"I need a drink."
Daniel's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. There was a tremor in her voice, a vulnerability that was uncharacteristic. He had seen her wear confidence like armor, wield sarcasm as a shield. But now, she seemed… hollow.
"Regina—no," he said firmly.
She unfolded herself from the couch, moving with speed. Daniel hesitated for a moment before following her into the kitchen. He watched as she flung open the cabinet doors, her movements frantic.
"There's no whiskey here," she muttered, her voice laced with frustration.
"That's because I hid it," Daniel admitted.
She spun around to face him, eyes blazing. "You what?"
"I thought you'd need space and clarity not a bottle."
Regina's lips curled into a bitter smile. "So now you're managing me? Deciding what's best for me?"
"I'm trying to help," he said, taking a step closer.
"No, Daniel. You're trying to control me. Like I'm some PR disaster you can fix with dumplings and neck kisses."
