Chapter 26
Kassia froze.
Cain's words echoed through the sterile hallway of the neurological ward like a grenade, shattering the fragile peace she had clung to for weeks.
"Marry me," he had said.
At first, she thought she'd misheard. The hospital lights buzzed overhead, the sharp scent of disinfectant filling the air. Her lips parted, but no words emerged. Her heart pounded in her chest, louder than the rhythmic beeping of monitors inside Chicago's room. She blinked once. Twice.
Then it hit her.
"You… what?" she whispered, disbelief curling into rising fury.
Cain stood in front of her, as calm and impassive as ever—like he was proposing a business merger, not asking for her hand in marriage. He didn't look nervous or hopeful. He was just Cain: cold, composed, and terrifyingly methodical.
"You heard me," he said smoothly. "I want to marry you."
The audacity lit a fire in her chest.
"You arrogant, manipulative, emotionally constipated—what the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped, taking a step back. "You don't get to throw that out like it's some transaction! This is my life, Cain! Not one of your corporate acquisitions!"
His eyes didn't flicker. "I know it sounds abrupt. But this isn't about control. It's protection. You and your sisters have suffered enough because of people like Darius King. I'm offering stability. Security. A future."
Kassia laughed, but it was sharp and bitter. "Oh, so that's your pitch? Protection? Do I look like some fragile doll in need of a fortress?"
"I didn't mean—"
"You're unbelievable!" she interrupted, her voice rising. "Because you paid some bills, because you threw money at our pain, you think that entitles you to… to me? You think I owe you something?"
Cain's jaw tightened, but before he could respond, a voice rang out behind them.
"Well, I think it's a brilliant idea," said Caesarea, her heels clicking across the polished floor.
Kassia turned around, stunned. "Mum?"
Caesarea strode toward them with her usual elegance, a designer coat draped over her shoulders and sunglasses perched in her hair. Her gaze moved from Kassia's flushed face to Cain's unreadable expression.
"I was just coming to check on Chicago," she said coolly. "But it seems I arrived at the perfect time."
"The perfect—? You can't be serious. You're not actually agreeing to this?" Kassia's voice cracked.
Caesarea shrugged lightly, as if the situation were a simple matter of logistics. "Cain is powerful. Respected. He clearly cares for this family. And let's be honest, Kassia—you're not getting any younger. You've always struggled with direction. This would give you one."
Kassia felt as though the ground had vanished beneath her feet.
"Mum, this isn't a business deal. It's my life. I don't need Cain or anyone else to give me 'direction.'"
Her mother's brow lifted with practiced poise. "You need more than pride. You need structure. Stability. Marriage to Cain would give you that—and elevate all of us."
"I'm not for sale," Kassia snapped, her voice trembling now.
Cain, silent during the mother-daughter exchange, finally spoke. "I'm not asking you to be."
"You're not asking at all," she shot back. "You're dictating."
Without another word, Kassia pushed past both of them. Her hands were trembling, her chest tight. She didn't know where she was going—only that she had to get away from Cain, from her mother, from the pressure pressing in from all sides.
From the weight of their expectations.
---
Hours passed.
The storm inside her showed no sign of settling.
Cain never came after her. In some strange, twisted way, that hurt more than anything.
Meanwhile, Cain sat silently in the back of his car, the hospital lights long behind him. Peter had left hours ago, and the driver, wise enough to keep quiet, didn't ask where they were headed.
Cain gave an address that made even the seasoned chauffeur flinch.
Southside Correctional Facility.
Maximum security.
Cain said nothing during the drive, eyes fixed on the lights flickering outside the window. Kassia's fury still echoed in his mind. But even as her words burned, his own thoughts churned darker.
She should feel honored, he thought. Lucky that a Mysia was offering her marriage.
---
The heavy gates of the prison clanged shut behind him as Cain was led through the concrete halls. The sterile air smelled of bleach and despair. But Cain didn't flinch. He had walked into more dangerous rooms than this—closed-door board meetings, political warzones—but this visit wasn't about power.
This was personal.
In the visitation room, behind thick plexiglass, Darius King slouched in a metal chair, his orange jumpsuit wrinkled, his posture casual and arrogant. A smirk tugged at his lips as he picked up the receiver like it bored him.
"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Darius asked gruffly. "Some lawyer? Cop? Lowlife with a grudge?"
Cain took his time sitting down. Calm. Controlled. He picked up the receiver and met Darius's gaze with an expression of cold steel.
"You don't know me," he said quietly, "but I know exactly who you are."
Darius scoffed. "Yeah? Get in line, pal. I'm a popular guy."
Cain leaned in slightly, voice low and dangerous. "Two months ago. Seventh Street. An alley behind a bar. You tried to rape a girl. You had her cornered—sobbing, bleeding. She wasn't your first, was she?"
Darius leaned back, rolling his eyes. "Please. I don't remember every drunk chick who throws herself at me."
Cain's grip tightened on the receiver. "You would've gotten away with it. Like always. But a boy saw you. A kid. He stopped you. He got in your way."
Darius blinked. Something flickered across his face.
"He was my brother," Cain said.
Now Darius sat up slightly. His smirk faded.
"Do you remember him now?" Cain asked. "Eighteen. Strong. Brave. He dragged that girl out of your grip. Punched you. Called the cops."
Darius said nothing, eyes narrowing.
"You chased him down two nights later," Cain went on. "You made it look like a hit-and-run. No one connected the dots."
A pause.
Then Darius laughed bitterly. "That little bastard… Broke my nose. Yeah. I remember. Had to get stitches."
Cain's eyes darkened.
"He had help that night. A big, bulky man. Made sure you didn't escape."
Darius shrugged. "I should've killed that kid when I had the chance. He's the reason I'm in here. If he hadn't interfered…"
Cain stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor.
"You're rotting in here because you finally picked the wrong girls."
Darius's eyes flashed, but Cain didn't wait.
"My brother's name was Caleb," he said coldly. "Remember it. Because the next time someone asks why your world crumbled, you'll know exactly whose ghost is haunting you."
Cain slammed the receiver onto the cradle and walked out without a backward glance. Behind him, Darius sat frozen, staring through the plexiglass, expressionless.
But not unmoved.
This wasn't justice.
Not yet.
But it was a start.
------------------------------------------------------
Author note
Thanks for reading
Xoxo
Cc