A message from her

Killian’s POV

I stand before the floor-to-ceiling glass wall of my office, staring down at the city spread beneath me. From this height, the endless stream of traffic looks like nothing more than tiny ribbons of light moving through the streets, but my focus remains anchored somewhere far beyond the view.

Three days have passed since I threw Cassandra out of my office, and I haven't heard a word from her since. Not that I care. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. I'm glad she finally understands that I want nothing more to do with her. I don't want her calling me. I don't want her showing up here. Most of all, I never want to look at her face again.

Cheating is the one line I never cross, and the one act I can never forgive. And yet, she had the audacity to do it in my own home, without a second thought.

My jaw tightens as the memory flashes behind my eyelids once more: her lying naked beside another man in my bed. I close my eyes briefly, but the image refuses to fade. I thought she was different from every other woman I had dated. I genuinely believed she was the one person who didn't care about my family name or my fortune—the missing piece of my life. Only to discover that every single moment between us was a lie.

I open my eyes and stare through the glass again. *Good riddance.* I want her as far away from me as humanly possible.

The office door opens behind me, pulling me back to reality. I turn slightly as Calista walks in. Her fitted black dress hugs every curve, its short hem resting well above her knees, while her dark hair cascades down her shoulders. She looks every bit like the woman my parents always envisioned beside me: beautiful, wealthy, well-connected, and deeply tied to our family circle. They always preferred her for me, but Cassandra was the only one I ever had eyes for. I chose her over everything my family wanted.

Now, I regret every single choice I made.

“Hey, Killian,” Calista greets softly, placing her designer bag on my desk.

“Hey,” I reply, my voice clipped, before turning my back to her again.

She studies me for a moment before stepping closer, coming to stand right beside me at the glass.

“You don't have to be grumpy around me, Killian. I'm your friend. I've known you for years—long before you even meetCassandra, so don’t treat me like a stranger.” she says gently, looking up at me. 

“And Honestly, I had no idea she was capable of doing something like that to you. I'm really so sorry.”

I say nothing, unable to force a response.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates against the wooden desk. I glance over to check the screen, but my entire body locks up the moment I see the sender's name.

Cassandra.

For three days, I convinced myself that I didn't care whether she reached out or vanished off the face of the earth. Yet, seeing her name on my screen sends an unexpected jolt straight through my chest.

I step over, pick up the phone, and open the message.

The first thing that loads is a photo: Cassandra in an intimate pose with a man. The same man I caught her with in my bed. My fingers tighten around the device as my eyes drop to the block of text attached below it.

“Hey, Killian.”

I’m not sorry for what I did. I don’t love you, and I never will. I was only with you for your money and I planned to keep taking from you for as long as I could, but you caught me earlier than expected. I don't regret it, though, because it gave me the chance to finally be with the man I actually love.

I’m already out of the country with my parents, and I took the diamond necklace you bought because I know it was meant for me anyway. Don’t bother trying to find me, because you never will. Bye for now.

“Cassandra”

I stare at the screen, my eyes unblinking. I re-read the words beneath the photo once, twice, wondering for a split second if this was sent from the wrong number. I check the contact again. It’s hers.

My grip on the phone tightens until my knuckles turn white and my hand aches. She actually sent this. After everything she did, she had the nerve to send this.

A bitter, humorless laugh slips from my lips. I slam the phone down onto the hard floor. The glass screen cracked upon the impact.

“Killian! What happened?” Calista gasps.

She rushes over, picking up the broken phone. Her eyes scan the lit display, and her expression shifts instantly from surprise to shock.

“That bitch” she shrieked.

“That whore dares to send me a message like this?!” I roar, the sound echoing off the walls. My chest heaves as adrenaline surges through my veins. Driven by pure, unadulterated rage, I grab the heavy crystal vase off my desk and sweep it aside in one violent motion. It crashes against the marble floor, shattering into dozens of sharp fragments.

Calista flinches at the sound, but instead of stepping back, she moves straight toward me.

“That’s enough, Killian,” she says, her voice low and comforting as she reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck. “Don’t break down over a bitch like her. I’m right here. I’ve always been here for you. You don't need to waste another second thinking about her.”

I look down at her, rigid and motionless. The sweet, familiar scent of her perfume drifts up to me, but my mind remains trapped in the cold reality of Cassandra's words.

“I don't love you.”

The phrase repeats like a chant in my head, carving deeper with every loop.

Calista gently tilts her head up, her eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, neither of us moves, the tension in the room thick and heavy. Slowly, she closes the small distance between us and presses her lips to mine, softly, tentatively, as if giving me space to pull away.

I freeze for a beat, my mind reeling. Then, the betrayal, the humiliation, and the dark urge to destroy the memory of Cassandra take control.

I grab the back of Calista's neck and kiss her back, hard and demanding.

She lets out a soft gasp against my mouth, her hands gripping my shoulders. Fueled by a sudden, dangerous impulse, I pull her flush self  against me and lift her off her feet. She wraps her legs around my waist without hesitation, her fingers tangling in my hair as she matches my intensity.

I deepen the kiss, backing her away from the desk and striding blindly toward the door of my private resting suite.

If Cassandra thinks she can destroy me and walk away unscathed, she’s wrong. If she wants to play dirty, I’ll play dirtier. And the best way to make her feel a fraction of what I'm feeling is to take the one person she never expected me to touch:

Her best friend.