5

Isadora’s POV

He grabbed my wrist, spun me around—And pushed me until my back hit the wall.

The sound cracked through the hallway like a gunshot.

“I told you to quit playing games,” he growled, eyes wild. “What the hell were you thinking, cutting up Alessia’s clothes? Is that your way of threatening her? Are you planning to kill her just to have me?”

I reeled—by Cassian’s sheer audacity. He actually believed I’d do that? That I was still so obsessed with him, so desperate to get his attention?

Cassian stood there like a man unraveling, fury dancing behind his eyes.

‘Cutting up Alessia’s clothes?’

I stared at him, stunned. What the hell was he talking about?

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen—Kai.

Cassian snatched it out of my hand before I could blink.

“This your so-called boyfriend?” he snapped, waving the phone like it was Exhibit A. “You already have a man, and yet you're still obsessed with sabotaging my relationship? What is it, Isadora—are you that desperate for attention?”

His voice dropped, deadly. “Should I answer him? Tell him what you've done?”

I stepped forward, snatching the phone back. “No. I didn’t do anything. And I don’t have time for whatever fantasy drama you and Alessia are acting out.”

I turned to leave—but Cassian wasn’t finished.

He grabbed my wrist, hard, and dragged me down the hall.

“If you’re having trouble remembering what you’ve done, let me help jog your memory.”

He didn’t stop until we reached the guest room—their room. He shoved the door open.

It looked like a crime scene in there.

Shredded fabrics littered the floor. Designer heels kicked into corners. Every inch of the room was torn apart. But the worst of it? Alessia’s gowns—dozens of them—ripped to ribbons. Including the one she wore on my birthday.

“See?” Cassian spat. “Still want to play innocent? Still want to lie? Who else could’ve done this? Your maid? Your brother? Or maybe you think Alessia cut up her own clothes and pinned it on you?”

That last part wasn’t impossible. Alessia had thrown herself down the stairs last time and cried that I’d pushed her.

Before I could speak, the bathroom door opened.

Alessia stepped out, wrapped in a silk robe, eyes red and voice trembling.

“Please, Isadora,” she whispered, “I know you don’t like me, but destroying all my clothes? That’s cruel… even for you.”

She pressed herself into Cassian’s side like some tragic heroine. “Babe, let’s just leave. I don’t feel safe here anymore. What if she… hurts me?”

Cassian pulled her close, glaring at me like I was a monster. “We’ll leave, don’t worry. Who the hell wants to stay under the same roof as a crazy woman?”

He turned to me, voice cold. “But before we go, I think it's only fair you get a taste of your own medicine. Women like you shouldn’t be allowed to walk away thinking they’re untouchable.”

What the hell does that mean?

“I told you—I didn’t do this,” I said, trying to stay calm. “I don’t have time to watch the two of you put on a soap opera.”

I started to leave.

“Stop her,” Cassian barked.

One of his guards stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

I froze.

“You do realize this is my house?” I said, eyes flashing toward the guard. “You’re all guests. You don’t have the right to stop me.”

The guard hesitated—until Cassian’s voice cut through again.

“Stop her. I’ll take full responsibility.”

He smiled at me, slow and poisonous.

“I’m your brother’s guest, not yours. And your precious casinos still rely on my contacts. If anything, it’s you who should be treating me nicely, Isadora.”

Alessia played the part of peacekeeper then, brushing her fingers over Cassian’s arm. “Cassian, let it go. Isadora probably just… snapped. It’s not worth it.”

Cassian turned to her, voice like steel. “Not worth it? This wasn’t a prank. It was a threat. And I intend to respond the same way.”

I took a step back. “What do you want?”

He turned toward me slowly, a terrifying calm settling over his features. And then—he smiled.

“I’m not going to cut your entire wardrobe,” he said, dark amusement dancing in his voice. “Just the one you’re wearing right now.”

My heart stopped.

He was serious.

That twisted smile stayed on his face as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a blade like it was nothing more than a toy.

He looked like the mafia heir he truly was now—untouchable, dangerous, drunk on control.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I warned, voice low. “You’re crossing a line, Cassian.”

He stepped closer.

“Oh, please,” Cassian sneered. “Don’t act so innocent. You brought this on yourself the moment you decided to play games with Alessia.”

He lifted his hand in a casual, almost bored wave. “Hold her still. Let’s help Miss Isadora Marcellus learn some manners.”

His guard grabbed me hard, pinning my arms like I was nothing but a rag doll.

“No,” I breathed. Then louder—“No! You wouldn’t dare!” I struggled, panic clawing its way into my chest. “Cassian, I gave you everything you wanted. Why are you still haunting me? What more do you want from me?”

I knew he was a monster. But never in my worst nightmares did I think he’d turn this on me.

“Stop!”

“Stop!”

The word cracked through the hallway in unison—two voices, full of fury.

Kai. And Damian.

Damian reached me first, fury lighting up his entire face as he slammed his fist into the guard’s jaw, sending him sprawling.

“Get your damn hands off my sister,” Damian snapped. “You’re a guest in this house, Cassian. Not a goddamn king.”

Kai’s voice was quieter—but far colder. “Mr. Cross,” he said coolly, eyes locked on Cassian, “what exactly were you planning to do to my girlfriend?”

Cassian turned, his face darkening. “Girlfriend?” he repeated. Then his gaze flicked back to me, sharp as glass. “So it’s true. You’re with him—Kai Drenner.”

He paused, sneering. “Izzy misbehaved today. I was simply teaching her a lesson.”