When the bodyguard placed some photos on the table, Daisy Buchanan initially thought they were just another set of her fathers travel brags, but she soon realized they were the knife that would shatter her tranquil life.
In the pictures, Atticus Finch stood beside a woman with a radiant smile, and the man who was always indifferent in front of Daisy looked much warmer, albeit still cold, compared to his usual demeanor towards her.
Putting the photos down, Daisys expression collapsed into a facade that no one could discern her true feelings. She calmly said, "Tell my father that Im aware."
The bodyguard left as instructed; Daisy, the Buchanan heiress, had always been a woman of her own mind and decisions, and even her father could not sway her. This was precisely why Mr. Buchanan only instructed him to deliver the photos without any additional words.
The moment the bodyguard left, Daisys composed expression crumbled, her eyes flickering with a hint of panic and helplessness. After pondering for a moment, she decided to call Atticus.
"What is it?" came Atticuss cold and impatient voice from the receiver.
Daisy instinctively smiled when speaking to Atticus, "Nothing much, are you coming home today? Ill pick you up."
Atticus hung up without another word.
Daisy took a deep breath, unfazed by Atticuss coldness; after all, she had grown accustomed to it over the past five years.
August 23rd, early morning.
Atticuss flight touched down gently, and he walked out of the station dragging his suitcase. The hall was sparsely populated, making Daisy, standing in a conspicuous spot, extremely noticeable.
Daisy ran towards him, seemingly wanting to embrace him, but Atticus blatantly sidestepped, making his stance clear.
Daisy smiled and hugged him from another angle, whispering, "How was your trip? Did you have fun?"
Her gaze, however, flickered towards the woman behind Atticus, subtly scrutinizing her.
The figure was impressive, but the facial features seemed oddly shaped. Daisys inspection made Myrtle Wilson feel somewhat uneasy, causing her to shrink back subconsciously.
Daisy withdrew her gaze, and Atticuss voice came from above, "Without you around, everywhere is enjoyable."
His eyes were cold, not caring at all that there was a colleague behind him.
Daisys heart skipped a beat, and she curled her lips, "My father sent some things for me. Would you like to come back and take a look?"
"Not interested. Did Mr. Buchanan take more photos of my supposed infidelity?" Atticus said, actually looking forward to it. "You can think whatever you want; Id be glad if you divorced me."
Daisy smiled at Myrtle standing there and followed Atticuss steps, watching the mans back as she thought nonchalantly: Atticus, this marriage was hard for me to get, how could I just let it go?
On the way home, Daisy called her father back, roughly saying that the photo incident was purely baseless and there was no need for him to worry about her.
Daisy hung up the phone and looked at the man beside her.
Atticus Finch, with outstanding business capabilities, good looks, a model-like figure, and holding the second position in his company at a young age, it was only natural that a few women with ulterior motives would take notice of him.
But why did that woman seem so familiar?
Back home, after Atticus took a shower, he lay on the bed.
Daisy threw the photos into the trash can, tidied up a bit, and then went to bed to embrace Atticus.
Atticus grabbed her hand in anger, "Get off."
How could Daisy be scared? She clung to him, unwilling to let go.
Atticus turned around and looked at her with a mocking expression, "Youre really despicable!"
Daisy hugged his broad back tightly, feeling extremely uneasy inside, and said, "Atticus, you do love me, dont you?"