“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.

Cassian exhaled sharply, his anger fading into something colder. He released his grip on my jaw, his voice steady but firm.

“You took things too far today. Take time to cool off. Don't let it happen again.”

He stepped toward the door but paused just before closing it behind him.

“Before I forgot,” he added. “The engagement is set. On the 10th of next month, Sloane and I will be officially engaged. My parents have agreed.”

His next words were casual, almost indifferent. “So, behave yourself. Try not to upset Sloane.”

Then he was gone. The door clicked shut, sealing me inside a silence so thick it felt suffocating.

I bit my lip hard, willing myself not to break down. Not to cry.

How did it come to this?

The boy I had once worshiped like a God—how had he become this stranger?

I had believed that after Sloane left, he had finally seen me. I thought he had wanted me. I thought all those years of Mrs. Montclair grooming me, refining me, had been in preparation for a future as his wife.

But it had all been a lie.

Cassian’s heart had never held a place for me. It had only ever belonged to Sloane.

He had been born with everything: wealth, status, the best education. He was destined for business, but when it came time to choose a major, he had gone to art school.

Because Sloane loved painting.

I had followed a year later, enrolling in sculpture. I told myself it was my passion, that I had made the choice for myself, but deep down, I knew better.

I just wanted to be closer to him.

I still remembered the nights he’d take me for drives, the wind rushing past as he recklessly sped through the city. On those rare, unguarded nights, he had promised me—

“One day, Pixie, I’ll paint you. I’ll make sure it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever created.”

And I had promised him a sculpture in return.

Over the years, I had filled his bedroom with my work. Tiny statues, detailed carvings—all silent testaments to the love I could never voice.

And yet, he had never once painted me.

He had told me, back when he first took over the family business, he was too exhausted to paint. He didn’t have the energy, the inspiration. That had been a lie too. Because the moment Sloane returned, Cassian had locked himself away in his private studio, painting her. Again and again. Larger than life, canvases filled with her face, her body, her presence.

If those paintings were a slap in the face, then the past few days had been a blade through my heart.

Sloane offering herself to him and Cassian taking her without hesitation. He had traced her body like she was the only muse he had ever known, while I—I was just the fool who had once believed in his empty words. I no longer cared who was right or wrong in this twisted arrangement. I simply couldn’t do it anymore.

I needed to leave. But where?

A sharp chime from my phone pulled me out of my thoughts. It was a notification from Mrs. Montclair’s private number. I hesitated before clicking it open.

[Livia, I assume you've heard. Cassian is getting engaged.]

[You’ve always known your place, but I also know that Cassian has feelings for you. And I refuse to let you become a stain on his future.]

[We have taken care of you all these years. Despite everything, I have not been unkind.]

[The Kensingtons took a major hit when Cassian snatched their deal. As a show of goodwill, they proposed a marriage alliance.]

[As our adopted daughter, we are offering you in marriage to represent the Montclair Family. We raised you and provided for you. I hope you will take the role and accept it.]

[But I’ll give you time think it through. Give me your answer ASAP]

I stared at the screen, my breath catching in my throat. A laugh bubbled up from my throat—cold, bitter and utterly devoid of humor.

So this was how it was. 

And to think, I once believed that Mrs. Montclair had taken me under her wing out of kindness. I, a fresh college graduate—what did I do to deserve such an honor?

That a woman of such high standing had lowered herself to teach a girl from the low background.

Mrs. Montclair had never taken me in out of kindness. She had never trained me to be Cassian's future wife. I was a tool. A bargaining chip. A leash meant to keep Cassian in line until he was strong enough to take the world on his own. And now, with him at the top, I was nothing more than an inconvenience. A liability.

All those years of devotion, of chasing after the ghost of a boy who never truly saw me—all for what? To be tossed aside like a used rag.

The debt of my life, the so-called kindness of their care—both had become a knife hanging round my neck. 

I had no choice. No place escape. No right to refuse.