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Chapter Text

Dan had no idea what was happening. Truly, he understood nothing. And to be fair, how could he? It wasn’t every day that men in black suits barged into your apartment without even ringing the doorbell and demanded you pack a suitcase—without identifying themselves first.
“I don’t know who you think you are, walking into my home like this,” Dan shouted, trying to sound brave, “but if you don’t leave this instant, I’ll scream so loud the neighbors will call the police.”
He knew it wasn’t the most intimidating threat. After all, he was in nothing but boxers and an old, oversized t-shirt, slightly translucent but ridiculously comfortable for sleeping.
Dan wanted to blame his disorientation on lack of sleep, to convince himself this was some absurd nightmare. But judging by the grim, unyielding expressions of the four men, this was no dream.
“Mr. Amery, please follow my instructions. Your grandmother is not a patient woman,” one of the men said. His suit was a little tight, his face hard, but he was undeniably attractive. Dan decided to call him Adam in his mind—one of the few coping mechanisms he had for dealing with bizarre situations.
“I think you’ve got the wrong person. My name isn’t Amery, and I don’t have a grandmother,” Dan said, hoping they would realize the mistake and leave. He even wished the real Amery boy well.
Adam took a step closer. “I understand your confusion, but we can’t leave without you.”
“Don’t come any closer!” Dan’s legs trembled as fear shot through him. He bolted for the kitchen and grabbed the nearest knife, desperate to defend himself.
His actions caused the four men to tense. Two reached for their waists as if to draw weapons. Dan couldn’t believe his luck—waking up Saturday at eleven only to face this nightmare. With his father in the hospital already, this was the last thing he needed.
“Get out of my house, or I’m not responsible for what happens!” Dan yelled, waving the knife frantically. His hope was that the neighbors would hear him and call 911.
“Mr. Amery, we haven’t come—”
“Enough! ¡I already told you, my name isn’t Amery!” he cut off Adam. He wanted them gone, now.
Adam advanced. “Then you leave me no choice.”
“No! ¡Stop! Don’t come any closer, or I’ll—” Dan tried to sound threatening, but fear clawed at him. He was terrified of both the men and hurting someone.
He considered running, knife in hand, toward his bedroom to escape down the fire escape, praying they valued their lives enough not to stop him. But before he could act, Adam’s hand moved faster than he could react.
Dan hadn’t noticed one of the men circle behind him. The man leapt onto him, and in the shock, the knife slipped from his grasp. Bad move, Dan. You should have watched all four, not just Adam.
“Let me go, you son of a—!” Dan twisted violently, but the man’s grip was iron.
“Quickly, gag him!” another man, a redhead, commanded. A strip of cloth pressed over Dan’s mouth before he could scream.
“Careful not to hurt him, Madam Amery will not be pleased with scratches,” Adam said as the other three men bound Dan’s hands and feet. He struggled, but they were too strong.
“This should have been considered before sending for the boy,” the first brute complained, clearly irritated. “Why complicate things? A word with Rufus could have solved this.”
Dan’s attempts to free himself doubled. They were talking about his father. He had to get out and warn the hospital, but it was useless. Brute One held him tight while Brutes Two and Three finished binding his legs.
“Enough. Madam gave orders, and we follow them,” Adam said, approaching. “And you… behave, or I’ll put you in the trunk. Understand?” His fist pressed Dan’s jaw firmly, leaving him no choice but to nod. Adam’s gaze alone could terrify anyone.
“Carry him to the car. We were going to pack his bag, but time is short.”
“Yes, sir,” the brutes responded. Brute Two hoisted Dan onto his shoulder like a sack of cotton, his head and legs dangling humiliatingly. They exited the apartment, the door closing with a final, chilling thud. Dan had no idea where they were taking him.

Chapter Text

Chuck stirred reluctantly from his bed. It was seven in the morning, and he had an hour before he needed to leave for work. Monkey, ever faithful, lifted himself from his own small bed and padded over to lick Chuck’s hand. The dog thrived on morning affection, and Chuck could never refuse.
Truth be told, Chuck had never expected to care so deeply for anything—or anyone—as he did for this dog. Even something given to him by Daniel Humphrey had gained a place in his heart. Monkey didn’t care that Chuck was one of the wealthiest men in New York; a good scratch behind the ears and a pat on the head, and he was content for the day.
A glance at the clock brought Chuck back to reality. It was 7:15. He had lingered in thought longer than he realized. Rising quickly, he headed for the bathroom and a hot shower. Hayden, his driver, would be waiting at the entrance at 7:45. Chuck liked to take his time, to savor the process of looking every bit the multimillionaire he was, even if he would never admit it.
Just as he reached to close the bathroom door, his phone rang. Chuck groaned. He didn’t want to answer, but he knew that if his secretary, whom he’d known since childhood, was calling at this hour, it was serious. Only she and the vice president had his personal number—and both knew it was to be used for emergencies only.
Grumbling, he picked up the phone. “What is it now?” His tone was curt—not out of rudeness, but because nothing frustrated him more than a disrupted morning shower.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Bass, but it’s urgent. You need to come to the office immediately,” said Miss Clouthier, always delightfully direct.
“What’s happened? Unless we’re on the brink of bankruptcy or there’s a scandal involving company misconduct, I don’t see why I need to interrupt my morning routine,” Chuck replied calmly. Experience had taught him that panic solved nothing.
“It’s Mrs. Amery. She insists on meeting with you,” Clouthier said, urgency threading her voice.
Chuck’s eyebrows shot up. Mrs. Amery in New York?
He knew of the Amerys—one of the oldest, wealthiest families in England. They owned castles, sprawling enterprises, and franchises across Europe and the Upper East Side. At the helm was Mrs. Amelia Amery, a woman Chuck had only seen twice: once at a Christmas party in a German castle when he was ten, and again at a charity ball at the MoMA at sixteen. She was notoriously elusive, sending her eldest son to public appearances instead. Even Chuck, raised amid wealth and privilege, knew little about the family’s inner workings, save for their immense power.
“She is in New York, sir, and wishes to see you as soon as possible,” Clouthier confirmed.
“Very well. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Notify Hayden—I want him waiting at the entrance immediately.” Chuck understood his limitations: no amount of wealth allowed one to make a matriarch of the Amery family wait, especially not one so intertwined in business dealings. His father had made a point of cultivating the Amery connection to elevate both the family fortune and their social standing. Bass Industries was one of the few companies the Amerys engaged with.
The memory of that Christmas party lingered vividly. Not only had it been his first real castle, but it had been the only time he saw his father genuinely nervous. Bart had wanted to secure an alliance through him—marriage, friendship, anything that could connect the Bass and Amery dynasties. But Amelia Amery revealed little about her family. Only the basics: four children and a daughter who worked with her, and a son disinherited for marrying outside their elite circle. That scandal had been whispered about, but no one knew his name.
Chuck hurriedly grabbed one of his finest suits, changing with mechanical precision. Shoes on, hair adjusted, jacket in hand, he moved with all the urgency of a man who sensed time slipping. Outside, Hayden waited, the limousine engine running.
“Drive as fast as possible. I don’t care about tickets,” Chuck ordered.
“As you wish, sir,” Hayden replied, closing the door.
Traffic was unusually light for New York at this hour, cutting the usual 25-minute commute in half. Still, Chuck felt a knot of nervous anticipation. Few could impress him like Mrs. Amery.
His phone rang again. Relief washed over him as he saw it was Nate—not Clouthier—calling, presumably before she would have to remind him of her impatience.
“Hello?” Chuck answered, still distracted.
“Where are you? I just arrived at your suite and you’re not there. I thought we were having breakfast,” Nate said, his voice almost alarmingly energetic for 7:30 a.m.
“I’m on my way to work.”
“Work? Who are you and what have you done with Chuck Bass?” Nate laughed.
“Very funny. I have something urgent to handle,” Chuck said, rubbing his temple.
“Seriously, where are you? Don’t tell me you’re lost across the river in some stranger’s apartment.”
“That happened once, and I haven’t returned to Brooklyn since. I’m on my way to Bass Industries. My secretary called—Mrs. Amery wants a meeting.”
“Wait. Did you say Amery? As in the Amerys of England? The ones from Cochem Castle?” Nate’s surprise echoed Chuck’s own.
“Yes,” Chuck said grimly.
“And why? Did you sleep with someone in the family?” Nate asked.
Chuck clenched his jaw. “No. I don’t know why she wants to meet, only that she does. I can’t make her wait.”
“Wow. You’re meeting the head of the Amery family. Don’t screw it up, Chuck. You know their power.”
“I know,” Chuck replied wearily. Not exactly how he wanted to start his Saturday.
“Relax. You may be a womanizer, but you’re a sharp businessman. Just don’t flirt with Mrs. Amery.” Nate chuckled.
“Are you insane? She could be my grandmother!”
“Ha! Don’t act offended. I know you’ve had older women.”
“Yes, but only by five to eight years. Thirty years older is a different story.” Chuck sighed, irritated at Nate’s teasing.
“Fine. Enjoy your meeting; I’m off to eat some delicious crepes,” Nate said, ending the call.
Finally, Bass Industries loomed ahead. Chuck exited the limousine before the door could open fully, moving quickly inside. His tie adjusted for the sixth time, he ignored greetings as he strode to the elevator.
“Mr. Bass, it’s a pleasure—”
“I don’t have time. Step aside,” he snapped, forcing the elevator’s occupants out so he could reach his office.
His private elevator required a code and avoided the crowds of employees, though it was slightly out of the way. He pressed the button for his office floor, letting out a small sigh as the doors closed.
He didn’t know why Mrs. Amery wanted to see him, but it couldn’t be good.
The elevator chimed, doors parted. Two imposing men in black suits flanked his office entrance while Miss Clouthier remained seated at her desk. Now he understood Clouthier’s insistence: this was urgent. The height difference between her 1.62 meters and the guards’ 1.80 meters alone could intimidate anyone.
“Mr. Bass, good morning. I’m glad you’re here,” Clouthier whispered. “Mrs. Amery is waiting in your office.”
“Thank you, Clouthier. Why don’t you go get some chocolate croissants and strawberries across the street?” Chuck suggested. It’s not that Chuck is particularly hungry, but he figures a distraction might do his secretary good before she has a heart attack.
“Of course, Mr. Bass. I’ll be right back.”
The guards remained statuesque. Chuck entered his office, finding Mrs. Amery looking out the window.
“New York will never be as elegant as London, but it is, without a doubt, the most impressive city in America,” she said, turning gracefully to sit in a chair.
“Good morning, Mrs. Amery,” Chuck greeted, taking the opposite seat.
“Good morning, Mr. Bass. I must say, I am impressed by your office.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because your high school record suggested otherwise—reckless, indulgent, and scandalous. When I heard your father had died, I feared for Bass Industries. But I see now I was mistaken.”
Chuck wanted to retort with a string of expletives, but he knew better.
“Although you’re still a disaster with women, I’m not surprised Miss Waldorf left you. Well, she’s not exactly the best example of a high-class young lady.” she continued, almost casually.
“Mrs. Amery, I would appreciate it if you would answer my question and tell me why you’ve come,” Chuck can’t help himself. Blair may no longer be his girlfriend, but she’s still his friend and he doesn’t like people insulting his friends. Only he has that right.
“I see I have touched a sensitive nerve. You must learn, Mr. Bass, not to react when provoked. After all, he who can control his emotions can be controlled as I wish,” she says calmly. “Despite everything, I see great potential in you.”
“Potential for what?” Chuck asked, his patience thinning.
“For my purposes. You see, Mr. Bass, some time ago one of my children decided that the family into which he was born wasn’t good enough. My son wanted more freedom and to be with whoever he wanted. But we all know that power and money come with responsibilities and bonds. If you want to maintain a certain lifestyle, you must give up certain things,” Mrs. Amery lets out a small sigh before continuing. “However, my dear son never understood this, and I had to force him to make a decision: either stay with the family and fulfill his role, or leave and forfeit access to the family fortune. I underestimated his pride and stupidity when he ran off with his girlfriend and never returned.”
So it’s true about the disinherited son — even the Amerys couldn’t keep that scandal hidden.
“Nevertheless, I didn’t get where I am by chance, Mr. Bass. I knew perfectly well the girl was only after our fortune. When I removed my son from the accounts, she left my son with a newborn baby.” I can see anger in Mrs. Amery’s eyes; she’s clearly a strong-willed woman. “Still, my son did not return. Pride is a great strength but also a great weakness. He couldn’t admit he was wrong and chose to stay away from the family for many years.”
“Mrs. Amery, I don’t mind hearing about your family life, but what does this have to do with me?” I ask, confused. Does this woman have no one to confide in that she’s talking to a complete stranger?
“That’s where I’m going, Mr. Bass,” she sighs again. “Honestly, young people today lack patience.” (Excuse me — I think to myself — I have a company to run.)
“My son contacted me two months ago to tell me he’s broke because he has cancer,” the woman says, closing her eyes for a moment as if to digest her own words. “As you know, illness can ruin a person not only physically but also financially. My son never had a bad life but he doesn’t have the resources to pay for treatment and support his own child. I am not a bad mother, Mr. Bass, despite what people say. I love my children and will do whatever is necessary to protect my family. That is why I require your assistance.”
Chuck frowned. “What could I possibly do?”
“I understand. Do you need me to put him in touch with an oncology specialist? I can prioritize his chemotherapy and radiotherapy at the best hospital in New York.”
“No, Mr. Bass. I don’t need that kind of support. I’ve already arranged to transfer my son to the best hospital in the United States with the best doctor. What I need from you is different. I don’t need your contacts or your money so much as your image.”
“My image?” I ask, puzzled — this woman is very strange.
“Yes. You see, in my family — as in all families — there are jealousies and grudges. My brother didn’t look kindly on the idea of reintegrating my son into the family legacy. After all, the more heirs there are, the less money there is.”
“You fear your brother will do something to your son?”
“Not to my son — to my grandson. My grandson, born out of wedlock and not raised in our society, is an easier target, and it’s not my brother I fear but his son, my nephew. My brother would never dare harm any of my children or grandchildren — he doesn’t have the guts to go against me. But my nephew is a completely different story; he has proven on more than one occasion that he will do whatever it takes to keep the position and power he has.”
“So you want me to protect your grandson?”
“Exactly. I need my grandson to be safe so his father can focus on his recovery, and the only way to guarantee that is if you help me.”
“How can I help? I don’t understand. You’re very powerful — surely you can hire bodyguards to protect the boy.”
“Believe me, Mr. Bass, if it were as simple as hiring employees, I wouldn’t be speaking to you. As I said, my nephew is capable of harming others to keep what he has. To maintain peace within my family I cannot take sides, no matter how much it angers me. But if I take a side, the family will split and that is something I will not allow.” She exhales and clasps her hands. “That is why I need you to marry my grandson, Mr. Bass.”
Chuck froze. “…WHAT?”
“Yes. Marriage. You, Mr. Bass, will shield him from my nephew’s threats.”
“No, I’ve had enough of listening.” I stand up and start pacing the office like a caged dog. “I don’t care what family you’re from, but you are mistaken if you think I’ll do as you say. I will not marry anyone. I own Bass Industries and I don’t need contacts or alliances — my company can stand on its own, as can I.” I slam my hand on the desk, furious.
Yet none of this seems to intimidate the elderly woman. “I understand what you say, Mr. Bass. Believe me, I didn’t want to marry the man who was my husband either, but over the years I learned to love him and we formed a beautiful relationship.”
“No, you don’t understand. I am not going to form a ‘beautiful relationship’ with anyone. I like my freedom and I won’t be tied to someone just to please some old business friends of my father.” Chuck had tried that — to have a beautiful relationship — and it wasn’t for him. He thought maybe with Blair things could work because they had the same interests and came from the same world, but in the end it failed and it took him time to recover.
“Also, how would marrying your grandson help if the problem is internal? The problem is with your nephew.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to explain. In my family there is an old law: anyone who marries outside our social circle will be excluded from the family inheritance. I’m grateful my son was smart enough not to marry that woman, which is why he can be reinstated into the will; when he inherits his share, he can do as he pleases with it. That is why my nephew will consider my grandson a threat, because even though he wasn’t born of a legal union he still has the Amery name and thus the right to a portion of the inheritance.”
“So you want your grandson to marry me so he won’t be included in the will?”
“Precisely. You, despite having a presence on the Upper East Side, don’t belong to any of the old English families in our society. Therefore if my grandson marries you, he will be safe from my nephew because he will no longer be seen as a threat.”
Chuck, still standing behind his desk, sighs and lets out a small laugh.
“I understand you think you can come here and ask me for this because both you and I live in an affluent environment and know money is the most powerful weapon we have — but as I told you before, I am not willing to give up my freedom for money.”
Mrs. Amery sighs and says, “I hoped I wouldn’t have to resort to this.” She opens the bag at her side and takes out some papers.
“What are those?” I ask suspiciously.
“This, Mr. Bass, is a contract your father and I made long ago, when you were a child.” The woman puts on her glasses and starts to read the document. “It’s a prenuptial agreement that stipulates the heir to Bass Industries, Charles Bartholomew Bass, must marry a member of the Amery family, the specific member to be chosen by the head of the family — in this case, me, Mr. Bass.”
“Look, ma’am — if my father were alive maybe I’d consider honoring the contract, but he’s been dead for a while so I have no obligation,” I say.
“Young Bass, you underestimate the wisdom of older people. The contract states that if you refuse to comply there will be severe penalties.”
“Ha. I have no problem paying a fine, or if you want to terminate the business contracts we have, that’s fine too.”
“You again underestimate the power of the Amery family — something no one should do. Do you really think I agreed to a marriage contract with someone outside the English society just to have another business partner? Your father was desperate to prove the value his company would have. I accepted the contract under two conditions: first, that I could terminate the contract whenever I wished, and second, that if your father or you breached the terms, the Amery family would own 70% of Bass Industries.”
“That’s not possible! My father would never have accepted those terms,” I say, furious. It can’t be true — my father wanted many things, but he cherished his company.
“As I said before, your father was desperate to succeed in business, and what better way than to strike deals with one of the most powerful families in America and Europe. By entering the contract, I agreed to be his business partner and introduced him to other important people in the New York real estate industry.”
“But it’s not possible my father agreed to give you 70% of the company,” I reply, desperate.
“Your father owed me the success of that company; without Amery influence, he wouldn’t have gone far.”
“But—”
“I am a reasonable woman, young Bass. I will leave the contract for you to review and also in case you wish to consult your lawyers.” She stands and leaves the papers on the desk. “But unfortunately I am not a patient person. I give you two days to decide. If I don’t have an answer by then I will take possession of the portion that corresponds to me. Have a lovely day, Mr. Bass.” She walks to the door, but before she can leave Chuck stops her.
“Wait. At least tell me what your grandson’s name is. If I’m going to make a decision this important I have the right to know who the other person is.”
“All right. My grandson, like you, was born here in New York but he lives in Brooklyn.” Oh God — someone from Brooklyn — it can’t get worse. “Although thanks to his grades he managed to get a scholarship to attend the same school as you, young Bass — they were classmates.” Wait — classmates? This kid went to St. Jude’s? And he’s from Brooklyn? I don’t like where this is going.
“You mean—” I can’t say the name — it can’t be him!
“His name is Daniel Humphrey,” the woman says calmly. “His father decided to change his last name to go unnoticed, but legally his name is Daniel Randolph Amery.”

Chapter Text

“Daniel… Humphrey?” Chuck’s voice was a mixture of disbelief and incredulity.
“Yes. Daniel Randolph Amery,” Mrs. Amery confirmed calmly. Her composure was unshakable, as if this revelation were mundane. “His father changed the surname to remain inconspicuous, but legally, he is still an Amery.”
Chuck sank back into his chair, gripping the armrests as if the wood might anchor him in reality. His mind flickered through a thousand protests. This is insane. Impossible. I can’t marry him. I don’t even know him. And what about my freedom? My company?
Mrs. Amery leaned forward slightly, her piercing gaze fixed on him. “Mr. Bass, I understand your surprise, perhaps even your anger. But you must see the necessity. My grandson’s life—and, by extension, my family’s legacy—depends on it.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Chuck muttered, exasperated. “You’re asking me to—marry someone I’ve barely known? And he’s… he’s a man. Do you even realize what you’re asking?”
She did not flinch. “I do. And I also know your reputation, Mr. Bass. You are clever, resourceful, and, yes… somewhat headstrong. But you also understand strategy, alliances, and the protection of legacies. This is not a request made lightly. It is a calculated decision, one that preserves order in my family and safeguards my grandson.”
Chuck leaned back, running a hand through his hair, feeling trapped in the swirl of obligations and expectations. “And if I refuse?”
“Then the consequences are… unfortunate,” she replied, her tone almost clinical. “The contract you see before you is binding. If you decline, Bass Industries will be affected. Ownership stakes, partnerships, your position—everything is at risk. Do you understand the weight of this?”
He glanced at the papers she had placed on the desk. The contract’s header alone carried the weight of a fortune, promises of influence, and legal precision. Reading the words would be enough to make any sane person tremble.
“And you expect me to just… sign this? Marry someone because it secures your family’s wealth and peace?” Chuck’s voice was sharp, incredulous. “Do you even know what you’re asking of me? Of my life?”
Mrs. Amery’s lips curved into a faint, measured smile. “Yes, Mr. Bass. And I also know the man I am asking you to marry is… not without merit. Daniel is intelligent, loyal, and capable. You may find that, in time, this alliance could prove… mutually beneficial.”
Chuck laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Mutually beneficial? I don’t even like this! I don’t know him! I don’t even—”
“Enough,” she said firmly, though never raising her voice. “You have two days to consider. Two days to decide whether you will honor the contract made by your father. Two days to secure my grandson’s safety—and, if you refuse, two days before Bass Industries feels the consequences of your choice.”
The words settled heavily over him. Chuck leaned forward, gripping the contract. The room felt smaller somehow, the stakes impossibly high. He thought of his father, of the empire he had built, of the power and influence that had brought him this far. And he thought of Daniel, of Brooklyn, of a world he barely knew existed.
“Two days,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Two days to decide if I give up my life… for theirs.”
Mrs. Amery nodded once, satisfied. “Exactly. Consider it carefully, Mr. Bass. I trust you will make the right choice.”
Chuck rose from his chair, the weight of his world pressing down on him. He turned away from her, staring out at the New York skyline, the city alive below, buzzing with oblivious energy. And in that moment, he knew nothing—no wealth, no power, no cunning—could prepare him for what was coming.
The clock was ticking. And in two days, everything would change.

Chapter Text

Dan still didn’t understand what was happening—well, that’s not entirely true. He had a small idea of what was going on; more accurately, he had a thousand theories about what was happening, but you couldn’t blame him. After all, he was tied up, hands and feet bound, sitting in a chair in the middle of an elegant room, with his mouth gagged.
He truly thought the thugs had gone too far by covering his mouth. According to them, he deserved it for biting Brute 2 on the shoulder when he had the chance. Dan could still taste the metallic tang of blood and felt proud that he had at least left a permanent mark on one of his captors.
But he couldn’t relax. He continued writhing, trying to free himself from his restraints. He needed to get to the hospital where his father was, to warn them that someone wanted to harm him. His dad couldn’t protect himself; he was weakened by cancer, and Dan didn’t want to think about what these idiots could do to his beloved father in that state. Just imagining him lying on that cold hospital bed, his grayish skin so frail that he no longer made the jokes he used to, brought a few tears to Dan’s eyes.
The past few months had been incredibly hard. When he learned his father had stomach cancer, he felt his world crumble. He had to leave university to care for him and also to work to pay the hospital bills. Dan had always dreamed of being a writer, but it takes a long time for a writer to earn a significant sum, and the one thing his father didn’t have was time.
Three months ago, he had reached the point of desperation and asked Serena for money. At first, she refused. Serena was still angry with him for ending their relationship, and Dan couldn’t understand how selfish she was. He knew she didn’t owe him anything, but this was about a life in danger. His father needed treatment to survive, and Serena couldn’t see past the fact that a middle-class Brooklyn guy had left her.
They started arguing, yelling at each other, until Serena’s mother, Lily, interrupted them. She had approached, alarmed by the argument, and demanded to know what was happening. Dan tried to explain as best he could without losing his temper. When Lily told him she would lend him the money, he couldn’t hold back any longer and broke down crying. He no longer cared what Serena thought of him; he was just relieved that his father would get the help he needed.
In short, it hadn’t been the best year for Dan, and now, in this situation, the only conclusion he could reach was that some cosmic force was against him. But he couldn’t give up—his father needed him, and that’s why he continued struggling against his restraints.
At that moment, the door swung open with a crash, and an elderly woman with a commanding presence entered the room. The click of her heels echoed across the marble floor as she approached him.
“I told you to bring him here so I could speak with him,” the woman said in a strong English accent, clearly angry. That’s when he noticed the four brutes who had kidnapped him entering the room.
“Not that you tied him to a chair and gagged him. Don’t you have any sense of decorum? If this gets out, what do you think the media will say?” she demanded, exasperated. For the first time, Dan saw fear in the eyes of the tall, muscular men. She must be their boss.
“We’re very sorry, Mrs. Amery,” Adam began. “But the boy didn’t make it easy for us. We had to tie him up so he wouldn’t hurt himself, and we gagged him because he bit Vincent.”
So Brute 2’s name was Vincent. Well, Vincent deserved it—he shouldn’t have tied him.
“I don’t care. I don’t want excuses. For the amount of money you were paid, you should be doing a better job.” The woman appeared calmer, but her eyes still carried anger. “Everyone out. Except you, Peter.”
So Adam’s real name was Peter. A shame—Adam suited him better.
“Yes, Mrs. Amery.” The other three idiots left the room, and Mrs. Amery sat in the chair across from Dan.
“Look, I understand you’re scared, and I regret that my employees didn’t find a better way to bring you here, but we need to talk.” Dan stared at her, not understanding what she wanted from him.
“Peter, please remove his gag. We can’t talk if it’s still on.”
Peter approached and removed the tape. Dan looked at him with hatred—he would never forget what these men had done. What idiots.
Once Peter removed the gag, Dan finally spoke his mind to the woman.
“Look, ma’am, I don’t know who the hell you are or what you want, but I think you’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know anything—absolutely nothing. And I think the best thing for you is to let me go before my father reports me missing.”
The woman let out a long sigh and looked at him with what he could only describe as disappointment. It was exactly the same look his father had given him as a child when he’d done something wrong.
“Daniel, I understand you’re a bit upset, but I need you to listen very carefully.”
“How do you know my name? Who the hell are you?” he asked desperately. He just wanted to go home.
“Daniel, please let me explain first.” He stayed silent. Maybe if he let her speak, she’d let him go.
“My name is Amelia Amery. I am the matriarch of the Amery family. Perhaps you’ve heard of my family, perhaps not. We try to stay out of the media so we can live quietly. My family owns hospitals, factories, franchises, and businesses in various countries. I imagine you’re wondering why I had you brought here, and honestly, I would have liked your father to be present to explain it to you.”
“My father? What does my father have to do with all this?” he asked, worried. He didn’t want anything to happen to his dad.
“Your father, Daniel, is my son,” the woman said calmly.
“Your son?! That’s impossible. He told me his parents died when he was a child,” Dan said, stunned. This woman must be joking.
“That’s partly true. I lost my husband when Rufus was a child. After all, he was our last child and couldn’t spend much time with his father. But I can assure you, Daniel, that I am still alive, and I have many years ahead of me,” she said with a small, melancholy smile.
“Then why would my father lie?” he asked, still not believing what was happening.
“Your father was always a rebel. You see, Daniel, our family is part of the high-society circles in London, which come with certain rules of etiquette. We can’t do whatever we please without consequences, and that was something my dear son could not accept.”
The woman sighed lightly before continuing.
“I tried to tolerate his mischief as best I could, but unfortunately, everyone has a breaking point, and mine came when your father decided to run away with your mother.”
“My mother? Dad never mentions her. He always said she wasn’t ready to be a mom and that’s why she left, but that she loved me very much.”
“As I said, our society has rules, and your father tried to break every single one of them by being with your mother. I have nothing against the middle class, despite what people might think, but your mother was never a good choice. She wasn’t with your father because she loved him; she was after his wealth and family status. She proved it when she abandoned your father after learning I had disinherited him and left you behind as well.”
“No… that’s… that can’t be. My father comes from such an important family? And my mother was just a gold-digger? That’s impossible.”
“I know it’s a lot of information at once, but you need to know everything.”
“Wait a minute. If you kicked my father out of your family, why are you here now?” He couldn’t understand what was happening.
“Your father contacted me two months ago about his cancer. I must admit I was surprised when I received his call; the last time I heard his voice was 15 years ago,” she said, her eyes nostalgic. “When he told me he was sick and struggling financially with the hospital bills, I decided it was time for him to return to the family.”
“We don’t need your help. I already took care of the bills, so we don’t need charity,” he said angrily. He didn’t care if she was his father’s mother; she couldn’t just show up after 24 years.
“I understand you asked Mrs. Van der Woodsen for money, and although that’s somewhat problematic, I will take care of it. After all, I cannot allow our family to be indebted to the Van der Woodsens—they’ve never had the best reputation. But the reality, sweetheart, is that you cannot continue like this. You may have paid the bills this time, but you are still in debt.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ll find a way to—”
“To what? Keep going into debt? Keep wasting time? Your father has cancer and needs the best treatment possible to recover, and that can only be achieved with money—money you do not have right now.”
Her words hit him like a dagger in the stomach, but she was right. His father had been getting worse instead of better. His oncologist had recommended the Mayo Clinic in Los Angeles, which had the most advanced treatments in the country. But just the hospital transfer alone cost thousands of dollars, not to mention the waiting list. And as the woman said, they couldn’t afford to waste any more time.
“What do you want from me?” he asked, resigned.
“Excuse me?”
“You must want something from me. Otherwise, why bring me here? I mean, you could have helped my father without kidnapping me, but it’s obvious you want something from me.”
“Well, it seems Rufus raised you well,” she said with a small smile. “You’re right, Daniel. I need something from you. You see, our family can be competitive, and not everyone will be happy to know your father will return to the family fortune—much less when they learn of your existence.”
“So you’re saying my family doesn’t know about me?”
“Your father, with the help of an old friend, falsified documents to give him a different name so you wouldn’t have the Amery surname, and so the public and family wouldn’t know about you. But on your real birth certificate, it says Daniel Randolph Amery. He did this to protect you.”
“Is his family really that dangerous?” he asked, worried.
“It’s your family now as well, and some members can be problematic—like one of my nephews, your uncle,” she said softly. “His father, my brother, would never dare go against my orders, but Samuel has already shown me that he won’t let anything or anyone stand in his way to climb higher in our society. Being my nephew, he hasn’t had as much power as my children or grandchildren, which drives him to be more aggressive, and I worry about what he might do if he learns about your existence.”
“Then why not warn him not to do anything against me? After all, you’re the boss,” he said sarcastically.
“Unfortunately, I cannot do that, as it would divide the family. Not everyone will agree when I tell them about Rufus’ return, and a divided family is a weak family. I will not let that happen,” she said firmly. “I’ve been the head of the family for over 30 years, and I regret to say it, but I will protect the family’s future and name against any threat. And you, my dear boy, are a great threat.”
“Your family must be weak if a simple kid from Brooklyn can be a threat,” he said incredulously. “And one more thing—could you untie me? I’ve been in this position for over an hour, and my hands and feet are starting to go numb.”
“Oh, of course. Peter, please untie him,” she said urgently. He could see the regret in her face as Peter freed his hands.
He sighed in relief, rubbing his slightly red wrists.
“So, what are you going to do with me? How is my dear grandmother going to deal with the great threat that is her 24-year-old grandson?” he asked, frustrated.
“Don’t be disrespectful,” his supposed grandmother said angrily. “Believe it or not, both your father and you are important to me, and that’s why I’ve already thought of the perfect solution for this situation.”
“And what is that?”
“You’re going to marry so you no longer have access to the family inheritance,” she said calmly.
“Excuse me? Marry? You must be joking. How will marrying solve anything?”
“As I said, our family belongs to London high society, and we have rules. One of the most important rules is that marriages only occur between members of our society. Your father was smart enough not to marry your mother because, if he had, he would have lost all family rights.”
“So you want me to marry so I lose rights I never even had?”
“Exactly. I wish there were another solution, but this is the only way my nephew won’t consider you a threat and the family won’t be divided.”
“I have to say, this is one of the craziest things anyone has ever told me,” he said with a long sigh. He was about to have the worst migraine of his life. “And what about my father? What will happen to him?”
“Your father is not in danger, because everyone in the family knew he could return as long as he didn’t marry someone outside our society. Once Rufus recovers, he will return to the family business and fulfill his duties as he should have many years ago.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. You know my father—he won’t return to that world so easily.”
“I thought about that too. That’s why I told him I would only help if he followed my instructions.”
“Wait—so you threatened your son, leaving him to his fate with cancer if he didn’t obey you?” he asked incredulously. “What kind of mother does that?”
“It may seem drastic, but unfortunately, I know my son, and I know it’s the only way I can protect him.”
“And if I don’t want to marry? What then?”
“Why are young people today so afraid of marriage?” she asked with a deep sigh. Not that he was afraid of marriage, but he didn’t want to be with someone he didn’t even know. “If you don’t marry, I cannot help you. It’s as simple as that.”
He sighed and buried his face in his hands. It was too much information all at once.
“Look, Daniel, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want. That’s why I’m giving you time to think about it. After all, I gave time to the one I consider your fiancé to think it over as well. It’s only fair that you have some time too,” she said calmly.
He lifted his head.
“Wait, did you say fiancé? How is that possible if you’re only just telling me?” he asked, surprised.
“As I said, this was all already planned.”
Then he realized she said fiancé, not fiancée. He stood abruptly.
“So…the person you want me to marry is a man?!”
“Yes. I must admit I had my doubts about him at first, but after investigating a bit, I realized he would be a good husband for you. He is successful in business and has powerful contacts. He will be able to protect you and give you everything you want.”
“I don’t care if he’s the most powerful man in all of London—I will not marry someone I don’t know, and much less a man.”
The woman looked disappointed and sighed lightly. She stood from the chair and walked to the exit.
“Peter, please take my grandson home,” she said, turning to look at him one last time. “As I said, take your time before deciding, and remember what’s at stake. I expect your answer in no more than two days.”
With that, she left the room.

Chapter Text

Daniel stumbled out of the elegant room, still reeling from the bombshell Amelia Amery had dropped on him. His legs felt like lead as Peter guided him down the marble hallways, the click of their footsteps echoing like a countdown in his ears. The city streets of Brooklyn, usually so familiar, now looked unbearably alien, as if he had stepped into a version of his life that no longer belonged to him.
Once they arrived at his apartment, Peter handed him a small, heavy business card. Daniel barely looked at it at first, his mind too tangled in shock and disbelief. Peter’s expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of gravity in his eyes.
“If you decide to… cooperate,” Peter said carefully, “you can reach me through this. Do not lose it. Do not forget it. Your response is expected within two days, Miss Amery’s orders.”
Daniel took the card, turning it over in his hands as if holding a key to a world he was only beginning to glimpse. The weight of it felt real. He didn’t even know if he wanted to make that call. He just knew it connected him to everything he had just learned—and to the impossible decisions ahead.
Once Peter left, Daniel locked the door behind him and sank into the worn armchair in the living room. His mind was a storm of confusion, anger, and disbelief. His father… his father was a member of the Amery family? And his mother had left not because of him, but for money? Daniel’s chest tightened, and for the first time, he felt the weight of his life pressing down with unbearable force.
He opened his laptop and began researching the Amery family, typing their name into every search engine he could think of. Hospital chains, factories, franchises—everywhere he looked, there was evidence of immense wealth, power, and influence. The articles were carefully neutral, highlighting their philanthropy and business acumen, but behind the polished words, Daniel sensed an unyielding world of privilege and strict rules—rules his father had broken.
He discovered the hospitals his family owned, sprawling complexes with state-of-the-art equipment. Factories producing everything from textiles to electronics. Franchises with a global presence. It was a world of privileges he had never imagined, a world that had existed parallel to his own struggles.
Then, he searched for his father. Pictures of a younger Rufus Amery appeared—smiling at charity galas, cutting ribbons at grand openings, meeting with powerful business figures. Daniel felt a pang of jealousy and heartbreak. This was a side of his father he had never known, a life full of opportunity and influence, and yet his father had chosen… him. Tears came unbidden. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. All the sacrifices, the nights spent worrying over his father, the dreams he had set aside—had it all been for nothing? He had fought so hard, yet the world he was discovering now was a realm he could never belong to.
He scrolled further and found old interviews, statements about philanthropy, family values, and high society etiquette. And there it was—small hints of the rebellion Daniel’s father had displayed, subtly defying family expectations. Daniel’s chest tightened as he realized how much his father had sacrificed for the life Daniel had lived. He had traded wealth, safety, and status for love.
He felt anger rise, a raw and bitter fury at the injustice. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered to the empty room. “Why didn’t anyone tell me the truth?”
His thoughts drifted to his father, lying weak in the hospital bed, fighting for life while shielding Daniel from a world that now seemed impossibly vast and dangerous. Daniel felt a crack in his resolve, a fracture of hopelessness he had never allowed himself to feel. The exhaustion of months, the guilt, and the disbelief collided in a storm of emotion, leaving him trembling and raw.
And yet, in the midst of the chaos, a spark of determination flared. His father needed him. No matter how unfair, no matter how impossible the world he had just glimpsed seemed, he could not collapse now. Not when his father’s life was still in the balance.
Daniel wiped his tears and pressed his hands to the desk, grounding himself. He would need a plan. He would need to learn everything about this powerful family, understand their rules, and prepare for whatever challenges were coming. The world of the Amerys was a dangerous one, but he would navigate it—not just for himself, but for the father who had always protected him.
Finally, he looked down at the card Peter had given him. The edges were sharp, the font formal and precise. Daniel traced the letters with his finger, imagining the conversation he might have to have if he accepted this impossible path. Fear and purpose collided in his chest, but amidst the fear, there was also clarity: he would have to make a choice, and he would have to live with the consequences.
For the first time, he allowed himself to feel both terror and resolve simultaneously. The road ahead was uncertain and terrifying, but Daniel knew one thing with crystal clarity: he would fight. He had no choice.
Daniel got up from his desk, the air in his Brooklyn apartment felt heavy, as if the city itself was holding its breath. After hours of researching, poring over documents and photographs, he knew he couldn’t stay there any longer. He needed to see his father, look him in the eyes, and confront him. He needed to understand why he had kept such enormous secrets for so many years.
Daniel grabbed his coat and slung his backpack over his shoulder, with the laptop that contained all the information, all the truth.
The subway station was bustling, a cacophony of footsteps, announcements, and the low rumble of trains beneath the city streets. Daniel shoved his way through the crowd, ticket clutched tightly in his hand. The train arrived with a screech of steel against rails, doors sliding open, and he stepped inside, taking a deep breath. He grabbed a pole and let the train carry him through the underground tunnels, his mind spinning faster than the fluorescent lights flickering above him.
He thought about the conversation with Amelia Amery, her words still echoing in his head: “You are a threat to the family… you must marry.” He clenched his fists, anger and disbelief intertwining with worry for his father. He couldn’t ignore the gnawing fear in his chest: what if his father’s condition worsened before he got there?
Across from him, a woman struggled with a stroller, a little boy tugging at her coat. Daniel’s gaze softened. Life went on, even amidst chaos and secrets. A few moments later, the train slowed, the familiar jolt signaling his stop. He stepped out, the cool evening air brushing against his face as he made his way through the crowded streets to the hospital.
The hospital’s glass doors slid open automatically, and a rush of warm air greeted him. The receptionist looked up with a smile that seemed to hold genuine kindness.
—Good evening. How can I help you? —asked a nurse with a kind smile.
—I… I’m here to see my father, Rufus Humphrey. He’s in room 712 —Daniel said, his voice thick with emotion.
The nurse’s eyes softened as she studied him for a moment.
—I thought I might recognize you. You’re Daniel, right? I’m Teresa, one of the nurses here. I remember your visits from a few months ago. Follow me, please —she said, her voice calm and comforting.
Walking through the pristine hallways, Daniel noticed the subtle but meticulous care in every detail: nurses adjusting beds, sanitizing stations, soft lights that didn’t overwhelm, and the calm murmur of conversation that felt more like reassurance than work. Teresa walked beside him, occasionally chatting in small talk to ease the tension.
—How has your father been? —she asked gently.
—I… he’s been getting weaker. The treatments are expensive, and I’ve been trying to manage everything on my own… —Daniel admitted.
Teresa nodded understandingly.
—He’s in good hands now. We’ll make sure he’s comfortable. You don’t have to carry all of it alone, Daniel. —
Daniel looked at her, his chest still tight with worry. “What do you mean… ‘not alone’? Who are you talking about?”
Teresa gave a small, reassuring smile. “Mrs. Amery sent me. She knows about your father’s condition… and she wanted someone here to help take care of him while you… make your decision.”
Daniel’s eyes widened. “Wait… she sent you? To me? To my father?”
“Yes,” Teresa said softly, adjusting Rufus’s blankets. “She wanted someone you could trust—well, as much as you can trust someone in a hospital—to keep an eye on things while you… figure out your next steps.”
Daniel ran a hand through his hair, leaning back slightly against the chair. “So… she’s… involved in all of this. She’s behind… all the things she told me?” His voice cracked with disbelief. “The marriage… the ultimatum…”
Teresa shook her head gently. “I’m not here to control you, Daniel. My job is to make sure your father is stable, that he’s safe, and that you’re not left completely alone in this. That’s all.”
He exhaled, a mixture of relief and frustration washing over him. “I… I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted quietly. “It feels like everything in my life is being dictated by people I barely know. And now… I’m supposed to decide about marriage, about my life, and all I can think about is keeping my dad alive.”
Teresa placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s overwhelming. And you don’t have to pretend to be strong all the time. You’re allowed to feel scared, angry… uncertain. That’s normal. But right now, your father needs you, and having someone here to help doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay… okay. I’ll… I’ll try to focus on him. For now. Thank you, Teresa. Really.”
She gave him a small, encouraging smile. “That’s all anyone can ask of you, Daniel. One step at a time.”
As they approached the room, Daniel caught sight of his father, lying pale and fragile under the white sheets, yet there was a faint spark of recognition in Rufus’s eyes when he noticed his son.
—Dad… —Daniel whispered, stepping closer.
—Daniel… —Rufus murmured, weak but alert, his hand lifting slightly.
A nurse immediately adjusted the pillow behind Rufus’s head, while another checked his IV with a gentle smile, and a doctor quietly verified his chart. The coordinated care, the professionalism, the warmth of the staff—it was all a small comfort, a reminder that his father was in good hands.
—It’s… been a long day, hasn’t it? —Daniel said, attempting small talk to bridge the tension—. Subway was packed, people everywhere… I felt like I was moving through a storm just to get here.
Rufus let out a faint chuckle, the sound raspy but genuine.
—I can imagine… New York’s chaos hasn’t changed much over the years. You… you’ve grown into a strong man, Daniel. Even your mother would have been proud.
Daniel’s throat tightened, the weight of her absence and the years of secrecy pressing down on him. He squeezed his father’s hand gently.
—I know who you really are —he said, the words sharp, cutting through the sterile hospital air. —I know about the Amery family, about the life you’ve hidden from me. About my mother… and everything you never told me.
Rufus’s face paled slightly, and his hands twitched against the sheets.
—I… Daniel, I wanted to protect you —he whispered, voice cracking. —I never wanted you to… to have to live under their rules, to carry a name that comes with so much baggage and danger.
—Protect me? —Daniel’s voice rose, a mix of frustration and hurt. —You lied to me for twenty-four years! You let me grow up thinking I was just… ordinary, when all this time I was part of something… something enormous, and dangerous! And for what? To keep me safe from them? Or from you?
Rufus tried to reach for his son, but the IV and tubes made it awkward.
—I thought I was doing the right thing —he said quietly. —I didn’t want your life to be dictated by wealth and power, Daniel. I wanted you to have a choice, a life of your own.
Daniel’s hands curled into fists at his sides, anger fighting with the ache in his chest from seeing his father so weak.
—You could have told me, Dad! Even a little! Instead, I’ve been… living a half-life, trying to pay for your treatments, struggling to survive in Brooklyn, never knowing the truth! —His voice cracked, a mix of rage and despair.
Rufus’s eyes filled with tears, and Daniel saw the weight of guilt etched across his father’s face.
—I’m sorry, son —Rufus whispered, his voice barely audible. —I truly am.
Daniel took a step closer, the anger giving way to raw emotion.
—I need you to be honest with me now, Dad. No more lies. Tell me everything… about the Amerys, about Mom, about why you kept me in the dark. I deserve that much —he said, voice steadying, demanding the truth.
Rufus nodded, swallowing hard.
—You do, Daniel. You deserve it. And… I’ll tell you everything. But first… I need you to understand that I did what I thought was best for you, even if it hurt —he said, a faint tremor in his voice.
Daniel exhaled slowly, the tension in his body loosening slightly. He glanced at Teresa, who gave him a gentle, encouraging smile. Her presence reminded him that he wasn’t alone in this, that even amid secrets and betrayal, there were people who cared.
—Okay, Dad —he said softly. —I’m ready to hear it.
And for the first time in years, Daniel felt the fragile thread of connection to his father pull taut again, ready to hold them together as they navigated the truth.
Rufus took a shaky breath, his frail hands clutching the hospital sheets.
—Daniel… I need you to understand everything from the beginning —he said, voice weak but firm. —Your mother… she wasn’t ready to raise a child. She loved me in her own way, but she was young, ambitious, and she wanted more than our small life could offer. I… I didn’t want to force her, so I agreed to let her go. But that wasn’t the end.
Daniel felt his stomach twist, anger mixing with confusion.
—Let her go? Dad, I… —he struggled for words, choking back tears —I grew up thinking she abandoned me.
Rufus shook his head, eyes glistening.
—Daniel. I hid the truth to protect you —from them, from the Amerys, from the expectations, the dangers, the constant pressure. The Amery family… they’re powerful, controlling, ruthless. If they had known about you, you could have been used, manipulated, trapped in their world before you even understood it.
Daniel’s fists clenched, the betrayal cutting deeper than he expected.
—So all this time, I was just… a secret? A pawn? —he asked, voice trembling with hurt. —You let me struggle, let me fight for every cent for my life and my father’s treatment, while… while you were hiding behind some grand plan?
Rufus flinched at the words but nodded.
—I thought I was giving you freedom, Daniel. Real freedom. A chance to live your life on your terms. I never wanted you to be defined by money, by power, by a name —he said softly. —But… I miscalculated. I underestimated the burden it would place on you, and for that, I am so sorry.
Daniel sank onto the chair beside his father, head in his hands. The walls of the hospital seemed to close in, yet the steady beep of the monitors and the soft hum of Teresa moving about gave him a strange sense of grounding.
—All these years… I thought I was just… ordinary. I thought my life was small and meaningless… —he whispered, his voice breaking. —And all this time… I could have had… everything? Family, history… a world I didn’t even know existed.
Rufus reached out, his weak hand covering Daniel’s.
—Daniel, being part of the Amerys isn’t everything. You are more than that, more than any name or fortune. I hid it from you because I wanted you to grow up strong, independent, to fight for what matters to you. And look at you —you’ve cared for me, protected me, fought for our survival when no one else could. That is your strength, Daniel. That is who you are. Not the Amery name, not the legacy. You. —his voice cracked with emotion.
Tears rolled down Daniel’s face, a mixture of relief, anger, and sorrow. The weight of years of confusion and secrets pressed on his chest, yet he felt a strange warmth, a connection he hadn’t realized he missed so desperately.
—I… I don’t know if I can forgive you yet, Dad —he whispered. —But… I need to understand. I need to know everything —the Amerys, the threats, why you hid me. I need the truth.
Rufus nodded, squeezing Daniel’s hand.
But just as Daniel opened his mouth to ask another question, his father coughed violently, the sound harsh and wet. Daniel’s heart lurched.
“Dad! Are you okay?” he exclaimed, gripping Rufus’s shoulders.
Rufus shook his head weakly, gasping for air, his face pale and sweaty. Teresa, who had been quietly arranging the IV drip nearby, immediately sprang into action.
“Daniel, step back, let me help him,” she instructed firmly, guiding Daniel to the edge of the bed. She checked the monitors and adjusted Rufus’s oxygen, her hands swift but gentle.
“I… I’m fine,” Rufus croaked after a moment, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. “Just… this disease… sometimes it takes me by surprise.”
Daniel’s chest tightened, fear cutting sharper than any blade. Seeing his father like this, so fragile, so vulnerable, made all the anger, confusion, and pride dissolve into raw desperation.
“I can’t lose you, Dad,” Daniel whispered, his voice breaking. “I… I won’t let this happen. I’ll do whatever it takes to save you.”
Teresa glanced at him, her expression softening. “Daniel, you’re doing everything you can. Right now, staying calm and supporting him is what he needs most.”
But Daniel couldn’t calm down. His mind raced back to Amelia Amery’s words, the ultimatum: marriage, the family’s control, the promise of protection and the money that could save his father. The choice was clear, painfully so.
“I… I have to do it,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. “I have to marry… I have to say yes. If it means keeping him alive…”
Teresa noticed the shift in him. “Daniel… you’re making a decision because of love, not fear. That’s… important.”
Daniel turned to Rufus, seeing the weak, yet trusting gaze of his father. “Dad… I’m going to agree to it,” he said, voice firm despite the tears. “I’ll marry… whoever they want, if it’s what it takes to save you.”
Rufus’s eyes widened slightly, and he tried to sit up, but Daniel gently guided him back onto the pillows.
“Daniel… you don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me,” Rufus protested, voice hoarse. “I never wanted this for you…”
“I know, Dad,” Daniel interrupted, clutching his hand. “But this… this is my choice. I can’t lose you. I can’t. And if this is the way… then I’ll do it.”
Teresa gave a small nod, almost as if silently agreeing with him. She adjusted Rufus’s blankets and monitored, her movements calm and professional. “We’ll make sure he’s stable. Right now, what matters is your decision, Daniel. It’s yours to carry, and you’re not alone in it.”
Daniel sat there, hands intertwined with his father’s, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on him. The hospital room was quiet except for the faint beeping of monitors, the soft hum of air, and the whisper of his own heartbeat. For the first time, he felt both terrified and resolute.
“I’ll do it,” he whispered again, this time louder, with conviction. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive, Dad. I promise.”
Rufus squeezed his hand weakly, a faint smile appearing on his lips despite the pain. “You’ve always been my son… the strongest one I know. If this is what it takes… then I trust you, Daniel. I trust you.”
Daniel exhaled slowly, the tears streaming down his face unchecked. He had made the choice, but the road ahead was uncertain, filled with unknown dangers and the shadow of a family he barely understood. Yet in that moment, all that mattered was his father, and he would do anything to protect him.
………………….
The hospital corridors were quiet now, the soft hum of fluorescent lights blending with the distant beeping of machines and the occasional footstep of a night nurse making her rounds. Outside, the city had settled into the darkness, a blanket of stillness punctuated by the occasional honk of a distant car. Daniel sat in the chair beside his father’s bed, the faint scent of antiseptic filling the air, and stared at Rufus, whose chest rose and fell rhythmically under the thin hospital blanket.
It was late—far later than Daniel had intended to stay—but sleep had abandoned him hours ago. His thoughts refused to rest, swirling around the revelation of the Amery family, the impossible demand for marriage, and the fragility of his father’s health. Every time he looked at Rufus, pale and exhausted, the urgency of the situation hit him like a physical weight.
Daniel ran a hand through his hair and let out a long, shuddering breath. His eyes fell on the business card Peter had handed him earlier, still tucked in the pocket of his coat. The polished card seemed almost absurdly formal, a tiny lifeline in the chaos of the night. His fingers traced the embossed letters, and finally, he knew what he had to do.
With a trembling hand, he took out his phone and dialed the number on the card. Each ring echoed in the stillness of the hospital room, mingling with the quiet beeps from Rufus’s monitors. When Peter’s calm voice answered, Daniel’s resolve wavered for just a moment.
“Peter Banks” Peter said, his tone even, almost measured.
Daniel’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. “Peter… it’s me. I… I’ve decided. I’ll do it. I’ll… marry him.” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the flood of emotion he had been holding in all day.
There was a pause on the line. Then Peter’s voice came, steady and reassuring. “Understood. You’ve made the right choice, Daniel. Mrs. Amery will be pleased. And your father… he’ll get the care he needs.”
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Peter’s calm, even voice returned. “Daniel… I know this isn’t easy. I know it feels strange to confide in me, a stranger, about something so personal.”
Daniel’s brow furrowed, his grip on the phone tightening. “A stranger? You… you’re just some man I’ve met once, someone who works for a woman I’ve never even spoken to. Why… why am I telling you this? Why am I… why am I admitting all of this to someone I don’t even know?”
Peter’s voice softened, carrying an unexpected warmth. “Because, Daniel, even strangers can understand when it matters. And right now, what matters most is your father. You’re carrying the weight of this decision alone, and it’s too heavy to bear without letting someone in—even a stranger—hear you.”
Daniel let out a shaky breath, his chest tight. He hadn’t realized how much fear, anger, and helplessness had built up inside him until Peter’s voice anchored him. “I… I just… it feels wrong, you know? To rely on someone I barely know. But at the same time… I feel like I have no choice.”
“You’re not wrong,” Peter said gently. “It’s not easy to reach out. It’s not easy to admit fear. But Daniel… admitting it doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And right now, being human means you’re doing everything you can for your father. That’s courage, not weakness.”
Daniel’s throat tightened. For the first time all night, he felt a small, fragile sense of relief. He wasn’t completely alone—someone on the other end of the line understood the stakes, even if only in part. “I just… I don’t want him to die. Not now, not like this.”
“I know,” Peter replied. “And that’s why you’re making the choices you are. They’re hard, yes—but they’re the right ones. You’re protecting him. And I promise, Daniel… you won’t have to carry this alone anymore. Mrs. Amery made sure of that. You’ve got support. You just have to let it in.”
Daniel swallowed hard, nodding to himself even though Peter couldn’t see him. The knot in his chest loosened just slightly. He didn’t fully understand Peter, didn’t fully trust the world he was being pulled into—but for the first time that night, he felt that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t facing this impossible decision entirely by himself.
“I… okay,” Daniel whispered, his voice small but resolute. “I’ll… I’ll do it. For him.”
Peter’s steady voice came again, calm and reassuring. “Good. That’s all that matters right now. Take it one step at a time, Daniel. Focus on your father tonight. Everything else… we’ll handle it together.”
Daniel exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. Daniel hung up, letting the phone rest against his chest. The night had grown deeper, shadows stretching across the room as the dim overhead lights flickered softly. He looked down at Rufus, whose breathing was steady now, and felt a surge of determination. The choice was terrifying, the consequences unimaginable, but it was a path he had to take—for his father, for the only family he truly had left.
Teresa, noticing the shift in Daniel’s demeanor, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’ve made your choice,” she said softly. “Now let’s focus on keeping him comfortable and healthy. That’s what matters tonight.”
Daniel nodded, the weight of the night pressing down on him, but a small, fragile sense of control began to settle in his chest. He would face the impossible. He would endure the uncertainty. And he would do whatever it took to keep his father alive.
………………
The night outside had deepened into a velvety black, with only the occasional flicker of streetlights casting shadows across the city streets. Inside the hospital, the soft hum of machines and the faint shuffle of nurses’ footsteps created a strangely calming rhythm. Daniel sat beside his father’s bed, the weight of the day pressing down on him. Rufus’s breathing was steady for now, but Daniel couldn’t shake the fear that each inhale might be the last.
Teresa had been kind, almost unnervingly calm. She’d checked vitals, adjusted pillows, and ensured Rufus had everything he needed. She even offered Daniel a cup of tea, insisting he stay hydrated and try to rest. But Daniel couldn’t think of rest—his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, worries, and the impossible choice that loomed over him.
He stared at his father, peaceful and pale under the soft hospital light. The man who had always seemed indestructible was now fragile, and Daniel’s chest tightened at the sight. Memories of his childhood, of moments both joyful and difficult, flashed through his mind. The man lying in the bed was the same one who had raised him, taught him, loved him—but now he was slipping, and Daniel felt powerless.
A soft knock at the door made him startle. Teresa peeked in, smiling gently.
“Daniel,” she said softly, “he’s comfortable right now. You don’t have to do this alone. Mrs. Amery sent me to make sure of that.”
Daniel turned to her, frustration and confusion warring with exhaustion. “I… I don’t know if I can do this. I feel like I’m failing him just by sitting here, by even thinking about what she wants me to do.”
Teresa stepped inside, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’re not failing him. You’re making the hardest decision you’ve ever faced. And that takes courage. You love him, Daniel, and that’s what’s guiding you. That love is more powerful than any fear.”
Daniel nodded slowly, his throat tight. He couldn’t speak for a moment. The tears threatened to spill, but he clenched his fists and pressed them against his knees, trying to keep control. The room was silent except for the soft beep of the heart monitor, each pulse echoing the fragility of the life he was determined to save.
Hours passed. The city outside slept, but Daniel’s mind refused to quiet. He thought of Peter, of the strange, steady voice on the other end of the phone, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. He thought of Mrs. Amery, of the impossible stakes she had laid out, and of the promise he would have to make to protect his father.
By the time dawn tinged the horizon with pale gold, Daniel’s resolve had solidified. He would do it. He would marry, not for love, not for desire, but for Rufus—for the man who had given him everything and now depended entirely on him.

Chapter Text

Chuck slammed the contract onto his desk, the echo bouncing sharply off the glass walls. His chest tightened, a storm of disbelief and fury coiling inside him. “This… this is insane!” he shouted, pacing back and forth like a caged predator. “Marry… him? Daniel… Daniel Humphrey? That kid from Brooklyn?”
Memories of St. Jude’s came rushing back unbidden. The way Daniel had worn patched-up shoes, his threadbare sweaters, the careful way he carried himself as if trying not to draw attention. Chuck could still hear his own voice sneering in the hallways, mocking the boy’s accent, his clothes, even the way he laughed. He had thrown books at him, whispered cruel jokes to the other students, relished in the humiliation. And now… now he was expected to ally his life, his fortune, his future with that same boy.
Anger roared through him, raw and hot. “I won’t do it! I can’t! This… this is a nightmare!” He yanked a chair from its place and hurled it across the room, the metallic screech echoing through the office. His heart pounded, fists clenched so tight that his knuckles ached. He could almost hear the taunts of his younger self, echoing in his mind: “Brooklyn trash thinks he belongs here? Not on my watch.”
Chuck’s breathing came in jagged bursts. Every instinct screamed to fight, to reject this absurdity. But after the storm of rage, a cold, sharp clarity settled over him. He couldn’t let his anger blind him—he needed to be strategic. His father’s empire, his company, his legacy… all depended on his ability to act decisively, not emotionally.
He sank back into his chair, running a hand through his hair, and opened his laptop. The glow of the city skyline reflected in the screen, lights twinkling like distant stars, indifferent to the chaos inside. He needed information—about Daniel, the Amery family, any leverage, any weakness. And most importantly, he needed someone he could trust.
Chuck picked up his phone, dialing Nate without hesitation. The line connected, and Nate’s calm, measured voice answered almost immediately.
“Nate,” Chuck said the instant the line clicked. His voice was controlled, colder than the anger that had just roared through him. “Listen carefully. I need you to come through for me. I need you to come with me to Brooklyn, right now.”
There was a beat, then Nate’s easy drawl on the other end. “Slow down, man. What’s up? You sound like you swallowed ice.”
“Not now.” Chuck inhaled. “Two hours ago a very inconvenient thing happened. Mrs. Amelia Amery just sat across from me in my office and told me my father signed a prenuptial contract obligating me to marry one of their family. If I refuse, the family takes seventy percent of Bass Industries. Two days to decide.” He let the words land. “The grandson they want me to marry? Daniel Humphrey.”
Silence.
Nate blinked. Once. Twice. Then laughed — a nervous, disbelieving sound. “You’re joking. You have to be joking.”
“I wish I were.” Chuck dropped the contract on the coffee table. “Apparently, Lonely Boy has been living a double life. His real name is Daniel Randolph Amery”.
“Wait, wait — Dan? From Brooklyn? That Dan? The guy who used to write mean essays about you?”
Chuck’s grip tightened on the phone, his voice low and controlled but edged with frustration. “Yes. That Daniel. But listen carefully—there’s more to the story. His father… Rufus… he ran from the family years ago. Changed his name. That’s why Daniel went by Humphrey. Legally, though, he’s Daniel Randolph Amery.”
There was a long silence from Nate, punctuated only by the faint hum of his own apartment. “I… I can’t believe it. That kid? The one from Brooklyn, the one who… survived all the crap we put him through? You’re telling me he’s an Amery? That’s… that’s insane. I mean, Chuck, he’s nobody’s idea of high society.”
Chuck let out a short, humorless laugh. “Apparently, the Amerys think otherwise. And now, thanks to this prenuptial, he’s got leverage over me. Leverage that could hand over Bass Industries if I don’t comply.”
“You’re telling me your life—your entire empire—depends on marrying a guy we spent years calling a loser in school?” Nate asked, incredulous.
Chuck sank into the leather chair again, running a hand over his face. “I can’t believe it. Daniel Humphrey. The guy who spent half of high school shadowing Serena like a lost puppy, and the other half trying to climb into the Upper East Side as if he belonged here.”
Nate winced slightly. “He… he really was obsessed with Serena back then. Everyone noticed. And, well… he wasn’t exactly subtle about it.”
“Not subtle?” Chuck echoed, sarcasm dripping from each word. “Nate, he basically staged a one-man parade every time she walked past. Tails, puppy eyes, desperate little essays about love and loyalty. He practically invented the term ‘clingy with a purpose, even after they got together, everyone could tell who was the one more in love in that relationship.’”
Nate chuckled. “It wasn’t just that. He wanted in, Chuck. He tried to be part of the scene, even though, let’s be honest… Brooklyn isn’t exactly the Upper East Side.” Nate laughed softly but soberly. “It’s kind of tragic if you think about it. He wanted approval, validation… a place in a world that was never really his. And now, apparently, he legally is part of it.”
Chuck stopped pacing. “Tragic? Oh, it’s beyond tragic, Nate. It’s insulting. It’s infuriating. The kid who used to spill coffee on his shirt before a meeting with Blair is supposed to be my… my husband? My companion for life? He couldn’t even figure out a girl’s schedule back in St. Jude’s.”
“Maybe that’s why he’s changed. People… grow, Chuck. You know that.”
Chuck scoffed, tossing a cushion across the office. “Grow? He’s still Daniel Humphrey. The same earnest, desperate boy from Brooklyn with delusions of grandeur. And now, apparently, I’m supposed to swoop in and play prince charming? Protect him from imaginary threats, marry him because… of some contract? It’s insane.”
Nate’s voice softened. “Look, Chuck. I know it feels overwhelming, but maybe—just maybe—Dan’s not the same kid he was. Maybe he’s smarter, more capable. You said it yourself: he got into the same school we went to on scholarship. That takes brains, drive… determination.”
Chuck flopped back into the chair, rubbing his temples. “Brains and determination, sure. But Nate, he has zero clue about the game we play. Zero idea about power, influence, strategy. He’s a naive little Brooklyn boy who wrote poetry about Serena Van der Woodsen and tried to barter his way into society with charm and charm alone.”
“And yet… if the Amerys are serious, if Mrs. Amery really needs him protected… maybe he’s exactly the person she wants. Unassuming, underestimated… like a chess piece no one expects to move.”
Chuck froze mid-sentence, the words gnawing at him. “Unassuming, underestimated… right. So now I’m supposed to be the knight protecting the pawn who spent all of high school drooling over Blair Waldorf and Serena Van der Woodsen. Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.”
Nate smirked. “Well, Chuck… you’ve always been good with pawns. And you do like a challenge.”
Chuck’s lips twisted into a half-grimace, half-smile. “A challenge, yes. But this? This feels like the universe dumping a Brooklyn backpack full of dynamite in my lap and expecting me to smile politely while it explodes.”
Nate chuckled again, though his tone was serious. “Look, whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. Just… maybe take a breath before you do something you’ll regret.”
Chuck leaned back, staring out the window at the glittering skyline. “A breath, Nate? The only breath I’ll be taking is the one before I either destroy Bass Industries or Daniel Humphrey. And I promise you… one of those things is happening in the next forty-eight hours.”
“So what are you gonna do?” Nate asked cautiously. “You can’t actually—”
“Marry him?” Chuck interrupted sharply. “No. Absolutely not.” He started pacing again. “I’ll find another way. There’s always another way.”
“But if the contract is binding—”
“Then I’ll make it unbinding,” Chuck snapped. “I’ll have my lawyers dig through every clause, every loophole. I’ll burn the entire Amery estate to the ground before I let them force me into—into that.”
Nate hesitated, hearing his friend unravel piece by piece. “Chuck… maybe just talk to Dan first. If he’s really part of this, he might not even know—”
“Oh, he knows,” Chuck interrupted bitterly. “He always knows more than he lets on. And if he doesn’t — well, he’s about to find out.”
He turned toward the window again, staring out at the Manhattan skyline.
The city glittered beneath him — beautiful, cold, unyielding.
Just like him.
Chuck’s jaw clenched. “I’m not letting that happen. Bass Industries is mine. My father may have signed away his dignity, but I won’t.”
“Two days,” he murmured. “Two days to decide whether I destroy my company… or destroy myself.”
Nate stood silently on the phone, unsure what to say. For once, even he couldn’t find a way to joke about it.
The line buzzed faintly between them —that familiar static of tension and unspoken fear. Then Chuck straightened, his expression hardening, decision crystallizing behind his dark eyes.
“I’m going to the hotel,” he said finally, his tone clipped, controlled. “I need to change before I see him.”
“Chuck…” Nate’s voice was cautious. “You really think that’s a good idea? Maybe give it a night, cool off—”
Chuck cut him off. “Cooling off is for people who can afford to lose, Nate. I don’t intend to.” He reached for his coat, slipping it over his shoulders in one fluid motion. “If Daniel Humphrey thinks he can step into my world — my name — and rewrite the rules of this family, then it’s time someone reminds him where he actually stands.”
Nate hesitated. “Just… don’t go there looking for a fight. He might not even know half of what’s going on.”
Chuck paused near the elevator, the faintest trace of a smirk touching his lips. “Ignorance never stopped anyone from being responsible, Nate. Least of all in this city.”
He hung up before Nate could respond, pocketing his phone as the elevator doors slid open. The soft hum of jazz greeted him as he descended —an oddly soothing contrast to the storm brewing in his head.
When the doors opened to the lobby, the world outside was a blur of city lights and passing cabs. He moved through it like a shadow in motion, expression unreadable, coat collar turned up against the chill.
By the time he reached his suite at The Empire, the mask had already fallen into place. The hesitation was gone; only purpose remained. He tossed his coat onto the armchair, walked straight to the wardrobe, and opened it. Rows of suits —each one immaculate, precise, and carefully selected —stared back at him like soldiers awaiting command.
He pulled out a charcoal three-piece with subtle pinstripes, paired it with a dark silk tie and a crisp white shirt. The transformation began —from restless heir to calculated predator.
Standing before the mirror, he fastened his cufflinks —silver, engraved with the Bass insignia. His reflection stared back, confident, cold, entirely in control. But behind his eyes, something flickered —a sliver of doubt, quickly buried under habit and pride.
“This isn’t about him,” he told his reflection quietly. “It’s about control.”
He spritzed a measured touch of cologne, straightened his tie, and smoothed his lapel. Everything had to be perfect —because Chuck Bass never entered a room without making it his.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket, checked his watch, and gave one final glance toward the skyline outside his window —glittering, indifferent, familiar.
“Brooklyn,” he murmured, with a disdainful little twist of a smile. “Let’s see what kind of man Daniel Humphrey’s become.”
And with that, he stepped out —the click of his shoes echoing down the marble hallway like the opening move in a game only he knew he was playing.
The limousine rolled through the city, leaving the glitter of Manhattan behind and entering the grittier texture of Brooklyn. Every traffic light, every horn, every pedestrian crossing casually seemed to remind Chuck of how alien this world was to him. And yet, his mind refused to rest for a single second.
Daniel Humphrey… he muttered under his breath, turning the name over like a formula he needed to solve. The same boy who used to trail Serena like a lost puppy. The same one who thought he could infiltrate our society with charm and persistence. Now he’s supposedly an Amery? And I… I’m supposed to marry him?
His reflection in the tinted window looked controlled, immaculate, confident. But inside, the truth was different: a tornado of disbelief, anger, and calculation whirled relentlessly. He had to maintain composure, anticipate every word, every gesture. Every move would have to be precise; any slip—any hint of doubt or surprise—could give Daniel the upper hand.
Nate’s right, he admitted begrudgingly. He could have changed. He could be sharper than I remember. But I… I always have a plan. I always control the game.
He ran through possible scenarios mentally:
• Daniel could completely ignore him, which would be a direct insult to Chuck’s authority.
• He could appear confident, more mature than at St. Jude’s, forcing Chuck to adapt on the fly.
• Or, even worse, he could challenge him openly, playing with his pride, his ego, his control.
No. I can’t allow that. Not now. Not when everything’s at stake.
Chuck closed his eyes briefly, breathing deeply, letting the tension build and then directing it. Every thought was a weapon, every memory of Daniel a piece on the chessboard. The limousine rolled on; Brooklyn grew nearer, and with each passing block, the anticipation intensified. There was no turning back.
“Two days,” he muttered again, a trace of defiance in his voice. “Two days to decide whether I destroy my company… or destroy Daniel Humphrey. And one of us won’t come out unscathed.”
As the cityscape changed—lower buildings, cafés, and bookstores absent from Manhattan—Chuck opened his eyes. The moment for reflection was over; it was time to act. The limousine turned onto the final avenue leading to the café where Daniel was writing, and Chuck leaned forward, adjusting his cufflinks, ready to step into the game.

Chapter Text

He straightened his cufflinks one last time as the limousine eased to a stop in front of a brownstone whose stoop smelled faintly of coffee and yesterday’s rain. The neighborhood breathed a different rhythm — less polished, more honest — and Chuck felt it like a foreign language teasing at his throat. He stepped out, the world somehow louder without the muffled cocoon of the car.

The building’s entryway was narrow, the light softer, the stairwell carpeted in a threadbare runner that squeaked under his heels. He climbed, each step a small compromise he made for the sake of information. At the third-floor landing, he paused, hand on the brass knob of 3B. The door sat ajar.

He expected mess, or evidence of a hurried life: magazines, a tipped-over plant, a half-closed notebook. What he found was both less and more infuriating. The apartment smelled faintly of ink and lemon soap. Sunlight pooled on a worn rug. Books were stacked on the coffee table—literary titles, not the glossy society magazines he despised. A laptop sat open at the kitchen counter, a page of prose half written and unsaved. By the window a battered sweater was folded over a chair, a sweater not ruined by design but by use. There was nothing showy, nothing manufactured. It was human.

Chuck stepped inside as if crossing a threshold into enemy territory and, unexpectedly, felt the odd prick of intrusion. He barely knew the man who lived here — and yet he had been summoned into his private world by a name and a contract. He closed the door silently behind him, letting the click echo like a small victory that belonged to no one.

He moved through the small space with the studied curiosity of someone cataloguing evidence. On a corkboard above the desk were Polaroids: a messy pizza night, a late-night lineup at a bookstore, a picture of a skyline that wasn’t Manhattan. Tucked beneath the photos was a faded picture of a girl laughing with her head thrown back—Serena, no doubt—the same face Chuck had watched orbit the Upper East Side for years. A pang of something — not quite nostalgia, not quite jealousy — knifed through him.

There were signs of a life stitched together from scraps: freelance invoices neatly rubber-banded, a stack of annotated library books, a single business card for a local publishing house. Nothing to suggest wealth, everything to suggest a fight to be seen. Chuck found he was studying the edges — the creases in the sweater, the ink smudges on the margin of a page — the way a strategist learns an opponent’s tells.

He hesitated over the laptop screen. The cursor blinked patiently at the end of a sentence. He didn’t touch it. For all his impulse to rearrange the world to his liking, trespassing felt… unnecessary. He had other methods.

A faint clatter from the hallway made him freeze; the building’s ordinary noises felt amplified, a percussion score to his impatience. Daniel wasn’t home. Either he had stepped out for the briefest errand—coffee, a delivery, a class—or he’d been lured away by something more mundane: work, meetings, a date. The thought of this fragile, untidy life intersecting with the cold machinery of the Amery contract made Chuck's jaw tighten.

He walked to the window, looking down at the block: bicycles, a dog walker corralling a small stampede, a mailman with a stack of envelopes. Brooklyn looked ordinary, unbothered by legacy or leverage. It annoyed him more than he expected.

Chuck made a decision the way he made every important one: precisely and without melodrama. He would wait. If Daniel returned, he would be there — unannounced, immovable, the embodiment of the ultimatum that had been thrust into his lap. If Daniel didn’t show, Chuck would learn what that absence meant: fear, avoidance, indifference. Either way, he would not leave until he had a measure of the man who might, by law and misfortune, become his husband.

He moved a chair into a position that gave him the best view of the door and the window, sat down, and folded his hands. The city hummed around him like a promise and a threat. He set his face into the expression that had served him well for years — patient, cool, a controlled storm.

“Come home, Daniel Humphrey,” he murmured, partly to the empty room, partly to himself. “Let’s see how honest you are when the luxury of anonymity is gone.”

Then he listened.

Chapter Text

By the time the first light filtered through the hospital blinds, Daniel’s eyes burned from sleeplessness. He had made his decision sometime between the sound of the monitors and the slow rhythm of his father’s breathing. The choice sat like iron in his chest, unmovable and cold.

When Teresa returned just before seven, she found him still seated beside the hospital bed, head bowed, fingers tangled together as if in prayer.

“Daniel,” she said softly, a gentle authority in her tone. “You need to go home. Get some rest. You’ve been here all night.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, though his voice cracked with fatigue.

She shook her head. “You’ve done enough for now. Go home, shower, eat something. You’ll think more clearly after you sleep.” She paused, her expression softening. “Mrs. Amery will expect your answer soon. But I think… I already know what it will be.”

Daniel exhaled, a sound between a sigh and a surrender. “Yeah. You do.”

Teresa placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Then go. Let me stay with him. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

He hesitated, then leaned down to press his lips gently against his father’s hand. “I’ll fix this,” he whispered. “I promise.”

The walk out of the hospital was a blur — cold air, city noise, the hum of early traffic. Brooklyn was waking up around him, and Daniel felt like a ghost moving through it. His decision echoed in his head with every step: I’ll do it. I’ll marry whoever she wants.

The taxi ride to his apartment was silent. He stared out the window, not really seeing the buildings pass by. His mind replayed flashes of the conversation with Mrs. Amery: her calm composure, her quiet power. She had said marriage, but it had barely registered then — a word detached from reality, something impossible.

Now it was real. He was about to lose himself in the name of saving someone else.

By the time he reached his street, the sun had climbed just high enough to make the city look falsely gentle. He climbed the stairs to his apartment, expecting emptiness — the familiar clutter, the quiet hum of solitude.

But when he reached his door, something felt wrong. It wasn’t locked. He frowned, pushed it open.

The light was on. The air carried a faint trace of cologne — expensive, unmistakable.

And then he saw him.

Sitting casually in his chair by the window, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of scotch in hand as if this were the penthouse suite of The Empire instead of a modest Brooklyn apartment — Chuck Bass.

Daniel froze in the doorway. “What the hell—”

Chuck turned his head slightly, his smirk slow and deliberate, like a blade catching the light.

“Hello, Daniel,” he drawled, voice smooth as smoke. “Or should I say… fiancé?”

The word hung in the air, heavy and absurd.

Daniel blinked, once. Twice. “I—what? What did you just say?”

Chuck stood, the movement fluid, predatory. “Don’t act surprised. You must’ve known this was coming. Your grandmother seems to think our impending nuptials will solve all her problems.”

Daniel’s brain felt like it was short-circuiting. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Oh, I wish I were,” Chuck replied, setting the glass down on the table with a soft click. “Imagine my surprise when I learned the person I’m being blackmailed into marrying isn’t some faceless socialite from London — but you. Brooklyn’s own poet, the boy who used to write love letters to Serena and dream about being one of us.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened. “You broke into my apartment to tell me that?”

“Not broke in,” Chuck corrected, wandering closer, eyes sharp with amusement. “Your door was open. You should really be more careful, Humphrey — there are worse things than Upper East Siders who drop by uninvited.”

Daniel’s pulse raced, anger finally cutting through his shock. “Get out.”

“Not until we talk.” Chuck’s tone was silk over steel. “You see, we both have something to lose here. You have your father’s life. I have my company. And apparently, we’re the solution to each other’s problems.”

Daniel took a step forward. “You think this is some kind of joke? I’m not marrying you. I’m not marrying anyone.”

Chuck smiled faintly — the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s what I said, too.”

Silence filled the room, tense and charged. Outside, a car horn blared; the city kept moving, indifferent.

Daniel stared at him, heart pounding, trying to process the impossible — Chuck Bass, in his apartment, in Brooklyn, talking about marriage as if it were just another business deal.

And for the first time, Chuck saw it — the exhaustion in Daniel’s eyes, the raw determination underneath. The boy from Brooklyn wasn’t looking for approval anymore. He was fighting for survival.

Maybe, Chuck thought, that made him dangerous.
Daniel’s jaw locked as he stepped farther into the apartment, shutting the door behind him with a hard snap. “You think this is funny?”

Chuck turned toward him, calm, unbothered. “Amusing, perhaps. I wouldn’t call it funny. Though the irony isn’t lost on me — you, the moral compass of Brooklyn, about to become the husband of Manhattan’s favorite villain.”

Daniel crossed his arms, still trembling with disbelief. “You broke into my place, drank my scotch, and decided to mock me about something neither of us asked for. You really are exactly who everyone says you are.”

Chuck arched a brow. “And who’s that? Enlighten me.”

“A narcissist with too much money and not enough empathy.”

A flicker of something — pride, or maybe challenge — crossed Chuck’s face. “Careful, Humphrey. I’ve been called worse by better people.”

Daniel exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it. This isn’t a game for me. My father’s dying. I’m trying to save him. I didn’t choose any of this—”

Chuck cut him off, his tone suddenly hard. “And you think I did? You think I enjoy being forced into some contractual circus because of a deal my father made decades ago? Don’t pretend you’re the only victim here.”

Daniel froze. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “You’re not a victim. You’re just—used to getting what you want, no matter who it hurts.”

For the first time, Chuck’s composure faltered. Just for a heartbeat. Then the smirk returned. “You talk like you know me.”

“I do,” Daniel shot back. “You were a legend at St. Jude’s. Everyone knew who you were. The money, the parties, the scandals — it was always Chuck Bass. Meanwhile, I was the guy trying to scrape together a scholarship and pretend I didn’t care about all the walls I could never climb.”

Chuck regarded him with cold amusement. “And yet, you spent years writing about those walls. About us. You wanted to belong, Humphrey — admit it.”

Daniel’s breath hitched, anger and shame twisting inside him. “I wanted to understand you people. That’s different.”

Chuck took a slow step closer, his voice dropping to something quieter, more deliberate. “Is it? You wrote about Serena. About Blair. About me. All of us — our world. Don’t tell me you never wanted to be part of it.”

Daniel met his gaze, his chest tight. “I wanted to expose it. To show what was rotten underneath all that luxury and polish.”

“Rotten,” Chuck repeated softly, almost amused. “That’s cute. And yet here you are — about to marry the very corruption you claim to despise.”

Daniel’s face flushed. “Don’t twist this—”

“Oh, but that’s what I do best.” Chuck smirked, but his tone wasn’t cruel now — it was probing. “Tell me, Daniel, how does it feel? Knowing the thing you hate most is the thing that’s about to save you?”

Daniel’s silence was answer enough. He looked away, unable to stand the weight of Chuck’s gaze.

The tension thickened between them — not just anger, but something deeper, darker. The air seemed to hum with it.

Chuck took one final step, close enough that Daniel could smell the faint scent of whiskey and expensive cologne. “Here’s how this works,” he said softly. “You and I are going to find a way through this. I’ll protect my company. You’ll save your father. And when it’s done, we can both go back to pretending this never happened.”

Daniel looked up at him, eyes burning. “You think you can control everything, don’t you? Even me.”

Chuck tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t need to control you, Humphrey. I just need you to play your part.”

“And if I don’t?”

Chuck’s smirk vanished. His voice dropped to something quiet and dangerous. “Then we both lose everything.”

A long silence.

Then Daniel took a small, shaky breath. “Get out,” he said again, his voice breaking just slightly this time.

Chuck studied him for a moment longer, then reached for his coat. “Two days,” he said simply, the same words that had been haunting them both. “You have until then to decide if you’ll burn your world… or save it.”

He walked to the door, paused, and glanced back one last time. “You were right about one thing, though.”

Daniel frowned. “What’s that?”

Chuck’s gaze softened almost imperceptibly. “I am exactly who everyone says I am.”

And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut, leaving Daniel standing alone in the echo of everything that had just shifted.