“Cassian.” Sloane’s airy voice pulled me back to the present. “I left my new lingerie in the car. Can you have Livia bring it up for me?”

She let out a dramatic sigh before quickly adding, “Oh, never mind! I’ll go get it myself. What was I thinking? She’s not a maid.”

Cassian smirked, giving me a knowing look before turning back to her.

Cassian smirked, giving me a knowing look before turning back to her. “No, it’s fine."It’s fine. Liv will get it for you,” Cassian said smoothly, his gaze flicking to me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. He turned and descended the stairs, subtly motioning for me to follow. Confused, I hesitated before trailing after him. He led me into the dimly lit space beneath the grand staircase, where the shadows swallowed us whole.

I hadn’t even realized I was crying until he reached out to touch my face. His fingertips lingered just beneath my eyes, catching the stray tears before they could fall further. He hesitated, then pressed his thumb gently to my cheek, wiping away the evidence of my heartbreak.

“Why?” My voice wavered as I forced myself to meet his gaze, desperate for an answer, a reason—anything to make sense of this.

His thumb ghosted over my skin, his voice low and smooth, almost hypnotic. “You know you’re the one I trust the most, Pixie.”

I flinched at the nickname, once a term of endearment, now feeling like a cruel mockery.

“Sloane helped me secure the Kensington deal,” he continued, his tone frustratingly patient. “I sent the staff home, so I need you here. If my parents show up, I need you to cover for me. Just for a few days. Can you do that?”

There it was. The role I was destined to play in his life—his most trusted, but never his most loved.

Above us, Sloane moved about freely in the master bedroom—the one place I had never been allowed to step foot in. And yet, Cassian and I had shared our first time right here, in the shadows beneath the staircase. Not in his bed, not in a place of love, but in secrecy, where no one could see.

Like the difference between a carefully chosen possession and a mere afterthought.

I had once been naive enough to believe that I was the former.

When I first came to the Montclair estate as a child, I was a mess—unpolished, grieving and completely out of place. The other children mocked me, calling me Cassian’s little charity case, his unwanted shadow. But he had fought for me, stood by me, forced them to acknowledge me as his equal, or at least sister.

Then Sloane had left for Europe and he had convinced his mother to mold me into something refined, something worthy. For him, I had learned, changed, adapted.

And yet, tonight, Sloane had so easily dismissed me as just another servant in this house—and he hadn’t corrected her. He had let me drown in humiliation, without a word.

Cassian had pulled me from the mud, only to shove me back into it when it was convenient.

The dream I had held onto for so long—it had been nothing but an illusion.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to speak. “Yeah. I get it.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, but I didn’t wait for a response. I pulled away from his grasp and turned, leaving him standing in the darkness.

The next afternoon, Cassian called for me. “Come upstairs and clean the room.”

I hesitated at the threshold of the master bedroom. For years, I had wondered what lay beyond this door, longing to step inside. Now that I finally had permission, I found myself paralyzed, afraid of what I would see.

Summoning my courage, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

My stomach lurched.

The walls were adorned with massive portraits of Sloane, each one capturing her in different moments of her youth. She was everywhere—laughing, gazing wistfully into the distance, lips parted in an unspoken promise. It was a shrine to her, a museum dedicated to the only woman Cassian had ever truly loved.

“Excessive, isn’t it?” Sloane’s voice rang out behind me, laced with amusement. I turned to see her lounging against the doorframe, her satin robe slipping off one shoulder, revealing smooth, bare skin. She was the picture of effortless beauty, every inch of her exuding confidence.

She let out a soft laugh, her fingers toying with the edge of her robe. “I used to look so awful and yet he went ahead and blew up my face on these giant canvases. What a weirdo.”

Before I could respond, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Cassian pulled her close, his fingers brushing her skin with practiced ease.

“You looked perfect, Sloane,” he murmured, lips skimming the curve of her neck. “You always do. Especially last night, when you have nothing on you.”

“Cassian!” She giggled, swatting at his chest. “Not in front of Livia.”

He barely spared me a glance, but his lips curled at the edges as if he found the entire situation amusing. “She should get used to it.”

Then, without hesitation, he turned her in his arms and kissed her—slow, deep and possessive.

I stood there, numb, watching as the man who had once whispered promises in my ear tangled himself with another woman right in front of me.

When they finally pulled apart, Cassian’s gaze flicked to mine, his expression unreadable.

“She should start getting used to this. Once the project is secured and we’re married, she’ll be moving in with us.”

Cassian’s words cut into me like a blade, each syllable sharper than the last.

He had once promised he would only propose if he secured the project—pleading with Mrs. Montclair to approve our marriage. Now, that promise had become the bargaining chip for his engagement to Sloane.

Even if he no longer wanted me, he shouldn’t have placed me in such a humiliating position, expecting me to simply stand by and accept their intimacy as if it were normal.

My nails dug deep into my palms. Fighting against the sharp sting, I forced myself to clean up before I completely lost control.

Their discarded clothes were strewn across the floor.

Sloane’s lace lingerie dangled from the bedpost, a shameless reminder of what it had been used for last night. Handprints smeared the floor-to-ceiling windows. The bathroom vanity was a disaster. Used condoms were tossed around carelessly.

Filthy. They were filthy. And after being with Cassian, so was I.

I watched them kiss on the balcony as if I weren’t even there, suppressing the bile rising in my throat before fleeing the room.

I thought living like this would break me.

But as the days dragged on, my pain and disgust dulled into numbness. Eventually, I could even listen to their moans without flinching as I brought them their meals.

For seven days, I waited on Cassian.

Seven days later, he finally saw Sloane off, reluctant to let her go. Before she left, she cast me a knowing smile.

“Poor thing, you must be exhausted listening to all those sounds we were making,” she mused, her voice dripping with condescension. “Don’t worry, though—I’ve told Cassian to add a little bonus to your paycheck.”

By the time Cassian returned, night had already fallen.

I lay in bed, dazed and drained, as if I had barely survived some catastrophic ordeal. Somewhere between wakefulness and exhaustion, the mattress suddenly dipped beside me.Before I could react, strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me into a firm embrace. His hot breath fanned against the back of my neck.

“My sweet little Pixie, once I marry Sloane—I’ll make it up to you with a wedding of your own, okay?”

“You’ve been a good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. “Makes me want to keep you hidden away… from the world. Where no one else can see you. I want to keep you just for myself.”

I jolted awake, my body stiffening. With all the strength I could muster, I shoved him away.

“Get out!”

Cassian leaned back against the headboard, watching me with an amused smirk. “Are you mad?”

His gaze was taunting, as if he were toying with a petulant child.

So different from the way he was with Sloane—gentle, careful, utterly devoted. It reminded me that even in bed, he treated her with infinite patience and indulgence.

But with me? He was rough, demanding, taking what he wanted without restraint.

He used to say I made him lose control. Now, I understood—he simply never cared enough to be gentle with me.

When I didn’t respond, his lips curled into something between amusement and mockery. His voice was deceptively soft.

“Come on, I’m doing this for us. You know me. The harder something is to get, the more I want it. And now that I finally get her… she doesn’t feel like matter anymore.”

His tone was almost nonchalant, as if Sloane had already served her purpose.

“You know our family has strict rules. Your background will always be a disadvantage—it will wear you down eventually. So why don’t we just keep things the way they are?”

“Sloane can be a little spoiled, but she has her own social circle. As long as you stay obedient and accommodating, she’ll tolerate your presence. And of course, I won’t let you miserable.”

His gaze darkened, something predatory lurking beneath the surface.

“I’ll make sure you’re compensated. Whenever you want…I’ll try my best to satisfy you.”

My whole body trembled. Each word sent a fresh wave of disgust and fury through me.

And then, without thinking, I slapped him—hard.

“You bastard!”

“What do you take me for?!” My chest heaved. “You promised you’d marry me.”

The weight of humiliation and heartbreak came crashing down all at once. The betrayal, the broken promises—it was too much. A sob tore through my chest as I clutched at my hair, yanking at the strands in a desperate attempt to ground myself. My voice rose into a scream, raw and unrestrained.

Cassian hadn't moved since I slapped him. He stood there, stunned, as if he'd never expected me to break. But the shock faded quickly, replaced by something darker. His expression hardened, and in an instant, his fingers clamped around my wrists, yanking my hands away from my hair.

“Stop it! Who say you can you permission to hurt yourself?” he snapped, his breath hot against my skin. “You know this marriage is just business. Why don’t you get that?”

My body trembled in his grip, my strength drained. The boy I had once worshiped—the one who had shielded me, promised me forever—was gone. In his place stood a man who had mastered the art of cruelty, wielding it like a blade against me.

Cassian must have sensed my surrender because his hold loosened slightly. His voice softened, coaxing. “Alright, alright. I know you’ve been miserable the past few days.” He exhaled heavily, pressing his forehead against mine as if his touch could erase the damage he had inflicted. “You’ve always wanted to see the Aegean Sea. Let’s go to Greece after my engagement with Sloane. Or Turkey—Cappadocia, riding in a hot air balloon. Your pick. Just stop bringing this up, okay?”

I turned my head away, closing my eyes against the sting of fresh tears.

“Come on, Pixie,” he coaxed, his lips ghosting over my temple. “You’ve hit me, screamed at me—what more do you want? Stop being difficult, yeah?”

Difficult. The word was laughable. My entire world had just shattered and he expected me to sit pretty and wait for scraps? To remain his backup plan while he played house with Sloane?

When I still didn’t respond, Cassian clicked his tongue, his patience thinning. Then, as if struck with an idea, his fingers trailed lower, brushing down my spine, settling at my waist. His touch burned through the fabric of my dress.

“I think I know why you’re so upset,” he murmured, amusement laced in his voice. “Watching me with Sloane must have been hard for you. Got you all worked up, didn’t it? You’re just frustrated because you can’t have it. I should’ve known. I should’ve taken care of you first.”

His hand slipped under my shirt, fingers tracing down my spine. Disgust churned in my stomach, bile rising before I could stop it. I jerked away violently, gagging.

“Get the hell away from me!”

He recoiled, his jaw tightening as anger flashed across his face. Then, something more dangerous settled in his expression—offense. As if my reaction had insulted him.

His fingers dug into my chin, forcing my gaze back to his. “You dare reject me?”

The air between us grew suffocating. I could see the storm brewing in his eyes, his possessiveness boiling to the surface.

“Did you forget who pulled you out of that freezing lake? You owe me your life, Livia.” I flinched at the way he said my name—like it was a claim, a brand burned into my skin.

Cassian leaned in, his lips a breath away from mine. “I own you,” he murmured, deadly soft. “And unless you plan on paying me back with your life, you’ll do exactly as I say. Got it?”

A chill spread through my veins. He was right–I knew him. I knew for a fact that he wasn’t just spitting empty threats. He was obsessive and domineering to his core, willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted.

He had endured years of patience and careful maneuvering just to force his parents into accepting Sloane. And now, he was doing the same to me—wearing me down, luring me into surrender with carefully laid traps.

Cassian never lost. If he wanted something, he got it.

That included the lucrative project the Kensington was about to secure—he could easily manipulate Sloane into helping him claim it, ensuring both business success and the woman he wanted.

A man like that wouldn’t simply accept my rejection. I couldn’t afford to push him any further. So I swallowed my rage, pushed down my disgust and forced myself to give him the only answer that would keep me alive. I nodded.

Even so, I recoiled from his touch, curling in on myself.