Chapter 8 - An Investment

"Miss Cassidy.”

I had been so lost in my thoughts while waiting for the bus that the voice calling my name barely registered. It took a second—before I looked up.

And immediately stood when recognition struck.

“Silas.”

The elder Pierce butler regarded me with his usual cold, distant demeanor, his posture as rigid and immaculate as ever. Time had not softened him in the slightest.

“Madame Carina wishes to meet with you,” he said, gesturing toward the sleek black vehicle parked a short distance from the bus stop.

My heart thundered violently in my chest.

After the scandal with Ashton, the thought of facing the old Pierce matriarch filled me with a bone-deep dread. Ashton was devoted to his grandmother, and Madame Carina Pierce was not a woman known for mercy—or warmth. She was sharp, perceptive, and terrifyingly intelligent.

“I hope you have time,” Silas added, his gaze flicking briefly to the small luggage beside me.

“Yes—of course, Silas,” I replied quickly, rising to my feet. I dragged my luggage behind me as I followed him to the car, my hands trembling despite my efforts to steady them.

The ride was eerily quiet.

No music. No conversation. Just the soft hum of the engine and my own thoughts spiraling wildly in my head. I tried to rehearse what I would say—how I would explain myself, how I would make her believe me.

But by the time the car came to a stop, I had nothing.

All I could feel was the crushing shame lodged in my chest and the bitter certainty that no matter what I said, I would never be able to convince the cunning matriarch of my innocence.

“Cassidy.”

I stiffened the moment my name was spoken after Silas ushered me into the room.

“Madame Pierce,” I said, quickening my steps. I didn’t dare make her wait any longer.

“Sit,” she commanded gently, gesturing to the chair across from her as she elegantly lifted her teacup and took a measured sip.

I obeyed at once, clasping my hands tightly in my lap, my head bowed. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure she could hear it.

“What happened between you and Ashton, Cassidy?”

Her tone was calm—graceful even—but it carried a weight that pressed down on me mercilessly. She placed the cup back on its saucer with deliberate care.

“Uhm… I…” My mind scrambled for words, only to find nothing. Everything I had practiced in the car vanished as if it had never existed.

“I waited until Ashton left the country before meeting with you,” she continued evenly. “I want an honest answer. You know I do not tolerate lies.”

The firmness in her voice was familiar. Miriam and I had grown up under that same strictness every time our family visited the Pierce estate as close friends of the household.

“I—I came from my graduation party that night,” I began shakily, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “I went home… even though I was already drunk.”

My hands tightened together as I tried to piece together the fragments of memory left behind.

“I don’t know what happened after that,” I admitted, my voice quivering. “I just… I don’t remember.”

I swallowed hard.

“I woke up the next morning… with Ashton.”

Shame burned through me as I lowered my head, unable to meet her gaze.

“We were both naked,” I continued weakly, my voice breaking. “And my body… it had all the evidence of something happening—something I couldn’t remember at all.”

A tear slipped free before I could stop it, splashing onto my clasped hands.

“I was terrified,” I whispered. “I had no recollection of anything—just the pain in my body.”

I forced myself to look up then, my vision blurred but determined.

“I swear, Madame. I did not drug Ashton. I was too drunk myself—I couldn’t have. I didn’t even know he was at the Knowles’ house that night.”

My chest tightened as I rushed on, afraid silence would condemn me.

“I would never ruin what Miriam and Ashton have. Never. Yes, I admired Ashton for a long time—but that’s all it ever was. Admiration. Nothing more.”

I chose honesty over pride, knowing that a lie would only destroy whatever faint goodwill she still held toward me.

Madame Carina remained silent.

She simply watched me, her expression unreadable, her gaze sharp and penetrating.

And as the seconds stretched on, her quiet scrutiny tore my nerves into pieces.

"Who brought you home that night?” she asked casually, lifting her teacup once more and taking a graceful sip.

“Uhmm…” I stared at her, momentarily distracted by the effortless elegance with which she performed such a simple act. My mind went utterly blank.

“I… I honestly can’t remember how I got home. Maybe I took a cab.” I shook my head faintly, as if the motion might somehow shake loose a memory from that fractured night.

“And yet you ended up in the bedroom Ashton occupies every time he stays at the Knowles residence,” she observed calmly, her voice stripped of emotion.

“Yes,” I nodded, eyes closing briefly as I drew a shallow breath.

“Ashton claimed he was drugged,” she added, her index finger idly tracing the curve of the teacup’s handle.

“Yes,” I answered again, feeling like a child cornered for a misdeed she could not fully explain.

“You also claim your body bore evidence of a sexual encounter between the two of you,” she continued, her piercing gaze locking onto mine until words deserted me entirely.

“Ashton Pierce is the heir of his family,” she went on, a faint, cold smirk touching her lips.

“Any woman would willingly share his bed. Many would seize even a single night with him.”

“I am not one of those women, Madame,” I replied, teeth clenched tightly to contain the searing pain blooming in my chest.

She studied me in silence. This time, I did not look away. I met her gaze with a calm, stubborn resolve.

“What is your plan now, Cassidy?” she asked at last.

“I will leave Bay City,” I answered without hesitation.

Her hand froze midair, just as she was about to lift her teacup. She stared at me, assessing, measuring. I endured her gaze.

“I have no place here,” I added firmly.

“I can’t continue living like this—miserable and unwanted,” I finished, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.

“Does Ashton know?” she asked, withdrawing her hand from the cup.

“No, Madame. He doesn’t need to know. Neither does anyone from the Knowles family,” I replied candidly.

“But you are telling me,” she pointed out, one brow arching in challenge.

“Yes. You’re the only person I’ve told.” I sighed softly.

“I know you wouldn’t care whether I stay or leave.”

She remained unreadable.

“Will you tell me where you plan to go?” she asked after a long pause.

“No.” I hesitated, then let out a small, humorless chuckle. “Truthfully, I can’t. I don’t even know where to go.”

“If I offer you help,” she said calmly, “will you accept it?”

To my surprise, the corner of her lips curved—just slightly.

“Is this the part in movies where you offer me something just to make sure I stay away from Ashton?” I muttered lightly.

“Don’t worry, Madame. I don’t need to be bribed to stay away from Ashton and Miriam. I know my place,” I added sincerely, a genuine smile finally forming.

“I do not watch such movies, Cassidy,” she replied coolly, lifting a brow. “And my help is exactly that—nothing sordid about it.”

Then her tone sharpened.

“I am not blind to your struggle in the Knowles household. You bend yourself into impossible shapes just to please them. It is… pathetic.”

The bluntness of her words caught me off guard.

“At last,” she continued, exhaling as if relieved, “you have awakened from that pathetic dream of trying to belong.”

I frowned, confused by the relief—and faint satisfaction—I saw flicker across her face as she sipped her tea once more.

“It is best for you to leave Bay City,” she said thoughtfully, placing the teacup back onto its saucer.

“Go somewhere else. Find the full extent of your potential.”

Her gaze snapped back to me—sharp, intent, and unexpectedly encouraging.

“Here,” she said, sliding a card across the table toward me. “Something to begin with.”

The abrupt shift in her demeanor only deepened my confusion.

"With your brilliance—your uncanny intelligence,” she added evenly, “you can build something on your own.”

Her words caught me completely off guard. How did she know?

I had always believed I hid it well—too well. I was certain no one noticed.

Except, perhaps, the Knowles—who noticed only enough to take advantage of it, never enough to acknowledge it. No matter how much effort I poured in, no matter how hard I tried to prove my worth, they had never truly seen me.

And yet Madame Carina Pierce had.

She leaned back then, clasping her hands neatly on her lap—the unmistakable posture she assumed whenever business was involved.

“Consider this money an investment,” she said calmly. “And like all investments, I expect a return. Whether it takes years is entirely up to you.”

Her eyes never left mine.

“Just ensure,” she added, her voice firm with challenge, “that I am still alive when you bring me the success of my investment.”

Something about her words—peculiar as they were—rekindled the fire of determination already smoldering within me.

“Leave now, Cassidy,” she dismissed coldly. “And never return as a failure.”

Yet even as she turned away, I did not miss the rapid blink of her eyes—nor the strange glimmer of something unspoken lingering there.

****tbc****