Chapter 1

  Cassandra's pov

  

  The rain poured harder, drumming relentlessly against the sidewalk and soaking the edges of my jeans as I hurried through the narrow alley beside the luxurious Silver Claw Hotel. My umbrella wobbled in the gusting wind, barely keeping me dry. 

  

  But I didn’t slow down. I couldn’t. Not with the way my heart was pounding loud and frantic, like it was trying to warn me.

  

  Not from the cold.

  

  But from the gnawing sense of dread that had wrapped itself around my chest since morning and refused to let go. Something was wrong. I had texted Evan four times today.

  

  No reply.

  

  I had called him twice. Straight to voicemail. He had never ignored me before. Not like this.

  

  Evan was the type to text back even during meetings, to send me little voice notes just to say he missed my voice. He would leave sleepy emojis in the middle of the night, and once, he’d surprised me with coffee at work just because I said I was tired.

  

  That was Evan.

  

  Sweet. Attentive. Predictable in the kind of way that made me feel safe. But the past week had been different.

  

   It started with him cancelling our dinner date, no explanation, just a “Sorry, something came up.”

  

  Then, he stopped calling every night. And when we did speak, it was always rushed. Distracted. Like he had somewhere else to be. Somewhere more important than me.

  

  I had tried to brush it off. Told myself he was busy, that stress could make anyone act distant. But even his voice had changed, cold, clipped, like the warmth I once cherished had frozen behind a wall I couldn’t reach.

  

  Now, standing in front of the Silver Claw Hotel, drenched and aching, I could no longer pretend.

  

  His car was parked right out front. The sleek black sedan he loved more than he loved sushi and Sunday naps. He was here. He just didn’t want me to know.

  

  A receptionist tried to intercept me the moment I entered the gleaming marble lobby. “Ma’am, you can’t go up without…”

  

  “I won’t be long,” I said, gripping my umbrella tighter, my voice low but firm. I didn’t wait for permission. I didn’t need it.

  

  I pressed the elevator button with a trembling finger and stepped inside, alone.

  

  The ride up to the penthouse was eerily quiet. No other guests. No distractions. Just the soft hum of the elevator and the storm inside my head.

  

  Maybe he’s sick.

  

  Maybe he just needs space.

  

  Maybe there’s an explanation. Something, anything, that makes sense.

  

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to silence the screaming thoughts.

  

  But when the doors slid open with a soft ding, that hope cracked. The hallway leading to the penthouse suite was dimly lit and lined with soft grey carpet that muffled my footsteps. I didn’t need directions. I knew where to go.

  

  Suite 501.

  

  The room Evan always bragged about. The one he booked whenever he needed to “escape” the noise of the city. He’d once brought me here for our one-year anniversary. Rose petals. Candles. 

  

  Chocolate-covered strawberries. We had made love until sunrise.

  

  Back then, I had thought: This is what forever looks like.

  

  Now, my hands trembled as I raised one and pressed it gently against the door.

  

  I told myself I’d knock. I told myself I’d wait. But just as my knuckles hovered over the wood, a sound stopped me cold. A soft moan.

  

  My breath hitched in my throat.

  

  Another moan. Louder. Drawn out. Followed by a familiar voice, low, breathless, almost broken with pleasure.

  

  Evan.

  

  My heart twisted.

  

  No.

  

  No. No. No.

  

  Not him. Not like this.

  

  My fingers moved on their own, twisting the door handle slowly. I half-hoped it would be locked.

  

  It wasn’t. The door creaked open. They hadn’t even locked it.

  

  What I saw next shattered something inside me that would never be whole again.

  

  There he was.

  Evan.

  

  My Evan.

  

  Shirtless. His body curved over another’s.

  

  In bed. Our bed, the same room where he once whispered he loved me more than life itself.

  

  I didn’t breathe. My feet were glued to the floor. My heart wasn’t racing anymore.

  

  It was falling. Shattering. Imploding in slow motion.

  

  I blinked, hoping it was a trick of the light. A nightmare. Something I could wake up from.

  

  But the woman beneath him turned and it wasn’t a dream.

  

  Pale. Beautiful in a cold, sharp way. Long silvery hair spilled across the pillow. Her eyes gleamed like golden fire. She looked like a goddess. And she looked smug. Evan’s eyes widened the moment he saw me.

  

  His breath caught in his throat as I stood there, soaked from the rain, my dark curls clinging to my cheeks, and my eyes wide with disbelief and pain. The umbrella slipped from my hand and collapsed soundlessly to the floor.

  

  He barely managed to yank the duvet up over his naked body, stumbling out of bed with the panic of a man who’d just been caught mid-crime.

  

  “Cass….Cassandra….” he stammered, but the words choked in his throat.

  

  The silver-haired woman in the bed didn’t even bother to cover herself. She smirked, propping herself up on her elbows like she was watching a particularly entertaining movie. Her eyes, gold and glinting with cruel amusement, locked onto mine.

  

  Evan rushed forward and grabbed my arm. 

  

  “Come with me. You shouldn’t be here.”

  

  “Don’t touch me!” I hissed, trying to wrench my arm free, but his grip tightened. Panic laced his expression as he all but dragged me out of the suite and into the hallway, the door slamming behind us with a dull thud.

  

  The air outside was cold and sterile, but my skin burned.

  

  I tore my arm away from him, my chest heaving with pain and betrayal.

  

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Evan snapped, dragging a hand down his face, the duvet clutched awkwardly around his hips. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  

  I stared at him. My ears rang, my mind a blur. You shouldn’t be here? That’s what he had to say? After everything?

  

  I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

  

  My hand moved on instinct.

  

  SLAP.

  

  The sound cracked through the quiet hallway like thunder. Evan reeled slightly, a red mark blooming across his cheek.

  

  Tears streamed down my face now, the full weight of what I’d seen, what he’d done, crashing over me in suffocating waves.

  

  “You bastard,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “How could you do this to me? How could you Evan?”