Chapter 20: Just One More Excuse

The sun had long dipped behind the clouds, painting the world in a soft twilight hue as Cassian’s sleek black car glided through the quiet, manicured streets of Elara’s estate. The gentle hum of the engine, the subtle scent of leather and his cologne, and the occasional flicker of streetlights made the ride feel almost dreamlike.

Elara sat quietly beside him, her hands folded on her lap, still clutching the white paper bag from the ice cream parlor. It had been an unexpectedly long and wonderful day. What started as a spontaneous fall—quite literally—into his arms had unraveled into easy banter, laughter, and comfort she hadn’t expected to find in his presence.

Now, as the gates to her estate swung open and the car rolled down the private drive toward her mansion, her thoughts were not on the sprawling house or the darkened windows that greeted her, but on him. She stole a sideways glance at Cassian. His face was lit only by the ambient streetlights streaming into the car,his expression unreadable, yet somehow... softer than usual.

The car came to a smooth stop in front of her door. The security lights flickered on, casting a golden glow on the stone steps and flowering hedges. She should say goodbye. She should open the door and step out. But instead, she hesitated.

“Thanks for today,” she said quietly, turning to face him fully. “I… didn’t expect it to be this nice.”

His gaze didn’t waver from her face. “Neither did I.”

That answer pulled a smile from her lips. She gathered her courage, her fingers toyed with the hem of his jacket, still draped over her shoulders. She didn’t want this to end. Not entirely.

Her hand reached for the door handle, then stopped. Her heart thumped, nerves twisting. She turned back toward him, blinking rapidly. “Wait.”

Cassian’s head tilted slightly. “Yes?”

Elara bit her lower lip. “I… was wondering,” she began, already feeling the heat crawl up her neck, “could I… get your number?”

He looked at her, an eyebrow raised in silent challenge. She rushed to add, “Just in case! I mean, maybe—maybe one of the shoes doesn’t fit right, and I’ll need to reach out or… exchange them or something.”

She cringed inwardly. What a terrible excuse. She’d already worn one of the pairs today, clearly showing she’d tested them all out. But the truth felt far too fragile to say aloud: I want to talk to you again. I want to keep this connection. I want to understand you.

Cassian didn’t call her out. He didn't expose the obvious lie.

Instead, he stared at her for a long beat, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He didn’t reach for his phone. Instead, he reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out a heavy, matte-black card. It had no company logo, no title—just a single row of gold-embossed numbers in the center.

He held it out, his fingers brushing hers as she took it. The card felt cold and substantial, like a key to a vault.

“There. That’s my private number,” he said, his voice dropping to a velvety register. “Call me if they pinch, Elara. Or if you just find another excuse.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her heart doing a frantic dance as she gripped the card.

In the front seat, Cassian’s long-time driver, Julian, sat quietly, but the amused twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his thoughts. Cassian noticed.

As the car glided away from the mansion moments later, Julian risked a comment. “She was definitely lying, sir. About the shoes.”

Cassian didn’t look up, his thumb tracing the edge of his empty card case. “Was she?”

“She already wore a pair. No one wears them out if they didn’t check the rest.”

Cassian finally glanced at the rearview mirror, his eyes cool. “It seems your workload isn’t very demanding today, Julian.”

The man cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll keep my opinions in the glove compartment from now on, sir.”

Cassian’s lips twitched. “That’s more like it.”

Unbeknownst to either of them, a shadow watched from above.

Selene stood behind her curtain on the second floor of the mansion, her sharp eyes fixed on the scene that had just unfolded below. Her fingers gripped the velvet drapes tightly as she watched the black car disappear down the driveway.

Cassian Vale.

Elara had just been dropped off by Cassian Vale.

Her stomach twisted with ugly jealousy. Cassian had always been the one everyone revered. Richer. Smarter. More powerful. More feared. And because she had never been able to get close to him, she obviously had to go for the more accessible, cheaper version: Damian.

No matter how hard she’d tried—flirtation, charm, or subtle games—Cassian had never once spared her more than a cold glance. His disdain for her had been louder than any insult. And now Elara, her ever-perfect sister, was the one in his car?

She watched Elara disappear through the front door, wearing a grin and clutching a small card, obviously happy about something. That alone made Selene’s blood boil.

She paced her room like a restless cat, fury seeping from her pores. She would not allow this. Elara already had enough. Everything Selene wanted—admiration, attention, Damian—always found its way into Elara’s hands.

And now Cassian?

She grabbed her phone and dialed quickly. The line rang once before it was picked up. Background noise of clinking glasses, low music, and chatter filtered through.

“Brother Damian?” she purred, her voice shifting into a sweet, almost childish tone.

There was a beat. Damian sounded irritable, his voice thick with drink. “Selene? What is it?”

She walked slowly back to her window, making sure her voice had just the right touch of fake innocence laced with concern. “I was just wondering… is Elara with you? She’s not home.”

“No,” Damian replied, confused and annoyed. “Why would she be—?”

“Oh! Is that… a Bentley?” Selene gasped softly, loud enough for him to hear. “Wait, no… never mind. I thought I saw—no, I guess I’m just mistaken. Elara wouldn't be with him.”

The silence on the other end tightened instantly. “Selene,” Damian said sharply, “what did you see?”

Her lips curled in triumph. He’d taken the bait. “I mean… I shouldn’t say. It might be nothing,” she murmured, sounding troubled. “But I thought I saw Cassian Vale’s car pulling away just now. It looked like he just dropped Elara off? I don’t know, I could be wrong…”

Damian’s voice was like ice now. “Cassian was at the estate?”

“I think so,” she whispered. “And… a few things happened at home, but… I really can’t hear you clearly over this noise. Can we meet? I’d feel better if I could explain properly.”

Damien gave her the name of a private, exclusive bar—his favorite haunt when he wanted to disappear.

“I’ll be there in ten,” Selene said, already reaching for a dress that clung to her like a second skin.

As she dabbed perfume behind her ears, her eyes caught her reflection—beautiful, dangerous, and absolutely determined. Selene had always wanted everything that belonged to Elara, and tonight, she was going to make sure the "perfect sister" lost it all.