Chapter 8-NOT ALL TRUTHS STAY BURIED.

Anais didn’t sleep.

Again.

She sat in the hallway just outside her room for what must’ve been hours, knees drawn up to her chest, the marble floor cold through the thin silk of her robe. The house was too quiet. It always was. But tonight, the silence felt alive—heavy, aware, watching.

There were some truths you could live with. Things you swallowed because they hurt less that way. But the folder in that drawer? That had torn something wide open.

Cassian had a daughter.

He’d hidden it.

And Anais had walked back into this marriage not knowing the half of the man she was married to.

She tried not to cry. Tears didn’t fix betrayal. They just made it look more poetic.

By morning, her robe was damp where it had clung to her arms. Her head pounded from the weight of unslept hours.

Still, she stood up, walked to the bathroom, and stared into the mirror like she was expecting to see someone else. She didn’t. Same face. Same quiet sadness behind her eyes.

She turned on the shower. Hot. Scalding.

The kind of water that burned away whatever softness she had left.

Cassian didn’t leave the house that morning.

Anais found him in the kitchen, dressed but distracted, phone in hand. He didn’t look up when she walked in. She didn’t say a word either.

She poured coffee. Black. No sugar. No milk. No grace.

The silence stretched so long it started to feel like a third person in the room.

Finally, Cassian said, without looking at her, “I’m sorry you found out that way.”

Anais didn’t respond. She took a slow sip instead.

He added, “I wasn’t hiding her from you. I was protecting her from everything that comes with me. My name. My family.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

Cassian finally looked at her. There was no anger in his face. No defensiveness. Just a kind of raw honesty that, for once, didn’t feel practiced.

“I was twenty-one,” he said. “Stupid. Arrogant. I didn’t even know she existed until two years later. Her mother wanted nothing to do with me. No press. No involvement. Just my silence. I gave it to her.”

Anais sat down across from him. She didn’t touch her coffee again.

“You could’ve told me.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to bring that mess into our lives.”

“But you were the mess,” she said softly. “You brought it in the moment you decided to keep me in the dark.”

Cassian leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I’ve made a lot of bad decisions, Anais. But I loved you. That was never one of them.”

She looked away. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Because it hurts more when you say it like you mean it.”

Later that day, Irene summoned her to the top floor.

Not requested. Summoned.

The assistant barely met her eyes when she stepped off the elevator.

The boardroom doors were already open.

Irene sat at the head of the long table, back straight, heels crossed at the ankle, a folder neatly closed in front of her. No smiles. No charm. Just business.

“Sit.”

Anais did.

“We’ve received some questions,” Irene began. “About your recent interview. About your past. About your intentions.”

“My intentions?” Anais repeated.

“You’ve shifted the company’s public narrative,” Irene continued, tone crisp. “Some find that refreshing. Others—threatening.”

“Let me guess which ones Julien falls under.”

Irene’s mouth twitched. “Julien doesn’t speak for the board.”

“No. But he whispers loudly.”

Irene opened the folder. Inside was a list of press inquiries. Gossip blogs. Opinion columns. Some polite. Some brutal.

“Do you want me to apologize for existing?” Anais asked, calmer than she felt.

“I want you to understand,” Irene said, “that this world is full of vultures. Especially when they smell blood. If there are secrets you haven’t told us, now is the time to speak.”

Anais stared at her.

“Secrets?” she said. “Cassian’s the one with those.”

Irene didn’t flinch. “I know.”

Anais blinked. “You know?”

“I’ve been with this company a long time, Anais. Nothing here surprises me.”

“Then why ask me to own it?”

“Because Cassian won’t. And someone always pays the public bill.”

Anais stood. “Not this time.”

She walked out without waiting to be dismissed.

That night, the tension in the house was different. Not quiet. Not boiling. Just… waiting.

She found Cassian in his office, staring out the window like the skyline had answers he couldn’t find in people.

“Do you love her?” Anais asked.

He didn’t turn. “Who?”

“Your daughter.”

He nodded once. “I don’t know her well enough to say it the way a father should. But I care. I want to protect her.”

Anais stepped inside. “You’ve never once said her name.”

He turned now.

“Her name is Lina.”

The word landed like a confession. Heavy. Private.

Anais leaned against the doorframe. “Does she know who you are?”

“She knows I’m her father. That’s all.”

“No last names. No photos.”

Cassian shook his head. “It’s safer that way.”

“For her or for you?”

His lips pressed into a line.

She stepped closer. “You’re not the only one who lost something, Cassian. I carried our child. I broke carrying that child. And you let me mourn in silence while you kept another life locked away.”

“I didn’t know how to bring that part of me into us,” he said. “I thought I could keep them separate. I was wrong.”

Anais closed her eyes.

“I’m not asking you to fix it,” she said. “I’m just asking you not to lie anymore.”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Later, while brushing her hair in front of the mirror, Anais saw the notification light up on her phone.

One message.

Unknown sender.

What else do you think he’s hiding?

She froze.

Another ping.

Ask him about Southbridge. 2019. He won’t tell you. But I will.

Her chest tightened.

Who was doing this? Julien?

Someone else?

She typed back:

Who are you?

No reply.

At dinner, Cassian barely touched his food. The air between them was full of unspoken things, but Anais couldn’t decide which silence to break first.

Until finally, she said, “What happened in Southbridge?”

He stopped chewing. Set his fork down. Very slowly.

She watched the color drain from his face.

“Where did you hear that?” he asked.

“You won’t tell me, will you?”

Cassian stood up. Left the table.

She followed him into the hallway.

“Cassian!”

He turned. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me what it is.”She yelled

But he didn’t. He just stared at her like she was someone he didn’t know how to speak to anymore.

“I trusted you,” she whispered.

“I never asked for your trust.”

She blinked.

“You asked for my silence. You married it.”

He looked away.

Anais felt something shift in her chest.

Whatever this was between them—it was unraveling. Fast.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if either of them wanted to stop it.