CHAPTER SIX

Cassie woke up in the massive guest bed, momentarily forgetting the chaos until sunlight hit her face, clearing the sleep from her eyes. For one blissful second, everything was normal.

She was just a girl waking up on a sunny morning, but as she took in the sight of the room through her sleepy eyes, reality crashed back in.

Marcus. Vanessa. The engagement party. Dom. The post.

“Oh my God, the post.”

Cassie jumped into a sitting position and reached for her phone out of habit, muscle memory whispering "check Marcus's texts," but the moment the screen lit up, she screamed.

"Shit!"

Four thousand notifications. Four bloody thousand.

Her cracked lock screen was completely obscured by notifications, from I*******m to T*****r to missed calls, text messages and even news apps all screaming for attention. The numbers kept climbing even as she watched, the phone vibrating continuously in her hand like something alive.

Cassie sat up, heart pounding, and started scrolling with shaking fingers.

The post was everywhere.

Blogs reshared and reposted it and every major gossip site, entertainment news outlet, and society blog had something to say, some with the most unrealistic captions.

Peoples Magazine had already written a full article. Page Six had a breaking news banner and someone had created a TikTok compilation of reactions that had three million views.

The headlines were brutal and beautiful in equal measure:

CASSIE REEVES GETS ENGAGED TO EX FIANCÉ'S BROTHER HOURS AFTER PUBLIC HUMILIATION

Hale Brothers Go to War Over Reeves Heiress

The comments were quite a sight. Some called her a genius, a strategic mastermind who'd played the ultimate revenge card. Others called her a madwoman, unstable and desperate. A few suggested this had been planned all along, that she and Dom had been having an affair for months.

Cassie kept scrolling, unable to stop even though each new comment felt like a punch.

Her father had left ten voicemails. Ten. Cassie pressed play on the first one and immediately regretted it.

"Cassandra, call me back immediately. This is unacceptable. We need to discuss damage control before this gets any worse—"

She deleted it without listening to the rest.

Her mother had called six times with no voicemails, which somehow felt worse. Margaret Reeves didn't leave voicemails when she was truly angry. She just kept calling until you answered.

There were texts from people Cassie hadn't spoken to in years all wanting to know if the engagement was real or if this was some kind of publicity stunt.

And buried in the chaos, she saw three texts from Vanessa.

Cassandra, We need to talk.

The audacity. Cassie deleted them without reading further..

The speculation was insane.

Cassie pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to slow her racing heart. This was real, this was actually really happening. She'd gone from society's favorite pity case to its most controversial story in less than twelve hours.

Her phone rang in her hand and she nearly dropped it.

It was Dom.

"Hello?" Her voice came out smaller than she intended.

"Good morning, sunshine." Dom sounded annoyingly awake and amused. "How's the view from inside the hurricane?"

"Terrifying. Dom, there are four thousand notifications on my phone. Four thousand."

"Yeah, I'm at about six thousand." She could hear the smile in his voice. "We broke the internet, sweetheart. Congratulations."

"This isn't funny!" His choice of pet names made her skin crawl.

"It's a little funny if you just loosen up a little." His tone softened. "Put on one of my robes and come get coffee. You're going to need it because the war has officially started."

Cassie ended the call and sat there for a moment, trying to gather herself. Her hair was a disaster, her makeup from yesterday smudged beyond recognition, and she was still wearing the clothes she'd passed out in after too much whiskey.

She looked like exactly what people were calling her—a woman having a breakdown.

But when she stood up and caught her reflection in the mirror, something strange happened. Instead of seeing defeat, she saw possibility.

Yes, she looked wrecked, but for the first time in her entire life, she wasn't playing by anyone else's rules.

She was writing her own story now, messy as it was.

Cassie found one of Dom's robes hanging in the bathroom. It was far too big but she wrapped it around herself and padded barefoot toward the kitchen, following the smell of coffee.

Dom was leaning against the counter, already dressed in dark jeans and a white t-shirt that looked effortlessly perfect. He had his phone in one hand and a coffee mug in the other, scrolling through what was probably his own avalanche of notifications.

When he saw her, his expression shifted from focused to something warmer.

"There she is," he said, dropping his phone. "The most talked-about woman in New York."

"Don't remind me." Cassie crossed to the coffee maker, desperate for caffeine. "Have you seen the headlines? They're calling me everything from a genius to completely unhinged."

"Both can be true." Dom poured her a cup, adding cream exactly how she liked it without asking. "The important thing is they're talking. That's what we need."

Cassie took the coffee gratefully, the warmth grounding her. "My father left ten voicemails."

"My mother left twelve." Dom's smile was sharp. "We're very popular this morning."

"This isn't funny, Dom. What are we supposed to do? We can't just ignore everyone forever."

"We're not ignoring them." Dom pulled out his phone and showed her the screen. "We're controlling the narrative. I've already had three interview requests from major outlets, two from morning shows, and one very interesting call from a PR firm that specializes in crisis management."

"Crisis management," Cassie repeated flatly. "That's what we need?"

"That's what everyone thinks we need." Dom set his phone down and leaned closer. "But what we actually need is a strategy. Our parents are definitely going to call and we need to be ready with our reasons and a united front that makes this look intentional instead of impulsive."

Cassie sipped her coffee, letting the caffeine start to clear the fog from her brain. "What's our story?"

"The truth, mostly." Dom counted off on his fingers. "We realized we had more in common than we thought and the engagement happened fast because when you know, you know."

"People are going to say we're lying."

"Let them." Dom's eyes were intense. "The beauty of our situation is that we don't need everyone to believe us. We just need enough people to think it's plausible. Doubt is our friend right now because doubt means the narrative isn't settled."

Cassie studied him over the rim of her mug. He'd clearly been awake for hours, planning and strategizing while she'd been unconscious from whiskey and emotional exhaustion.

"You're really good at this," she said quietly.

"I've had practice." Something darker flickered across Dom's face. "Four years of watching my brother play these games taught me a few things."

Before Cassie could respond, her phone buzzed on the counter. FaceTime call from her mother, Margaret Reeves.

Cassie wasn't sure she could lie convincingly to her mother. Dom saw Cassie's face go white and slid the phone toward her across the marble counter.

"Deep breaths, future Mrs. Hale," he whispered, voice low and steady. "Make her believe it."