Chapter 8 - The Woman Who Had Spent Two Years Hiding Behind a Secretary’s Desk Finally Told Me Why She Chose Me
A year after Daniel's arrest, Costa Logistics was almost entirely rebuilt.
The criminal side was gone.
The legitimate business flourished.
Employees trusted management again.
The docks were quieter.
The company was clean.
But something between Khloe and me remained unresolved.
She became my closest adviser.
She knew everything.
Except how I felt.
One night, we stayed late reviewing a new contract.
She closed the folder.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you hire me?”
I smiled.
“You had a good résumé.”
“You didn't read it.”
“You were persistent.”
“You didn't interview me.”
I looked at her.
“You were crying in the parking lot.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Your first day.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
She smiled.
“Why did you remember?”
“Because I wanted to know why.”
“And?”
“I never found out.”
She looked down.
“I had gotten a rejection letter from another company.”
“So you cried.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought my life was over.”
I leaned back.
“What changed?”
“You gave me a job.”
“I gave you a secretary position.”
“You gave me a reason to stay.”
I looked at her.
“Then why the investigation?”
“Because I thought my father deserved justice.”
“And now?”
She met my eyes.
“Now I want a life that isn't defined by what happened to him.”
I swallowed.
“I want that too.”
She smiled softly.
Then she reached into her bag.
A small envelope.
“What is that?”
She gave it to me.
Inside was a photograph.
Me.
As a teenager.
Standing beside my father.
I stared.
“Where did you get this?”
“My mother.”
On the back was written:
He will need someone who sees him clearly.
My heart tightened.
“She knew.”
Khloe nodded.
“She thought you'd become like your father.”
“I didn't.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“You became someone else.”
“Who?”
“The man I trust.”
I looked at her.
“Khloe.”
She smiled.
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you something.”
Her phone rang.
She answered.
Then her face changed.
“What?”
She listened.
“Okay.”
She ended the call.
“What happened?”
“My mother collapsed.”
We rushed to the hospital.
Elena survived.
A minor stroke.
She recovered slowly.
During the waiting hours, Khloe sat beside me.
“I don't know what I'd do without her.”
“You won't have to find out.”
She looked at me.
I took her hand.
She didn't pull away.
“When this is over,” I said, “I want to take you somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere normal.”
“What is normal for you?”
“I don't know.”
She smiled.
“Then we can learn.”
Elena woke three days later.
She looked at us holding hands.
A smile appeared.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
Khloe laughed.
“Mom.”
Elena looked at me.
“Your father would approve.”
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Months later, I took Khloe to a small beach town in Maine.
No guards.
No business.
No weapons.
Just ocean air and coffee.
We walked along the water.
She slipped her hand into mine.
“I like you better like this.”
“Like what?”
“Quiet.”
“I don't know how to be quiet.”
“You're learning.”
I stopped.
“Khloe.”
“Yes?”
“Marry me.”
Her eyes widened.
“That was fast.”
“Two years.”
“That's not fast.”
“I spent two years pretending.”
She smiled.
“Pretending what?”
“That you were just my secretary.”
“And now?”
“I know better.”
She stepped closer.
“Then ask me again.”
I smiled.
“Will you marry me?”
May you like
She kissed me.
“Yes.”
