Mr. Denver: The Version You Didn't Hear - Chapter #6 - by Yan Stellar

The soft knock on my office door came right on time, two sharp taps. It was the last one I’d hear from her.

I didn’t look up right away. I’d been trying not to look at the door all morning. Instead, I buried myself in contract reviews, site issues, calendar reorganizations, anything to keep my thoughts from circling back to the fact that today, Dakota Lennix was leaving.

When she stepped in, I finally glanced up.

She was holding nothing but a small cardboard box, her last. The others were already gone. Her office, emptied. Her presence, already fading. She looked around the room briefly before sitting down across from me, exactly like she had a thousand times before.

But this time was different. This time, I let the silence hang too long. I folded my arms, staring at her, and let the words fall like bricks.

“I’m disappointed, Dakota. I can’t believe you’re just throwing your responsibilities away like this.” She blinked, but her expression didn’t crack.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Denver. It’s something I can’t control. I have to go back to LA as soon as possible. I don’t want to risk anything.” I didn’t like that answer. I didn’t like any of this. I’d depended on her for five years. Not just for schedules or reports or perfect coffee. For structure. For reliability. For silence when I needed it and resistance when I didn’t want to admit I did.

And now she was walking out of my office, out of my life, like it was a minor errand.

“You know that I depend on you for my work all the time,” I said, my voice cold, even to my own ears. “And I just want to say that we’re not ending this on good terms, Dakota.”

She nodded slightly, eyes steady. “If I could stay, I would. But I can’t. It’s an emergency. I can’t avoid it.”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, rubbing the tension from my temple. “When do you go?”

“Tonight, Mr. Denver.”

That fast. She was really doing this.

I opened my drawer and pulled out the envelope I’d prepared an hour ago. I slid it across the desk without a word. She picked it up slowly, uncertain.

“You worked for me for five years. You deserve that.” She opened the envelope, eyes widening slightly when she saw the check.

“Mr. Denver, this is too much. I already received my salary earlier.”

I shook my head. “You said your grandfather is sick. Consider it help.” Her lips parted slightly in surprise. She didn’t expect kindness from me. Most people never did.

“Thank you, Mr. Denver,” she said softly.

I nodded once. “You’re free to go.”

She stood up slowly, murmured her thanks again, and walked out. She left the door open behind her. I sat still for a moment, then I stood up. I don’t know why I followed her. I just needed to see her again.

When I stepped into the hallway, she was still there, standing over her box. She looked startled to see me.

“Why are you still here?”

“Do you need anything?” she asked.

“Coffee,” I muttered before I could stop myself. She moved instantly, setting down her box. But something in me clenched. I grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly.

“Let me do it myself. Just go.” She turned to me slowly, eyes searching mine. Then, before I could prepare for it, she hugged me. It was fast. Clumsy. Her arms wrapped around me like she didn’t want to let go and for a moment, I couldn’t move.

I wasn’t built for this. Not the warmth. Not the goodbye. She pulled away just as quickly, her cheeks flushed, her breath shaky.

“I’m sorry, I just… I love this job. And the idea of quitting still hurts. I’m sorry. And thank you again, Mr. Denver.” She grabbed her box and walked quickly toward the lift, disappearing before I could say anything else.

I stood there, frozen. Not because I didn’t know what to say. But because everything I wanted to say didn’t belong in the world we’d created for each other.

“Good luck” didn’t feel right.

“Come back soon” sounded pathetic.

And “Don’t go” was something I wasn’t allowed to say.

So I watched from my office as she left the building. Her figure slipped into a black car, shielded by a driver I didn’t recognize. I returned to my desk and sat down slowly.

The resignation letter was still in my trash bin, but the echo of her voice—of her hug—lingered in my mind far louder.

She was going to LA. She’s getting married and becoming someone else entirely. And the worst part? I wasn’t sure if it was just the absence of my secretary that bothered me…

…or the fact that it might be the last time I ever saw her again.

I’d been to Vegas too many times to be impressed by it anymore. The city always felt like a masquerade: too many lights, too many masks, too many deals that glittered like gold but burned like ash the second you touched them.

But tonight was about business and the woman who I was supposed to marry. Not entirely about her, but I guess tonight things will get pretty interesting.

Catherine Ashton.

The sounds alone carried weight. The Ashton name had power, legacy, and wealth behind it — and the last time I checked, a reputation for producing highly independent, notoriously stubborn offspring. The fact that she’d vanished for five years under an alias only confirmed what I’d heard.

Still, I was curious. Who wouldn’t be? But I don’t have time to be curious.

My grandfather arranged for us to meet tonight, but I have zero interest in meeting the spoiled princess. I’ve heard some rumours about her, but not a lot. I know I can’t just judge her by the rumours, but I prefer to just skip the arrangement than have to deal with her.

Tonight, I’m sending my best friend Barry to meet her. He’s going to pretend to be me, make her hate me, make her tell her grandfather to stop this nonsense. His job is pretty simple, and I just fucking hope he’s doing this right.

“Mr.Denver, Mr. Park just arrived. Should I bring him in?” Lena, my new secretary, asked. I looked up to her, “Give me 5 minutes, then send him in.” I grabbed my phone from the table and texted Barry.

Kyle: You better do this right, man.

Barry: Buuuut, what if she’s hot?

Kyle: Don’t even think about it, you dickhead. Her grandfather and mine will definitely kill me and you will never get his support again.

Barry: I don’t need his support, you asshole. I need you to give me that fucking Eastern share.

Kyle: I will consider it if you succeed in the mission, dipshit. Don’t mess it up and report back to me.

I put my phone back into my pocket, praying that Barry can make her hate me. He’s good at pushing girls away since he got lots of girls chasing him. Proceeding with my meeting with Mr. Park will bring me more money and happiness than having to deal with The Ashtons.

I don’t hate them, but I know how the Ashtons always have lots of drama inside of their own clan. I don’t want to deal with it, especially when I already have my own set of problems.

A few hours passed by and sealing a two million dollar deal with Mr. Park was easy. We ate dinner together, and he talked about how he wanted to expand to Europe. He wanted me to join his boat along with some of his colleagues. I told him that I wanted him to give me the full picture and proposal for it so the company can consider the deal.

My phone vibrated, indicating that there’s a text message. I excused myself from Mr.Park to check it. As I walked out from the room, my eyes lit up seeing Barry’s first text message.

Barry: I got you, brother.

Kyle: What did you do?

Barry: Before I tell you what I did, you should really consider seeing this girl. You’ll love her, Kyle. She’s different.

Kyle: I don’t need clingy and spoiled girls hanging around. I have deals to sign and businesses to run. So tell me, what did you do?

Barry: Surprisingly, I just talked to her.

Kyle: You’ve got to be kidding me, Barry. I’m going to get a call from the old man telling me she still wants the marriage.

Barry: No. She’s nice and actually different from the other Ashtons I’ve met. I mean Catherine is pretty private, but she’s cool.

Kyle: If you mess this up, you’ll kiss your shares goodbye.

Barry: You’ll see.

The rest of the dinner went great, I’m sure my relationship with Mr. Park will last long. He and I both have the same style and mindset when it comes to business. After wrapping up my meeting, my grandfather called.

“My boy, how did it go with Catherine?” He straight up jumped into the question.

“She’s great, but I don’t think we’re a good match.” I should have called Barry to ask more details about the meeting.

“Really?”

“I know you want me to get along with her and maybe go on dates, but we both have different views and values.” I better not mess this shit up.

“Why don’t you try to go on more dates with her? It’s too early to tell that you are not suited for each other.” I really wanted to protest, but somehow I held back.

“Not now, grandfather. We both are very busy and besides… we’re still young.” Hopefully this old man stops pushing me even further.

“Very well, I’m going to let you two decide the pace.”

“That’s the spirit, old man.” I let out a sigh of relief, but on the other side he was laughing.

“I’m going to talk to you again, my boy.” He didn’t even give me the chance to ask why he was laughing, he ended the call before I could say a word. I texted Barry that he’s so damn lucky because grandpa didn’t say anything.

***

Later I got a text from my grandfather saying that Catherine is going to Toronto in two days for a charity gala.

Old man: Tim will join our charity gala in Toronto, and I want you to join me.

Old man: Catherine will be there, and I want you two to talk again.

Old man: The arrangement is still ongoing, just because you two decided to focus on your own career, it doesn’t mean me and Tim will stop arranging for you both. The two of you will get married whether you like it or not.

Old man: And I want you to be there at the gala, or else… you will regret it.

I stared at the screen for a long time. Here we go again, he and his antics.

First days used to excite me. New staff, new mergers, new ventures. But today, I found myself unsettled. Not because something was wrong at work, but because Catherine Ashton had reemerged, and she was flying to Toronto tonight.

I leaned over my desk, reviewing the guest list for the Williams Foundation’s charity brunch. Mostly investors and philanthropic aristocrats, the same faces I’d been shaking hands with for the last decade. It was supposed to be a formality. Show face. Smile. Thank donors. But now it was different.

Now she was coming into the picture.

I hadn’t told my grandfather she agreed to meet again. I hadn’t told him about her dinner in Vegas that happened to be with Barry, not me. He will probably kill me because I sent Barry to act as me and lie to Catherine, but he needs to understand that I really don’t have time to play around. Time is of the essence, time is money.

Besides, didn't he say that Catherine still wants to focus on herself? We are both still young and maybe we’re currently on the peak of our careers. I don’t know why our grandparents wanted us together so badly, I’m sure that Tim knows that I’m a workaholic, perfectionist and somewhat a clean freak.

Not to mention that Catherine Ashton’s life has been so private that not a single photo of her has been leaked to the press. The only picture that the public has are her baby photos. She’s cute, especially with the signature Ashton honey blonde hair.

I mean, what do I expect from Ashton's favorite granddaughter.

I looked over the Toronto office updates next. The transition to LA had been slow-rolling for a year now, and with Joseph’s ties to the Ashton family deepening, we were finally nearing the execution phase.

Truth be told, the LA move wasn’t just about strategy anymore. It was about proximity. Not that I’d admit that. My grandfather thought he was clever. Set the pieces, move the board. Catherine and I were the final play. But I wasn’t convinced the game was going to unfold the way he planned.

***

By late afternoon, I’d wrapped up meetings and had the charity plans finalized. The brunch was set in the estate gardens, polished and serene, the utter opposite of what I expected. Usually they do this indoors, but this is much more traditional, more intimate and more dangerous in a way.

Because now I’d have to face her not as a stranger or a business partner, but as a prospective husband who happened to fool her.

That word felt surreal.

Marriage.

Not once in my life had I imagined it being arranged. Negotiated. And yet, here I was, waiting for a woman I barely knew to fly across the country and walk into my world. The difference this time? She wasn’t just a name on a file. She’s going to be my future wife if I don’t mess it up.

I sent a message to my new secretary who is still an amateur.

Kyle: Clear my schedule for the next two days. I also want Gerry to make sure that none of the info leaks to the press. No photos, no articles about my private life.

New Secretary 13: Yes, Mr. Denver. I will make sure of that.

Today is going to be fun.