Chapter 4

Cassandra's pov

  

  Darius turned slightly, his hand already reaching for the edge of the hallway, like this whole conversation had drained all his patience. His voice was cold, sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.

  

  “I’m assuming the money I gave you back there isn’t enough,” he said without even looking at me. “And this is your way of asking for more. Fine. I’ll have my maids hand you another bundle on your way out.”

  

  His tone was icy, full of sheer indifference, and it hit me like a slap right across the face. Before I could even get my thoughts together or say anything, he just turned fully away and walked down the corridor with that same unwavering stride, straight-backed, purposeful, like a man who never once questions where he’s going.

  

  “You didn’t even ask my name, dickhead!” I yelled after him, my voice sharp and loud, echoing through the hall like a stone thrown hard against a wall. “It’s Cassandra!”

  

  But he didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause or flinch. He rounded a corner and disappeared, leaving only the faint sound of his footsteps behind.

  

  I stood there frozen for a moment, blinking back the sudden sting of frustration and fury in my eyes. My breath came quick and jagged, sharp pulls filled with anger.

  

  What a bloody bastard, I muttered under my breath. Just like Evan. Exactly like him.

  

  My hands clenched into fists at my sides. The more I thought about it, the more I hated how alike they were. The same arrogance, the same dismissive attitude, the same cold assumption that all I wanted was their damn money, as if I were nothing more than some stray dog begging for scraps.

  

  _ _ _

  

  

  Later that evening, back at my flat, the lighting was soft and warm, fairy lights twinkling against the windows, trying to create some kind of comfort against the cold, stormy world outside. The rain tapped steadily on the glass, like a quiet whisper matching the turmoil I felt inside.

  

  A cup of chamomile tea sat on the chipped wooden coffee table, untouched. Steam rose from it, swirling like ghosts of things I hadn’t said yet.

  

  I curled into myself on the couch, wrapped in my faded grey hoodie and soft cotton leggings. A blanket cocooned my knees. My face was bare, no makeup, just raw and tired, but my eyes held the restless glint of too many thoughts racing around.

  

  Across from me, in that mismatched green armchair, sat Nia, my best friend, housemate, and the brutally honest truth-teller I needed right now. She was small but fierce, her rich brown skin glowing against her pale pink hoodie. Her curls were wild, barely held back by a loose scrunchie.

  

  “You’re joking,” Nia said, disbelief in her voice mixed with a laugh she was trying not to let out. “He rescued you, brought you to his big-ass gothic mansion, and then what? Threw money at you and told you to get lost like some random stranger?”

  

  I groaned and buried my face in the pillow I was clutching. “That’s exactly what happened.”

  

  “Damn,” Nia breathed out, a low whistle following. “That family… You sure they don’t all have some inherited personality disorder? Like being Grade A pricks runs in their DNA?”

  

  I peeked over the pillow, feeling the heat rise. “I’m not even surprised anymore. At least his uncle was upfront about being a dickhead. Evan… Evan played me. For almost a year. Pretending to be sweet, devoted, while he was just using me.”

  

  Nia sighed, her laughter fading into something serious. “Cass, I hate to say it, but I did warn you.”

  

  I raised a brow. “Oh, we’re doing this now?”

  

“I’m not trying to downgrade you,” she said quickly, hands raised like she was surrendering. “I mean it. You know I love you. You’re brilliant, funny, loyal. Any guy would be lucky to have you. But Evan? He’s from that world, silver spoons, private jets, old money. I always found it suspicious he picked you over all the heiresses and I***a-models around him.”

  

  My eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, Nia? That because I’m broke and normal, I don’t deserve love? That I’m not worthy of a wealthy man?”

  

  “No!” Nia leaned in, voice softening. “That’s not it. I just… Cass, he never cared to meet your family. Never brought you to real family events. Barely posted you on social media. Always ‘busy,’ always distant even when he was right next to you. Like you were part of a fantasy for him. An escape, not a future.”

  

  I said nothing at first, staring at the tea, jaw tightening. She was right. I’d seen the signs but wanted to believe maybe Evan was different. Turns out he was different alright, different bad.

  

  “I should have listened to you,” I said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I kept defending him. Saying he wasn’t comfortable with PDA or that his family was controlling. Gosh, I sound pathetic.”

  

  “No, you sound like someone who loved too hard,” Nia said gently. “That’s not pathetic. It’s just… dangerous.”

  

  My fingers clenched the pillow tighter. The fire burning in my chest wasn’t from the tea or the blanket. It was something darker. Hotter.

  

  “I’m not letting him get away with it,” I said suddenly, voice low and steady, full of resolve. “He thinks he can humiliate me, cheat on me, lie to me, and just walk away like I’m nothing? No. No, he doesn’t get that peace.”

  

  Nia blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  

  I sat up straighter, the pillow forgotten, my eyes sharp and cold. “He thinks he’s clever. But I’ve seen his weakness. Darius.”

  

  Nia frowned. “You mean the uncle who insulted you and threw cash at you?”

  

  “Oh, I mean him,” I said, lips curling into something close to a smile. “Because for all his attitude and rudeness, there’s something there. He looked at me like I was a problem. A complication. Which means I matter. And if I can make him care, even for a second, that will destroy Evan.”

  

  “I hope it’s not what I think it is, Cass,” Nia said cautiously.

  

  “I will make his uncle fall in love with me.”