Rewriting Fate I’ll Never Love You Again

I’d been in love with Cassian Cross—my brother’s best friend, the one and only mafia boss in the NYC—for as long as I could remember.

On the night of my twentieth birthday, my brother promised me a surprise. I didn’t expect that surprise to be a very drunk, very kissable Cassian.

One reckless night. One baby boy.

Cassian agreed to marry me after giving birth.

But the day I gave birth to Leo, Cassian said nothing. He just packed up and vanished to France for nearly five years.

Then he returned with Alessia. His first love.

And when she saw Leo and me, she ran away and disappeared.

After that, Cassian never left my side. Like he was trying to be the man I needed all along, that we were finally going to have our chance.

But fairytales are lies wrapped in pretty paper.

On Leo’s sixth birthday, we were driving to dinner. The brakes failed. The car spun onto the highway, flames licking at the engine.

Cassian got out. And then he locked the door. “If it weren’t for you, Alessia would still be by my side. Now? It’s your turn to suffer.”

It wasn’t until that moment I understood—Cassian had never loved me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my twenties birthday. Cassian was in my bed, exactly where I’d left him in the past.

This time, I didn’t hesitate. I ran. And on my way out, I made the call I should’ve made the first time.

To Alessia.

1

Isadora’s POV

Cassian was sprawled across my bed like a fallen angel, half-conscious, his shirt rumpled and fingers reaching out to me with a drunken slur of my name.

“Isadora?” he murmured, eyes barely open. “Why are you standing so far away?”

The sound of his voice—so familiar, so heartbreakingly intimate—made my chest tighten.

I froze.

This was it. The moment everything went wrong in my past life.

Cassian smiled, slow and lazy, as he tugged at the buttons of his shirt. “Come on, Isadora.”

He looked like sin and temptation and everything I used to want.

But I knew better now. I didn’t move closer. I took a step back instead.

In my past life, Damian—my brother—had handed me that glass of whiskey tonight with a knowing smile. He knew I had a crush on Cassian, his dangerous, untouchable mafia friend.

He’d poured Cassian a drink. Said it was to loosen him up.

“If he doesn’t love you,” Damian had whispered, “What’s the harm in a one-night stand?”

Back then, I’d been naïve. I’d believed Cassian and I were the perfect match.

He was the ruthless king of the mafia world. I was the daughter of Manhattan’s most powerful casino mogul.

Together, we could’ve ruled New York.

So I went along with my brother’s plan, got myself overwhelmed by the fantasy that Cassian actually wanted me. I’d let him—when he kissed me, when his hands slid under my clothes.

One night. That’s all it took. One night led to a pregnancy. And then a rushed proposal from the ever-honorable Cassian.

I thought love would grow from responsibility. That he’d come to love me the way I loved him.

But Cassian left the day I gave birth. Vanished for five long years.

When he finally returned, he wasn’t alone. He brought Alessia—his first love, his forever, the one he’d abandoned us for.

She hated me. Hated our son, Leo.

She gave him a choice: her, or us. But before he could choose, she disappeared.

And Cassian stayed. I thought he chose us, chose to be with our son. So we played the house, perfectly.

Until Leo’s sixth birthday. We were on the highway, headed to dinner. The brakes gave out. The car spun. Smoke. Screams.

Cassian got out. And he locked the door behind him.

That was when I realized he had never forgiven me for Alessia’s disappearance. He never loved me. Not truly.

Back in this moment. Given a second chance by whatever cruel god watched my life unravel.

And this time, I wasn’t going to waste it.

I was going to give Cassian exactly what he wanted—Alessia.

I found his phone and scrolled through until I saw her name. I hit dial. “Alessia? Cassian’s passed out in my room. He’s wasted. You should come get him.”

Cassian stirred on the bed, murmuring something I couldn’t quite hear.

…

Fifteen minutes later, Alessia swept into my bedroom like a storm in heels—eyes narrowed, face pale with suspicion.

“Everyone knows you’ve been mooning over Cassian for years,” she snapped, arms crossed like a challenge. “He’s in your bed. Alone. On your birthday. And instead of seducing him, you called me? What are you playing at, Isadora? Are you really that virtuous… or just plotting something?”

I didn’t have the patience for her theatrics.

“There’s no time for your paranoia,” I said flatly. “Cassian’s drunk and unconscious. Get him out of my room. I don’t care if you drag him home or toss him in a cab. But I’m sure you wouldn’t want him waking up in another woman’s bed, would you?”

Alessia shot me a razor-sharp glance but didn’t argue. She walked over and looped Cassian’s arm over her shoulder, struggling under his weight. They made it to the hallway before he collapsed like a felled tree.

“He’s too drunk,” she huffed. “We’ll stay in the guest room.”

“Down the hall, to the left,” I muttered. “Knock yourselves out.”

As long as it’s Alessia, I told myself. Then everything will go differently this time.

“Help me get him up,” Alessia barked. “I can’t carry him alone.”

“Of course,” I said quietly and moved to help.

Cassian barely stayed upright between us.

When we finally got him onto the guest bed, Cassian landed face-down with a soft groan. His suit was still immaculate. Not a hair out of place.

“You didn’t even try to kiss him, did you?” Alessia arched a brow as she straightened her blouse. “Didn’t even sneak a taste?”

I swallowed hard. “He’s all yours now.”

I left before she could say anything else.

Moments later, the muffled sound of kissing floated down the hallway. Then moaning. Laughter. The telltale rustle of sheets.

I froze. I told myself I didn’t care anymore. But the sounds still stabbed at something inside me.

Needles. Tiny, invisible ones pricking right through my resolve.

I ran.

I didn’t look back.

Enjoy your night with her, Cassian, I thought.

I gave her back to you. Just like you always wanted.

…

I had underestimated the effects of a whiskey.

By the time I hit the street, my head spun and my stomach twisted in knots.

Then it came the heels wobbling and the vision blurring. I stopped at the corner, clutching a street sign for balance.

The neighborhood was unfamiliar—gritty and shadowed. The only building with lights on was a strip club flashing RUBY in red neon.

Classy.

I checked my pockets. No phone. Just some cash. No Damian to call for a rescue. Brilliant.

Between the sleazy alley and the strip club, I picked the lesser evil.

Inside, Ruby was dark, smoky, and pulsing with bass. The music vibrated through my ribs. I made my way to the bar, weaving through bodies and stray glitter.

“Water?” I asked the bartender, blinking up at him. “Or something not alcoholic?”

He gave me a slow, amused grin. “You’re in the wrong place for that, pretty. But hang tight—I’ll check the back.”

I nodded, gripping the counter to keep from tipping over.

Trying to find a seat, I stumbled near a booth—and tripped. Landed straight onto someone’s lap. A very expensive, very male lap.

He looked too clean-cut to belong here. Buttoned shirt, dark jacket, sharp jawline. And god help me, he was gorgeous.

“I—sorry,” I mumbled, half-dazed. “You work here?”

“Yes,” He adjusted slightly, his pants cool against my bare legs. “Are you alone? Need me to call someone for you?”

“No,” I said quickly—and then, without thinking, I pressed my fingers over his mouth. “Today’s my birthday. I don’t want to go home yet…”

His eyes lifted to mine—dark, unreadable, and devastatingly intense. Then, with a surprising gentleness, he peeled my hand away from his lips.

“Have you been drinking all night, Isadora?” he asked, voice low, almost intimate.

“You know me?” I blinked, trying to sit up straighter and get a better look at him. The room tilted, and my lips—without warning—crashed into his.

2

Isadora’s POV

His body went rigid. So did mine.

But his lips were soft. Shockingly soft. And for a second, neither of us moved.

And then… I didn’t want to move.

Cassian is probably screwing Alessia right now, I reminded myself. So why couldn’t I have a little fun of my own?

My arms slid around the stranger’s neck as if they belonged there. His hesitation dissolved like smoke, and then he was kissing me back—fierce, hungry, like he wanted to devour every last piece of me.

I didn’t even realize he’d lifted me until I felt my legs swinging in the air. His lips never left mine as he carried me out—toward his car, I assumed. His breath brushed against my ear, deep and dangerous.

“Don’t regret this tomorrow, Isadora,” he murmured. “You chose to mess with me this time.”

Even through the liquor haze, I knew we were headed for something intense. Something I couldn’t undo.

That night was a blur of heat and tangled sheets.

He was built like sin—hard muscle, commanding hands, a mouth that ruined me in the best possible way.

We didn’t stop. Not until I was too exhausted to breathe, let alone move.

…

I woke up in a hotel room the next morning, my head pounding and mouth dry. The curtains were drawn tight, casting the whole place in shadows.

I slipped out of bed carefully, pulling my torn dress back over my sore body. I hadn’t even seen his face clearly.

Didn’t want to. This would be just a one night stand, that’s all.

I just needed to get out.

By the time I flagged down a cab, I finally caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror.

My dress was wrecked. And my neck was a battlefield of bruised lips and bite marks.

Perfect.

I needed to get home and scrub the evidence off before my father, mother, or Damian saw me like this.

But as I reached the front door, a familiar voice echoed down the hallway.

“Where have you been all night, Izzy?”

I froze. Shit. Cassian.

Only my brother called me Izzy. Cassian used to, once, when I liked him too much to allow him to call me like that.

Now it just made my skin crawl.

He leaned against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, casual as hell. His gaze slid over me—and then locked on my neck.

“Just stayed at a friend’s house,” I replied coolly, stepping past him.

“Don’t lie, Izzy,” he said, eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t lie.” I could feel my patience cracking.

Weren’t he and Alessia busy last night? Shouldn’t he be basking in the afterglow or whatever the hell people did after reuniting with their true love?

But then I noticed that he had marks too. Faint, but unmistakable.

And he had the audacity to question me?

“I spent my birthday with friends,” I said, flashing him a sharp smile. “And you don’t get to interrogate me, Cassian. You’re my brother’s friend. Not my keeper.”

I glanced behind him. “Where’s Alessia? She didn’t spend the night with you?”

His jaw tightened. “I asked you a question, Isadora. Where were you last night? And where the hell did you get those?”

He nodded to my neck, his expression unreadable—but something burned in his gaze.

I lifted my hand, trying to hide the marks. “Allergic reaction.”

Cassian laughed—cold, cruel. “You really expect me to believe that? Don’t play dumb. I know what you and Damian were planning. Get me drunk. Shove me into your room. Hope something happens.”

I stared at him. “Cassian—”

“You wanted a night with me, and when that didn’t work, you ran off and found some random guy to finish the job?” His voice dropped, dripping with disgust. “I thought you were better than that, Isadora.”

My hands balled into fists. “Stop it. You are being very rude now.”

But he didn’t. He stepped in closer, voice a low, dangerous whisper. “Or what? Didn’t you want me to care? Is that why you brought Alessia in last night—hoping I’d realize something once you were gone?”

I blinked at him, stunned.

Then it hit me.

Cassian still thought I was that desperate girl who liked him—so every move I made last night must’ve looked like another trick. Another trap.

Maybe he thought I'd orchestrated it all to make him feel guilty for being with Alessia. That I'd hoped guilt would make him fall for me.

So that’s why he mocked me the second I walked through the front door. He didn’t see me as heartbroken. He saw me as manipulative.

Something inside me still cracked. It was a tiny, aching sorrow—because Cassian genuinely believed I was capable of scheming him into love.

In every lifetime, it seemed, he thought so little of me.

Cassian’s voice turned colder, slicing into my thoughts. “As you wished, I slept with Alessia. We’re a couple now. Officially. I might even marry her.”

I forced a smile, calm and bright. “That’s great. Congratulations.”

His jaw flexed like he didn’t expect me to say that.

“So whatever game you think you’re playing,” he said, stepping in close, “stop. Don’t interfere in my relationship with her.”

“As you wish,” I said, mirroring his words, my voice syrupy sweet.

I turned to head back to my room. But just before I stepped inside, I looked over my shoulder and added, “By the way… I don’t like you anymore. So stop flattering yourself. I’m not interested in your attention, Cassian. I’m done playing.”

“You—”

I shut the door on his voice, sealing the moment with finality.

Perfect. Everything had gone according to plan.

Cassian got what he wanted—Alessia. And now he had no reason to blame me, no grudges to hold.

We were clean.

As long as I stayed away from him, I could finally live my life in peace.

…

A loud thud echoed down the hallway.

I opened the door just in time to hear my brother’s voice rising in fury.

“Why the hell is Alessia here?” Damian growled, standing outside the guest room. “And you? You slept with her? In my guest room?”

Cassian leaned against the wall, arms folded, expression cool. “Why so shocked? Who else would I be sleeping with? Your sister?”

“That’s not what I meant, asshole.”

“I was drunk,” Cassian said lazily. “Alessia just… took care of me.”

That’s when Damian noticed me hovering in the doorway, pale and silent.

He frowned, confused. “Izzy—?”

“I’m not feeling well,” I blurted, retreating to my room like it burned.

God. That was awkward.

3

Isadora’s POV

I stayed in bed all day.

No one disturbed me, thank god. They probably assumed I was nursing a hangover—or pretending to.

By dinner, there was a knock.

“Hey, Izzy,” Damian said gently through the door. “You okay? You’ve skipped every meal today.”

“I’m fine,” I lied under the covers, voice muffled.

“Come on. Just join us for dinner.”

Of course, he didn’t come alone.

Alessia chimed in next. “Isadora! Come eat with us!”

And then—because fate hated me—my mother joined the chorus too. I was officially outnumbered.

So I dragged myself to the table, sat down, and hoped no one would speak to me.

Cassian sat beside Alessia, dutifully cutting her steak like she was some helpless debutante.

“Cassian,” Alessia cooed, “I can cut my own food. I’m not a child.”

She said it like a joke.

Cassian’s gaze snapped to mine—sharp, burning. “You’re my girlfriend. Who else would I be taking care of?”

I focused on my steak like it was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen. But their performance was impossible to ignore.

They were practically glued together. Whispering. Touching. Kissing. Playing the happy new couple like they were auditioning for a reality show.

The rest of us sat in awkward silence.

Until Damian slammed his fork down.

“Would it kill you to have some manners?” he snapped. “There are other people at this table.”

Alessia giggled, saccharine and smug. “Oh, don’t mind us. We’re just in that phase—you know, newly together, can’t keep our hands off each other.” Then she turned her attention to me, voice sugary sweet. “And we owe it all to Isadora. If it weren’t for her, Cassian and I wouldn’t be together this fast.”

She raised her glass. “To Isadora—the matchmaker.”

She winked.

It looked cute. But I knew a dagger when I saw one.

I smiled back, effortless. “Of course. You two deserve each other.”

I clinked my glass against hers.

Cheers to hell.

The look that flickered across her face—brief and irritated—was almost worth it.

I stood, pushing my chair back with grace. “I’m full. If you’ll excuse me…”

And just like that, I walked out.

…

Damian found me later that night, pacing like a storm with nowhere to go.

“You saw what happened,” he snapped. “How could Cassian do that? In front of you. In front of me. Like we’re strangers.”

He punched the side of the bed, teeth clenched. “He knew. He always knew how you felt about him. And yet he stood there, flaunting Alessia like some trophy.”

“Damian, let it go.” My voice was quiet. Steady. “I don’t like Cassian anymore.”

That stopped him.

“You… don’t?”

“Nope.” I smiled, leaning back on the pillows like it was old news. “There are plenty of good men out there, right? Don’t you have other handsome, emotionally functional friends? Introduce me to them. I’m officially taking applications.”

He blinked, then grinned wide. “I told you! Why waste your time pining over Cassian when there’s a buffet of better men out there?”

He threw his arms around me in a bear hug.

“Actually,” he said, pulling back, eyes lighting up, “you remember that guy Mom and Dad tried to set you up with? The one they said was perfect for you—and who could totally help boost the casino biz?”

I raised a brow. “Who?”

“Kai Drenner.” Damian’s grin widened. “His empire? Ten times bigger than Cassian’s. Arms, clubs, entertainment. The guy basically sneezes and a million-dollar deal happens. He’s not based in NYC full-time, but guess what? He’s in town. Right now.”

My heart skipped. “Seriously?”

“I’ll text you his number. Hell, I’ll set up the meeting myself. You want dinner? Or something more private?” He winked.

I typed Kai’s name into my phone and felt it—relief. Real, clean, undeniable relief.

Letting go of Cassian had once seemed like the hardest thing in the world.

Now it felt like freedom.

This time, I wasn’t chasing a man who didn’t want me. I was choosing a future—for myself, and for my son.

…

The next morning, Alessia cornered me with a too-bright smile.

“You don’t mind if we move in for a bit, do you?” she asked, arm looped through Cassian’s like they were on a honeymoon. “Cassian redesigned his house for me, but it’s still under renovation. And hotels are so… impersonal.”

“Of course,” I said, my voice smooth and cool as glass. “Make yourselves at home.”

Our houses were in the same neighborhood—Cassian’s mansion just two streets over. Letting them stay here was efficient and strategic. It saved time and effort. Besides, business ties still mattered, after all, and I wasn’t about to burn a bridge just because I didn’t want a personal one.

Cassian played the role of perfect boyfriend. He hired a moving team to handle everything. Packed, shipped, and unpacked within hours.

I stood by the stairs, watching him from the corner of my eye. And for a brief, shameful moment, my mind drifted back—to another version of this life.

After that one reckless night with him, he’d sent Alessia to France like she was fragile and couldn’t handle the truth. Then he joined her there, vanishing from my life like I was a mistake that needed to stay hidden.

When they returned five years later, I was still the dirty little secret.

Cassian had always looked at me like I was beneath him. Like I was lucky to even breathe the same air.

He never looked at me the way he looked at her.

I turned to head up the stairs when I heard the sharp thump-thump-thump of someone falling.

Alessia. She tumbled down the stairs in a dramatic, sweeping roll, landing at the bottom with a sharp cry.

Cassian was by her side in seconds.

She burst into sobs, her face buried in his chest… until she turned her head toward me.

Pouting. Innocent. Dangerous.

“Why would you push me, Isadora?” she whimpered. “I thought we were welcome here… Why would you go and do something like that?”

“What?” I blinked. “I didn’t—”

“Enough!” Cassian’s voice cracked through the hall like a whip. “I told you to quit playing these games. If we’re not welcome, we’ll leave tonight.”

He scooped her into his arms, jaw tight, and stalked off.

And Alessia, she just turned her head on his shoulder and smiled at me. That smug, superior, bitch smile that said, I won.

…

Later that night, I heard a knock at my door.

Cassian.

“Do you still have that diamond necklace I gave you on your eighteenth birthday?” he asked.

I blinked, surprised. “Yes.”

“Do you mind lending it to Alessia? We’ve got a formal dinner, and she didn’t have time to shop.”

I paused, then turned to my jewelry box.

“Sure,” I said, retrieving the delicate velvet case. “Here.”

The necklace—the only gift he’d ever given me—used to be my most treasured possession.

Now? It was just glass and gold. Even if Alessia never returned it, I wouldn’t miss it.

4

Isadora’s POV

The day Cassian proposed to Alessia, I slipped and fractured my ankle.

Alessia didn’t miss her chance. She burst into my hospital room like a runway model, flashing her engagement ring like it had magical powers.

“Oh my god, Isadora,” she gasped when she saw the cast on my leg. “That looks awful. Is it serious? Will you… fully recover?”

“It’s just a fracture,” I muttered. “Not a tragedy.”

She blinked back a few crocodile tears. “Is it because of us? Did our engagement upset you that much? I—I feel so guilty…” Then, right on cue: “Wait, I’ve got a call.”

She flounced out, leaving her perfume and poison in the air.

Cassian walked in a moment later, face sour like he’d swallowed a lemon. “You just had to find a way to steal the spotlight, didn’t you? On our engagement day.”

“No. I slipped. That’s all,” I said calmly. “I’ve already told you—I don’t like you anymore. I didn’t then. I don’t now.”

But Cassian wasn’t buying it. His jaw twitched. His eyes narrowed.

“Izzy,” Cassian said darkly, his voice a low threat laced in false calm. “I suggest you find a boyfriend of your own and stop inserting yourself into our lives. Don’t harass us again.”

“I already have one,” I said, chin high. “And he’s amazing, thanks for asking.”

“You don’t have to lie. There’s no way you found someone that fast.”

Before I could clap back, Alessia breezed into the room like she was walking onto a catwalk. “What’s all the whispering about?”

“She says she has a boyfriend now,” Cassian said, sliding an arm around her waist like she needed reminding. “Do you believe that, babe?”

Alessia looked at me, her eyes glinting with superiority. “A boyfriend, Izzy? Really?” Her voice dipped with syrupy condescension. “Look, I get it—you’re probably upset about our engagement. But lie about having a boyfriend… ”

Cassian added with a patronizing smile, “I see you like a little sister, you know? I’d take care of you. Just… don’t lie or come between me and Alessia.”

And then—without waiting for my response—they walked out like they’d won something.

Smug. So smug.

…

Here’s the thing: I wasn’t lying.

My gaze drifted to the vase of deep crimson roses sitting on my windowsill—the petals lush, velvety, and unmistakably expensive.

They were from him, my boyfriend.

Turns out, fate has a wicked sense of humor.

Because the man I’d had a one-night stand with at Ruby’s—the one whose face I hadn’t clearly seen under the haze of flashing lights and champagne fog—was none other than Kai Drenner.

The same Kai Drenner my parents had arranged for me to meet.

The man everyone in Manhattan whispered about. The Mafia Lead in coast. Arms empire heir. Quietly terrifying. Devastatingly hot.

When I walked into the café for our “formal introduction,” I knew the second I saw him. And from the way his lips curved in amusement, so did he.

My face flushed hotter than I could hide.

He leaned in, voice teasing. “Shy now? You didn’t seem so shy that night.”

“I thought you were just… a really hot guy who worked there,” I admitted.

He shrugged. “I do work there. I just never said I wasn’t the boss. You didn’t ask.”

That was fair.

He studied me for a beat, then murmured, “If it hadn’t been me… who would’ve been lucky enough to have you that night?”

“None,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Not every man can catch my attention.”

That smile—that dangerous smile—spread across his face. “Be my girlfriend, Isadora. Let me take care of you.”

And I said yes. And that was why I slipped and broke the ankle. I missed a step on my date with Kai.

…

Once I was out of the hospital, I started spending more time with Kai. Dinners. Drives. Stolen kisses that left me breathless.

Coming home late became routine. I liked it that way.

But one night, when I walked in—glowing from the most romantic rooftop dinner in SoHo—I found Cassian on the living room sofa. Arms folded. Jaw locked.

“Where have you been?” he asked, voice tight.

I blinked. “I didn’t realize I had a curfew.”

“It’s midnight,” he snapped. “You live under this roof. Maybe act like it.”

I shrugged off my coat, breezing past him. “You’re not my father, Cassian. Why do you care?”

I tried to slip past him again, but Cassian stepped in front of me, his eyes locked on my neck—sharp, possessive, burning.

Then he spoke, low and dangerous. “Is that… a kiss mark?”

I paused. Turned slightly, catching the glimpse of it in the hallway mirror—a bold, red stain just beneath my collarbone.

Kai. Of course.

I met Cassian’s gaze head-on. “Yep. My boyfriend put it there. So what?”

I didn’t owe him anything. Not explanations or permission.

A flush crept across Cassian’s cheekbones.

Without another word, I walked past him and disappeared into my room, the soft click of the door sealing him out—and me in.

…

For the next few days, peace returned to the house.

Or so it seemed.

Until one morning, as I stepped out of my room, still half-asleep and heading toward the kitchen for coffee—Cassian appeared.

No warning or hello. Just fury.