I was folding laundry when Cassian burst through the door, his face lit with an excitement I hadn't seen in weeks.

"Selena! I have incredible news!" He swept me into his arms, lifting me off my feet.

"Cassian! What are you doing?" I laughed, though my heart ached at how rare these moments had become.

"Howard Corp is expanding globally," he announced, setting me down but keeping his hands on my shoulders. "London, Selena. They want me to head the London office."

"London?" The word felt foreign on my tongue. "But your position here—"

"Is temporary." His eyes sparkled with ambition. "This is it, babe. Everything we've worked for. Remember our dreams? The life we wanted?"

I nodded slowly. We'd spent countless nights in this tiny apartment, planning our future. A future where we'd never have to choose between rent and groceries again.

"The position starts in three months," he continued, pacing now. "Executive role, corner office overlooking the Thames. The salary alone..."

He named a figure that made my breath catch.

"We could finally have everything," he said, kneeling before me. "The penthouse, the lifestyle we deserve. No more bistro shifts for you."

I touched his face, studying the features I'd memorized over our decade together. "London is... far."

"Not if we're together." He took my hands. "I need you there, Selena. By my side. We can start fresh, away from everything here."

Away from the apartment where we'd barely made ends meet. Away from the memories of our struggle.

"I don't know, Cassian. My job here, my—"

"Your job?" He squeezed my hands. "Selena, you'd be giving up minimum wage for a life where you never have to work again if you don't want to."

I thought of the bistro, of Marcus and the regular customers who tipped me enough to cover our groceries. It wasn't much, but it was mine.

"Just think about it," he pressed. "This is our chance."

I nodded, unable to resist the hope in his eyes. "Okay."

"Yes?" His smile was radiant. "Yes, you'll think about it?"

"Yes, I'll go with you."

---

Three nights later, I woke to find Cassian's side of the bed empty. The clock read 2:17 AM.

I found him in the living room, laptop open, papers scattered across our coffee table.

"Cassian? What are you doing?"

He jumped, quickly closing his laptop. "Just reviewing some proposals."

"At two in the morning?"

"I'm excited, okay?" He ran his hand through his hair. "I want everything to be perfect."

I noticed his phone on the table, screen lit with a notification.

"Go back to bed," he said gently. "You have an early shift tomorrow."

As I turned to leave, another notification appeared on his phone screen.

Kennedy Ryan: Can't wait to lead the PR team in London with you. We're going to rule this city. 💕

My heart stopped.

"Cassian," I said quietly. "Who's leading the PR team in London?"

His face drained of color. "What?"

"Kennedy. She's going to London too?"

"It's... it's a big project," he stammered. "She's the best in PR. Howard Sr. specifically requested—"

"You didn't tell me she'd be there."

"It's not a big deal."

"It is if you're working closely together."

"Don't be ridiculous." He stood, taking my shoulders. "This is about our future, Selena."

But as he guided me back to bed, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just agreed to step into a trap.

---

The bistro was unusually busy for a Tuesday evening. I'd been assigned to the VIP section—a fact that made my stomach twist when I saw Cassian walk in with a group of impeccably dressed people.

"I brought some friends," he announced, kissing my cheek. "They're dying to try this place."

I recognized Kennedy immediately. She wore a designer dress that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"Selena works here?" a blonde woman asked, her voice dripping with surprise.

"Just temporarily," Cassian replied, not meeting my eyes.

"Quaint," Kennedy remarked, looking me up and down. "The service is... authentic."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks as the group laughed.

"Selena makes the best of it," Cassian added with an awkward chuckle.

I stood frozen, my professional composure cracking. These were his new friends—people who looked at me like I was some curiosity, a relic of his past.

"Can we sit?" Kennedy asked, her smile not reaching her eyes.

I led them to a table, aware of their whispers behind me.

"Is that the girl he told us about?"

"Poor thing has no idea."

As I placed their menus, Kennedy's hand brushed mine. "We'll need better wine than what she's suggesting," she murmured to Cassian.

I looked to him, waiting for him to defend me—to say anything.

Instead, he laughed nervously and agreed.

In that moment, something inside me shattered.

I couldn't breathe in that bistro anymore. Not with Kennedy's laughter ringing in my ears, not with Cassian's betrayal burning in my chest. I grabbed my purse and fled, leaving Marcus to cover my tables.

"Selena, wait!" he called, but I was already gone.

The rain had started by the time I reached the subway, gentle at first, then heavier. I didn't care. Let it wash away the humiliation.

Two transfers and forty minutes later, I stood before the redbrick building that had once been my entire world—Sunshine House, the foster home where Cassian and I had found each other.

The door opened before I could knock.

"Selena Stone," Diana Foster said, her face lighting up. "My God, child, what are you doing here?"

Diana had been the director when we were kids, a constant presence through the chaos of foster care. Now in her sixties, she'd aged gracefully, her silver hair pulled back in a neat bun.

"I needed to see you," I admitted, my voice breaking.

She pulled me inside, into the warmth of the common room where Cassian and I had spent countless evenings. Nothing had changed—the same mismatched furniture, the same faded rugs, the same sense of safety.

"Sit," she ordered, guiding me to the old velvet couch. "Tell me everything."

And I did. The words poured out of me—Cassian's transformation, Kennedy's cruelty, the London offer that felt more like a trap than a dream.

"He's changing, Diana," I whispered. "Or maybe he's just becoming who he was always meant to be."

"Oh, honey." She squeezed my hand.

A movement near the office door caught my eye. A tall man in an impeccably tailored suit stood watching us, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry," Diana said, noticing my gaze. "Mr. Howard was just leaving."

Howard? My heart stuttered.

He stepped forward, and I recognized him instantly from photos—Jasper Howard, Cassian's estranged half-brother. The family black sheep.

"Actually," he said, his voice deep and measured, "I'd like to meet Ms. Stone properly."

Diana hesitated, then nodded. "Selena, this is Jasper Howard. He's generously donated art supplies for our programs."

"Ms. Stone." He extended his hand. "I've heard about you."

I took his hand warily. "I doubt that's possible."

"Believe me, it is." Something flickered in his eyes—respect, maybe even sympathy. "You're the only person who's ever mattered to my brother."

"Was," I corrected, pulling my hand away. "Past tense."

Jasper's lips curved slightly. "Be careful, Ms. Stone. London isn't what it seems."

Before I could ask what he meant, he nodded to Diana and left.

---

The Howard estate on the Upper East Side loomed like a fortress—all stone and glass and cold perfection. A butler led me through marble hallways to Mr. Howard Sr.'s office.

"Miss Stone." He didn't stand when I entered. "Sit."

I perched on the edge of a leather chair, feeling like a child in a principal's office.

"You're causing problems for my son," he stated bluntly.

"Your son is causing problems for himself," I replied, surprised by my own boldness.

He studied me for a long moment, then slid a check across the mahogany desk.

Five hundred thousand dollars.

"Take this," he said. "Disappear."

My fingers trembled as I touched the paper. "You think I'm for sale?"

"I think you're an anchor," he replied coldly. "One that will drag Cassian down to your level."

I stood slowly, picking up the check. For one wild moment, I considered taking it—what couldn't I do with half a million dollars?

But then I remembered Diana's kind face, Jasper's warning, and most of all, my own worth.

I tore the check into pieces, letting them flutter onto his desk.

"Selena Stone doesn't come with a price tag," I said, turning to leave.

"London leaves in two weeks," he called after me. "With or without you."

---

Rain pounded the pavement as I emerged from the subway. My head throbbed with Howard Sr.'s threats, my heart heavy with uncertainty.

A small sound caught my attention—a pitiful meow from beneath a parked car.

I knelt in the rain, peering under the vehicle. A tiny orange kitten huddled against the tire, its paw bent at an unnatural angle.

"Hey, little one," I whispered, reaching carefully beneath the car.

The kitten hissed, backing away.

"Please," I murmured. "Let me help you."

A large hand appeared beside mine, and I startled.

"Don't move," a familiar voice said. "You'll scare him more."

Jasper Howard knelt beside me in the rain, his bespoke suit pooling around him on the wet pavement.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Following a hunch." He smiled slightly. "Hold this."

He handed me his phone—open to a photo of an orange cat with unusual markings.

"Whiskers," I breathed. "From NYU?"

He nodded. "I found her senior year. Adopted her kitten after she passed."

My heart swelled as he carefully reached under the car, murmuring softly to the injured kitten.

"She trusts you," he observed as the kitten allowed him to pick it up.

"Animals always have," I said softly.

Jasper stood, cradling the kitten gently. "My car's just there. I'll take you both somewhere safe."

As we walked through the rain, the kitten nestled between us, I realized something had shifted. In Jasper's eyes, I wasn't just Cassian's girlfriend or a charity case—I was someone worth knowing.

Someone worth saving.

The invitation arrived on embossed cardstock, gold lettering announcing the Howard Foundation Annual Gala. I traced the letters with my fingertip, feeling the weight of what it represented—Cassian's new world.

"You need to be there," Cassian said, watching me from across our apartment. "It's important for appearances before the London move."

"I understand," I replied, though something in his tone made my stomach tighten.

He disappeared into our closet, emerging with a garment bag. "I got you something."

Inside was a dress—black, slinky, with a neckline that plunged lower than anything I'd ever worn. The price tag still dangled from the sleeve: $3,200.

"Cassian, this is... expensive."

"You can't wear that waitress uniform to the gala." He frowned at my collection of modest dresses. "This is Howard Industries' biggest event of the year."

I tried it on, feeling like I was playing dress-up in someone else's life. The fabric clung to every curve, making me feel exposed rather than elegant.

"Perfect," he declared, though his eyes didn't quite meet mine. "Just remember—these people are potential investors. Don't say anything... controversial."

The warning stung. "Controversial?"

"You know what I mean." He adjusted his tie in the mirror. "Just don't embarrass me."

---

The ballroom of the Plaza Hotel glittered with chandeliers and old money. I clutched Cassian's arm as we entered, feeling dozens of eyes assessing me—the charity case his son had brought home.

"Remember," Cassian murmured, his breath warm against my ear, "smile and nod. Let me handle the talking."

I was deposited at the bar while he was pulled into a circle of suited men. Alone, I ordered sparkling water, trying to look like I belonged.

"Selena Stone." Kennedy's voice slid over me like silk. "What a... surprise."

She was stunning in emerald green, her dark hair swept into an elegant updo. Diamond earrings caught the light as she tilted her head.

"Cassian didn't mention you were attending," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Oh, he mentioned it." She signaled the bartender. "Red wine, please. And another water for... what are you drinking? Oh right, water."

Her smile was razor-sharp. "Cassian's been so stressed about tonight. Worried you might not... fit in."

"I'm managing," I replied, lifting my chin.

"Are you?" She leaned closer as cameras flashed nearby. "Because you look like you're drowning."

With a sudden movement, she stumbled forward, her wine glass tipping. Dark liquid cascaded down the front of my dress, spreading across the expensive fabric like a bloodstain.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, loud enough for nearby guests to turn. "I'm so clumsy!"

Flashbulbs popped as photographers captured my humiliation.

She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered, "He's only bringing you to London as a comfort blanket until he's settled. Once he's established, you'll be replaced. He belongs to our world now."

---

I fled to the ladies' room, scrubbing desperately at the stain with damp paper towels. The wine had seeped through to my skin, leaving me feeling marked and tainted.

I needed Cassian—needed his arms around me, his reassurance that everything would be okay.

I found him near the stage, deep in conversation with his father and Kennedy. Their heads were bent together, plotting something in low voices.

"Cassian," I called, my voice small.

He looked up, irritation flashing across his face before he smoothed it away. "Selena. What happened?"

"I need—" I began, but he was already turning to a staff member.

"Find someone to clean her up," he ordered, not meeting my eyes. "And get her a different dress if possible."

"Sir, there's an emergency board meeting," the man replied. "Mr. Howard Sr. has requested your presence."

"Now?" Cassian glanced at his watch.

"Now," his father confirmed, already moving toward the exit.

Cassian looked at me, then at Kennedy. "We'll continue this discussion later," he told me, his tone dismissive.

"But—"

"I have to go." He was already walking away. "Take care of yourself."

---

I found myself on the terrace, shivering in the evening air. The city lights blurred through my tears as I gripped the stone balustrade.

"Here." A jacket settled over my shoulders—warm, expensive wool.

I turned to find Jasper Howard watching me, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you," I whispered, pulling the jacket tighter.

"You're shaking." He gestured to a waiting car below. "I can take you home."

"I'm fine."

"No," he said bluntly. "You're not."

The ride was silent until we hit the Queens-Midtown Tunnel.

"You're losing yourself," Jasper finally said, his voice quiet but firm. "Cassian is not the man you think he is anymore."

"He's still the same person inside," I argued, though the words felt hollow.

Jasper's laugh was bitter. "The Cassian I knew died the day he walked into Howard Tower."

"He's just... adjusting."

"No." Jasper's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "He's forgetting who he was. And who you are."

His words cut through my defenses like glass. For the first time, I wondered if I was fighting for a ghost—a Cassian who no longer existed.