LITTLE MISS PETTY

45. MADNESS.

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**AGES SEVENTEEN TO EIGHTEEN**

DANIEL'S P.O.V:

Madness.

The state of being mentally ill, especially severely.

But that was not what I felt. It felt more than that. May I be allowed to ask a question?

Have you ever seen a mad person drive on the highway?

Have you?

Well if you haven't, you could ask the people that were with me on the road as I drove back to the place I was supposed to call home. But that place was nothing but a homing beacon of my childhood darkness. And now, the only person that I could say was my light, my sanity, was there.

I was just about to cross a gate when I received a phone about a scenario I only thought was possible in my dreams. But there it was, coming to pass like a daymare come true.

"May I help you?" The hefty security guard in black with a Bluetooth set connected to his ear and a walkie talkie in his hand said as he gazed at me with confusion.

"I'm Daniel Snow." I mentioned as I tried to relax my muscles. And no, I wasn't scared or terrified. I just needed to calm down because what I was about to do needed my mouth to be tamed and tailored into that of a teenager that was taught how to respect their elders irrespective of them being a fuck up or not.

"You're a friend of Kylie?" He arched his brow.

I looked passed him to the gate I usually hopped over but never openly passed through. "I'm here to see Ambassador Carlos Williamson; I believe this is his residence. And don't worry, I'm not a paid assassin. I'm acquainted with his three daughters; most especially the first. If you don't believe me, you could call Kylie and she'll tell you to let me through." I deadpanned without blinking an eye.

From the expression of the guard, he must have wondered which stupid rich kid was this that thought he could just easily see the famous Ambassador Williamson.

He told me he would be back as he began to speak through his walkie talkie while walking away from my car as the other guards searched the trunk.

My fingers tapped on the horn of my Mercedes steering wheel as I pondered on how this eventful meeting was about to pan out. Who knows? He could send these hefty men at the gates at me for telling him of how much of a horrible Father he was for selling his daughter away. Which Father would happily smile at a boy with a stoic expression coming to him and telling him straight to his face that he was staking a claim upon his seventeen year old daughter?

I know I wouldn't, but I digress.

Although I probably would get pounced on, it was for the greater good. I wasn't going to back down in getting Chloé back. I knew she probably hated me for never answering her question on what we were. But the truth was that since that night, I had been planning on meeting Carlos one on one. I couldn't give a fuck if he was a hot shot Ambassador the U.N was splashing money on like it was a festival of spraying dollars. He took my Chloé from me and that was all that mattered. I could have told her my plan but I didn't fully trust her after what she did last time. Plus I wanted her to suffer a little bit with suspense and anxiety. But all for the greater good.