The Door Left Open

Isla’s smile faded the moment she stopped outside the half-open office door. The cake box trembled slightly in her hands.

Through the narrow opening, she saw Cassian. He was slumped on the leather sofa, tie loose, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His head rested against the cushion, eyes closed.

He looked exhausted. Completely drunk.

For a brief second, relief softened her shock. The dinner must have gone worse than expected. He had probably overworked himself again.

She shifted the cake box in her grip and took a careful step forward.

Then she saw her. Sasha Marquez was kneeling beside him.

Sasha’s hand moved gently through Cassian’s hair, brushing a loose strand from his forehead with a familiarity that didn’t belong to a colleague. It was slow, familiar, intimate.

Cassian stirred slightly, his lips parting. “Isla...” The whisper was barely audible.

Isla froze.

Then, Sasha leaned in and kissed him.

Everything around Isla seemed to disappear. She stood there, waiting, for Cassian to wake up, to pull away, to stop it.

He didn’t.

Sasha pulled back slowly, unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world. Then she turned her head.

And saw Isla.

There was no shock on her face. No panic. Only a quiet, unsettling certainty, as though she had been expecting this exact moment all along.

A faint smile touched her lips. Without looking away from Isla, she spoke softly. “Your grandfather was right.”

Cassian didn’t react. He remained asleep, unaware of everything.

Sasha’s voice stayed even, almost gentle. “It’s time we stopped making our families wait.”

The words settled heavily in the room.

Then she added, quieter but sharper, “Sooner or later... it was always going to be us.”

Isla’s mind struggled to piece it together, fragments she had ignored suddenly snapping into place.

Cassian’s grandfather. His mother’s approving smiles whenever Sasha was mentioned. Sasha always present at family gatherings, always just close enough to feel inevitable. The comments Isla had once dismissed as harmless.

And Cassian.

Cassian, who had once held her hand and said, “My family doesn’t decide who I love.”

She had believed him without hesitation. She still wanted to.

But standing there, watching another woman kiss him, hearing those words spoken so calmly, something shifted inside her.

Maybe love wasn’t enough.

Isla took a slow step back, then another. Neither of them noticed, or maybe Sasha simply didn’t care. Slowly, quietly, Isla turned away. No one stopped her.

The elevator ride down felt unreal, as if she were moving through water instead of air. The mirrored walls reflected her face back at her, but she barely recognized it.

Only minutes ago, she had walked into this building carrying excitement, imagining a quiet evening with him.

Now she looked like a stranger.

As the doors opened, she stepped into the lobby without hesitation, head lowered, steps steady.

Across the lobby, another elevator opened. Jace Barlow stepped out, holding a stack of contract folders.

He had worked as Cassian’s executive assistant for nearly six years. He knew Isla well enough to greet her by name, to notice when something was off.

He smiled automatically. “Miss Isla.”

She didn’t respond. She walked past him as if he didn’t exist.

Jace’s smile faded. He turned slightly, watching her leave through the revolving doors. Something about her silence unsettled him.

He looked up toward the private elevators, then decided to check.

A few minutes later, he entered Cassian’s office.

Sasha was adjusting the sleeve of her blazer, composed and unbothered. Cassian was still on the sofa, unmoving.

Jace’s gaze moved between them. “Ms. Marquez,” he said carefully.

She turned.

“I’ll take care of Mr. Vega,” Jace added.

A small, satisfied smile touched her lips. “Of course.”

She picked up her handbag and headed for the door. As she passed Jace, she remained perfectly calm, as if nothing unusual had happened.

By the time the elevator doors closed behind her, she already looked like someone who had achieved exactly what she came for.

Jace waited until the door shut before walking over to the sofa. “Sir.”

Cassian groaned softly.

“You’ve had enough,” Jace said.

Cassian opened one eye with difficulty. “I suppose I have.”

“I’ll take you back to your penthouse.”

Cassian rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog. “Give me five minutes.”

Jace nodded. “I’ll be outside.”

By the time Isla reached the parking garage, rain had already started to fall.

She placed the cake and gift bag on the passenger seat before getting into the car. For a moment, she simply sat there.

Rain tapped against the windshield in a steady rhythm.

Nothing about tonight made sense. Cassian loved her, she had never doubted that.

Until now.

Then why had he never told her about Sasha, his grandfather’s expectations, or the future already decided long before she entered his life?

Her phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number.

Her brow tightened as she opened it.

Did you like what you saw?

The color drained from her face. How could anyone know she had been at Vega Tower? No one was supposed to know.

No one except... Sasha. But that didn’t make sense. Sasha had been upstairs the entire time.

A second message appeared.

You’re not who you think you are.

Isla frowned. Before she could process it, another message came through.

You deserve to know why your life began with a lie.

Her heartbeat quickened. A lie?

She reread the words, searching for explanation, a prank, a wrong number, anything. Nothing made sense.

A fourth message arrived.

If you want the truth... Warehouse 17. Tonight. Come alone.

She stared at the address. Old Harbor District. Nearly thirty minutes away.

Her pulse wouldn’t settle. Whoever was sending these messages knew what she had just seen.

She looked up at the glowing silhouette of Vega Tower. Someone had been watching her.

Her phone lit up again.

Cassian calling.

She stared at his name. Minutes ago, she would have answered without hesitation. Now everything felt uncertain.

The call ended. Silence settled inside the car.

She leaned back and closed her eyes. Cassian’s face filled her thoughts.

Then Sasha’s words: Sooner or later... it was always going to be us.

And the message: You’re not who you think you are.

She opened her eyes. None of it made sense, but one thing did, she needed answers.

She started the engine. The rain intensified as Isla pulled out of the garage and onto the nearly empty streets.

Her thoughts wouldn’t settle. Whoever had sent those messages knew too much.

Her phone rang again.

Cassian Calling.

A faint, fragile hope flickered in her chest. Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe she had misunderstood everything.

She reached for the phone.

The traffic light ahead turned yellow. Instinctively, she pressed the brake. The pedal sank straight to the floor.

Her breath caught. “No...”

She pressed again. Nothing. She pumped harder. Still nothing.

Cold fear spread through her chest.

Her phone slipped from her hand, sliding beneath the seat.

At that exact moment, the messages flashed through her mind.

Then... Warehouse 17.

Her eyes widened. Someone had done this on purpose.

“Cassian...” The whisper escaped her lips.

Headlights burst through the rain ahead.

She jerked both hands back onto the steering wheel. The car wouldn’t slow.

She yanked the handbrake. The rear tires locked. The car spun violently across the rain-slicked road.

Darkness closed in.

“No...!”

The bridge rushed toward her. The guardrail filled the windshield. Metal screamed. Glass shattered.

For one impossible second, everything went weightless. Then the car broke through the barrier and plunged into the darkness below.

The river swallowed it whole.

Above the storm, inside Vega Tower, Cassian stood by the window of his office, phone pressed to his ear.

He listened. He waited... until the ringing finally stopped.