about this often, especially in the moments between dusk and sleep, when silence wrapped around him like a heavy blanket. It was in those moments he wondered if wealth without purpose was just a cage made of gold.
---
"Edward is a fool," Harry said, leaning back in the leather booth at Javas, fingers tapping against his glass of whiskey. "And we're not gonna make a fool out of him—because he already is one."
Daisy stirred her coffee, pretending not to care. But she did. Because Harry's schemes always sounded easy until you were knee-deep in them. Until you were in too deep to crawl back out.
"I've put you in tough deals before," Harry continued, a smirk playing on his lips. "But this will be a cakewalk. Eddie trusts me. And soon, he'll trust you."
Daisy exhaled through her nose. "And how do you know where he keeps the money?"
"I don't." Harry leaned forward, lowering his voice. "But I know it's in the house. And I know he sleeps at nine and wakes up early. Which means you have one shot to find it."
Daisy tilted her head. "And why exactly would he let me into his house?"
Harry grinned. "Because he's about to fall in love with you."
Daisy hated that she didn't argue. Because Harry was usually right.
She sat back, letting the idea sink in. Seducing Edward wasn't the hardest part—she had done worse for less. But there was something about this job that made her stomach tighten. Maybe it was the way Harry spoke about Edward, as if he were some oblivious child to be toyed with. Or maybe it was the thought of looking into Edward's eyes, pretending to care, and knowing he would believe every lie she told.
---
That evening, Edward stood in his study, staring at the polished wooden desk where his father once sat. His phone vibrated, pulling him from his thoughts.
A message from Harry: Dinner? My treat.
Edward smiled. Harry was arrogant, but he had his moments. Maybe tonight would be a good night.
He grabbed his keys and stepped out, unaware that the person who would change his life forever was already waiting for him.
---
The Making of Daisy
Daisy had once believed in love. She had once believed in a world where things worked out, where effort paid off, and where happiness, once found, could last. But that was a long time ago—before the struggle, before the heartbreak, before she learned that dreams were delicate things, too easily shattered by reality.
Her earliest memories were filled with laughter. Her mother, Miriam, had been her world. A strong woman with a kind smile, Miriam had raised Daisy alone, working long hours at a textile factory to provide for her daughter. Their home was small but filled with warmth. Every evening, no matter how exhausted she was, Miriam would sit by Daisy's bedside, stroke her hair, and tell her that she was destined for something great.
For years, Daisy believed her.
Childhood was simple. The neighborhood kids played in the dusty streets, their laughter echoing through the tiny alleys of their estate. Daisy was always the one running the fastest, laughing the loudest, believing that life would always be this full.
But then, things changed. Slowly at first, like a whisper in the wind. Her mother began coughing more often. She stayed in bed longer. Her job at the factory became too much, and eventually, she was let go. Money became tighter, and the warmth of their home turned into a quiet desperation. Daisy was thirteen when she first understood what it meant to go to bed hungry.
Miriam did everything she could to shield Daisy from the worst of it, but Daisy was no fool. She saw the way her mother smiled through the pain, the way she held onto hope like it was the only thing keeping her alive. Daisy decided then that she would take care of her mother, no matter what it took.
By the time Daisy reached high school, she had learned to hide her struggles well. She wore confidence like armor, masking the fears that gnawed at her. She had dreams once—dreams of being a writer, of traveling, of seeing a world beyond the narrow streets she had grown up in. But dreams didn't pay hospital bills.
And then, there was Liam.
Liam was the kind of boy novels were written about—charming, handsome, the kind of person who made you believe in the impossible. He saw Daisy when others overlooked her. He made her feel special, like she was more than just a girl carrying the weight of a sick mother on her shoulders. For a while, she let herself believe in love again.
But love, she learned, was a cruel thing.
She found out the truth on a rainy afternoon, standing outside the school library. Liam, her Liam, was wrapped around another girl, whispering the same sweet lies he had told her. She had stood frozen, watching as the illusion shattered before her eyes. When he finally noticed her, his only defense was a careless shrug.
"It was never serious, Daisy. You knew that."
Something inside her broke that day. Not just her heart, but the part of her that had once believed in love, in honesty, in safety and in fairy-tale endings. She learned then that people lied. That trust was a currency too easily spent. That caring too much only led to pain.
From that day on, Daisy built walls. She became the girl who played by her own rules, who took what she needed without apology. If the world was cruel, she would be crueler. If love was a game, she would never be the one to lose again.
And so, years later, when Harry came to her with a scheme wrapped in promises, she didn't hesitate. Because love was a lie. And in the end, survival was all that mattered.