The seeds of revenge

Cassandra’s POV

Penelope's hesitation to speak makes my stomach tighten. Whatever she is about to say, the solemn expression on her face tells me it isn't something I will easily forget. I look at her again, silently urging her to speak.

She sighs heavily before finally breaking the silence.

“During your treatment and after the series of tests we conducted, we discovered that you're pregnant,” she says, pausing to observe my reaction.

For a moment, I can't breathe. My eyes drop to my stomach, and my fingers slowly curl around the sheet.

 Pregnant?

The word feels heavy, almost too fragile to exist in the middle of the nightmare I have endured. I am pregnant. There is a life growing inside of me.

“How far along am I?” I ask, my voice barely steady.

“Approximately two months,” Dorian replies gently.

My hand settles protectively over my stomach, and my heart hammers against my ribs. “Is my baby safe?”

“Yes, the pregnancy is stable,” Penelope answers. “But considering everything your body has been through, you will need close monitoring. You aren't allowed to move around much for a while.”

I nod and close my eyes as the memory of Killian came rushing again. He had told me that no matter what happened, he would always belong to me and now I’m pregnant with his child and he’s no where to be found. A tear slips down my cheek, followed by another, until I can no longer hold them back.

A broken sob escapes me as I cover my mouth. My parents are gone, the life I knew has been ripped away from me, and Killian is standing at the altar with another woman. My best friend.

When his parents told him that he couldn't marry me, I remembered how he had flared up and defended me every single time. He had promised he would never give up on us. Yet now, he has thrown away everything we shared over a lie his parents crafted, marrying the very woman he once swore he would never touch.

The room becomes unbearably quiet until Dorian clears his throat.

“Are you keeping the baby?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation, staring toward the far wall. “I can't imagine killing my child. It's the only thing I have left in this world.”

Silence settles over the room once more.

A few days later, I stand in front of the mirror in my room given to me, staring at my ugly reflection.

My heart sinks the moment I look at what remains of my face. Thick, uneven scars cover one side of my cheek, stretching toward my jaw and temple. The skin is rough, discolored, and distorted from the severity of the burns. My once-smooth features have been replaced with jagged marks that render me almost unrecognizable. Staring at myself feels like looking at a complete stranger.

A tear rolls down my cheek. I have been holding in my pain for days, forcing myself to remain strong, but seeing my reality in the glass shatters whatever composure I managed to gather. My lips tremble, and my chest tightens as I press my fingertips against the cold wooden vanity.

“Why?” I ask aloud, my voice breaking. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

My body shakes with an uncontrollable tremor as I struggle to hold back the tide of grief. I quickly wipe my face, but fresh tears take their place, blurring my reflection.

“You will never understand, because you're too innocent for this world.”

A deep voice speaks from behind me. I whip my head around to find Dorian stepping into the room. His hands are tucked into his pockets, his expression rigid and unreadable.

He pauses when he sees my tear-streaked face.

“You don’t have to cry,” he says, his hands tightening into fists within his pockets. “You deserve justice for what happened to you, and I promise to stand by you, and I make sure you get revenge on the people who did this.”

I stare at him through my tears, trying to comprehend why a man I barely know would offer something so extreme. Why are they doing this? I am a complete stranger to them.

“Why?” I manage to ask, my voice trembling. “Why are you and your mother helping me? I know you saved my life, and I am grateful, but that should be enough. Why do you want to help me take revenge?”

He holds my gaze, his features inscrutable.

“We're helping you because no one else will, Cassie,” he says calmly, his eyes never leaving mine. “You have no one right now.”

My brows pull together. I frown, unable to grasp his deeper meaning. A faint, knowing smile touches the corner of his lips.

“You'll understand soon enough. But for now, think about everything they've done to you. Think about everything they've stolen, your parents, your beauty, your future. Think about all of it. And when you're ready, we will help you get the justice you deserve.”

He pats my shoulder lightly before turning to leave.

I stand frozen, watching his back as he walks away. His words loop continuously through my mind. He isn't lying, they are the only people who can help me right now. I have no parents, no money, and I cannot step outside to work with a scarred face while being hunted as a fugitive across the country.

I have to protect myself. More importantly, I have to protect the small life growing inside me.

My gaze drops back to my stomach. At least I am not entirely alone. That single thought gives me something solid to hold onto. I can rebuild, and I can take down the people who destroyed my world.

I take a breath and turn toward the doorway.

“Wait...”

Dorian pauses, his broad shoulders blocking the frame. He slowly turns around, and the intense look in his brown eyes sends a sudden shiver down my spine.

I exhale softly, meeting his gaze head-on.

“I'm ready,” I say firmly. “I want your help. Help me destroy the Hawthorne family.”

A deep smile spreads across his face, carving a distinct dimple into his cheek. He gives me a single nod and steps out into the hallway.

My hands grip the edge of the vanity table as I stare at the closed door. A cold realization settles over me: whatever help Dorian and his mother are offering, it will not come without a price.