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.

I lay awake until morning, staring at the ceiling, feeling like a stranger in my own skin. As the first light of dawn seeped through my window, I reached for my phone and dialed Mrs. Montclair.

“I’ll do it,” I said, my voice steady despite the hollow ache in my chest. “Just… with one condition,” I said, closing my eyes. “Don’t tell Cassian.”

For years, I had never called him my brother—not once. Because deep down, I had held onto the foolish hope that one day, he would be mine. But now, with the future set before me, it was time to let go.

Mrs. Montclair hesitated, then sighed. “I know this isn't fair to you,” she said. “But don’t worry, I will prepare a generous dowry for you. I won’t let the Kensingtons look down on you just because you’re adopted.”

“From now on, you are a daughter of the Montclair.”

I had spent the entire night convincing myself that this was the right choice. That walking away from Cassian was the only way to reclaim the last shreds of my dignity. Whatever promises she made, I no longer had faith in them.

Still, I replied smoothly, “Thank you, Mother.”

Mrs. Montclair knew Cassian better than anyone. She feared that if he found out about my marriage, he would cause trouble. So, she and the Kensingtons scheduled the wedding for the same day as Cassian’s engagement. That day, he would be in the spotlight, too busy to notice me.

Marrying into the Kensington Family, to be the wife of a blind man... I only allowed myself a brief moment of regret before shaking it off.

Who was I to be picky? If the other party wasn’t choosy, I had no right to be either.

The days passed in silence.

Cassian must have felt some guilt. He stayed away, never speaking to me, but he also made sure I was trapped inside the estate. 

So I played my role. I stayed in my room. Silent. Obedient. Like a caged bird that had long accepted its fate, I barely stepped out of my room unless necessary.

Two days before the wedding, gardeners arrived. They uprooted every last bougainvillea in the garden—the flowers I loved—and replaced them with white roses. Sloane’s favorite.

Cassian must have feared I would lose control, so he let the guards take me out for a drive, hoping to distract me.

When I returned, the estate where I had lived for over a decade no longer felt like home. Everything has changed. 

Except for one thing. The tiny room under the staircase.

The servants’ quarters where I had spent my childhood. Where my grandmother’s scent still lingered. Where I had learned how to tuck away my feelings, to bury every dream I had ever dared to have.

I knew then—it was time to say goodbye.

I packed slowly, carefully. The room was small, yet it held more memories than the grandest halls of this estate.

After my grandmother passed away, Cassian had offered me to move upstairs, but I had refused. This was my last tie to my grandmother, to her warmth and the quiet comfort she had given me. Before she died, she had made me promise to protect myself. "Guard your heart."

But I failed her.

Still, she had always said that mistakes were meant to be learned from. That no matter how many times you fall, you have to keep moving forward.

I opened a closet and found an old box tucked away in the corner. Inside were all the gifts Cassian had given me over the years. A token for every time he had wronged me. Trinkets from childhood—a tennis bracelet, a brooch, a set of hairpins. Then, as we grew older, his apologies became more extravagant—jewelry, designer bags, diamond necklaces.

A full box. Overflowing.

I let out a hollow laugh. He had hurt me so many times.

One by one, I locked them inside the box and slid it under my bed. It could stay buried in this room, along with everything else that belonged to the past.  I had no need for it where I was going. I packed only the essentials—a few simple dresses and my grandmother’s in a small photo frame. 

The night before the wedding, Cassian knocked on my door. When I didn’t respond, he walked in anyway, holding a box wrapped in silver ribbon. He told me to wear it for tomorrow. When I opened the box, a gown lay neatly folded inside.

He pulled me into his arms suddenly, as he always did—possessive, overwhelming, leaving me no room to resist.

A long sigh of relief escaped him.

“Don’t worry, Pixie,” he murmured against my hair. “Sloane will only be my wife in name. But you… you will always be in my heart. You’re the one I truly love.”

“Tomorrow, just be good, alright?” His voice was laced with certainty, as if my compliance was already a given. “Stand beside me as my sister, witness my engagement to Sloane.”

“In a week, we’ll go to Greece and have our real wedding. Just the two of us.”

“After that, I’ll be yours. Only yours. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

His tone left no room for argument, as if he was certain I had already accepted my fate, already resigned myself to this twisted reality.

But just moments ago, Sloane had sent me a video.

In the video—

Cassian and Sloane were entangled, their voices dripping with desire.

“You’ve dated a few while you were abroad. Shouldn’t I be allowed one or two to make things fair? Livia, at least, is clean.”

“What if she clings to you?” Sloane pouted. “Didn’t you see how she looked at us those few days? Like she was breaking apart. She’s clearly madly in love with you.”

“She won’t,” Cassian replied without hesitation. “She has no family and craves love. Her best quality is that she’s obedient.”

“I don’t care! You need to cut her off completely. If I ever catch you sneaking around with her, I’ll find myself someone better.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he chuckled before his voice dropped, sultry and smug. “Honestly, after trying her, she’s nothing special. No matter how much I tease her, she never fully go wild…always so restrain. But you, baby, you always surprise me.”

Cassian had once told me, he always wanted what he couldn’t have, but once he got it, he lost interest. Back then, I had already suspected—if he could belittle Sloane in front of me, then surely, he could belittle me just as easily in front of her.

And now, with the truth staring me in the face, all I felt was a strange sense of clarity.

No heartbreak. No pain. Just the final piece of proof I needed to set myself free.

I looked at the man in front of me, the one I had spent a lifetime loving.

I looked at the boy who had once shone so brightly in my eyes.

And then, I nodded. “Alright.”

At four in the morning, I blocked every contact Cassian had ever used.

Without waking anyone, I grabbed my small suitcase and left with the people sent by the Kensington Family. The place I had lived in for over a decade no longer felt familiar. Just like the person I had once loved, who now felt like a stranger. The heartbreak, the yearning, the love, the resentment—all of it had faded into nothing.