Chapter 74: Daniel Asks Properly
Daniel did not choose the roof the second time.
That told Elena he had learned.
High places were no longer forbidden, but they were not props either.
He chose the unfinished west wing of the house Elena had bought two days after sentencing, a place with bare floors, wrong walls, old windows, and no polished story.
The estate agent had called it challenging.
Elena had called it honest.
Claire had called it “structurally rude.”
Daniel stood in the room where rain tapped against cracked glass and dust still lived in the corners.
No candles.
No hidden musicians.
No symbolic height.
Just two coats over paint tins, a kettle balanced on a crate, and the city lights far below but not beneath them.
Elena liked it immediately.
That irritated her, because she disliked being predictable.
“You chose the room with the bad plaster,” she said.
“You said you liked things that admitted what they were.”
“I said that about houses, not proposals.”
“I listen broadly.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Daniel looked nervous again, but not in the same way as the roof.
This time, his nerves had less performance and more permission.
Progress.
Claire and Sophia were downstairs pretending to review Iris intake policy.
They were absolutely listening.
Elena knew because Claire had left the baby monitor on the windowsill and pretended it was a security device.
Daniel noticed her noticing it.
“Do you want me to remove it?”
“No. Let her suffer.”
Downstairs, something thumped.
Probably Claire.
Daniel took the ring box from his coat.
The same plain black box.
The same dark sapphire.
No attempt to replace the ring Marcus had stolen. No attempt to rewrite loss as romance.
Just a question with a stone inside it.
“I did not ask properly last time,” Daniel said.
“You were interrupted by a criminal reserve movement.”
“I still dislike my timing.”
“Elaborate guilt is your natural habitat.”
“That is fair.”
He opened the box.
The sapphire caught the weak room light and held it without showing off.
Good stone, Elena thought.
Better restraint.
Daniel said, “I love you. I respect you. I am still repairing things I broke before you trusted me.”
That was a difficult opening.
She appreciated difficulty.
“I cannot promise never to be wrong,” he continued. “I can promise not to hide the wrongness because it makes me look better.”
Elena looked at him.
That reached her more than a vow about forever.
Forever had been a room once. Locked.
Honesty, however, had hinges.
Daniel held the box steady. “Marry me, Elena Voss. Not because you need protection. Not because I want a place in your story.”
He paused.
“Because I want to build rooms where you never have to ask who owns the door.”
The house creaked around them.
Old wood. Bad plaster. Honest walls.
Elena thought of Marcus’s office, the helicopter, the courtroom, Iris, Voss Protocol, Claire’s ground crew, Sophia’s one pound, and the company that now paid its people before its lawyers.
Then she looked at Daniel.
“I will not be softer,” she said.
His mouth moved like he had nearly smiled and knew better.
“I did not ask for softer.”
“I will not be smaller.”
“I would not know what to do with smaller.”
“I will not be grateful for basic decency.”
“Good. It is a terrible foundation for marriage.”
That one made her smile.
Downstairs, Claire made a muffled sound that might have been sobbing or victory.
Elena held out her hand.
“Yes,” she said.
Daniel slipped the ring onto her finger.
It fit.
That was suspiciously competent.
Elena looked toward the baby monitor. “Claire, breathe.”
A crash came from downstairs.
Sophia yelled, “She is fine.”
Daniel laughed then, properly.
Elena let herself laugh too.
For once, no alarm interrupted.