The message came at 6:14 a.m. It was a knock, followed by a voice through the door, one of Cassian's assistants, polite but brisk.
"Madam Ward, your presence will be required at a press event today. Outing details are in the file left on your table. Your stylist will arrive within the hour."
No explanation. No request. Just required. Like I was another piece of his empire, another asset to be displayed.
I didn't answer. Didn't open the door. I just lay there under the weight of the sheets and the silence, staring at the ceiling of a room I still couldn't call mine. This wasn't part of the agreement, not explicitly. But the contract was iron-clad, and Cassian always knew how to wield it without raising his voice. There were things I could resist. This wasn't one of them.
Still, that didn't mean I'd smile.
I dragged myself out of bed and walked barefoot to the balcony, arms wrapped around myself. The morning air was sharp, scented faintly with rosemary from the garden. I could see the sea in the distance. I could also see the security detail stationed just outside the gates, stationed for me.
The outfit was already laid out on my chaise, a sleek dark gown that clung to every place I didn't want noticed, heels so high they could be used as weapons, and a note in Cassian's handwriting.
"Wear this."
No signature. Just a command in ink.
I thought about calling my father. The urge came suddenly, irrationally, like muscle memory, like I could still reach him.
But I didn't.
Instead, I called Nina. My best friend and the only person who knew the truth.
"Lyanna?" Her voice cracked with sleep and worry. "Is everything okay?"
"No," I whispered. "They want me at some press event. I have no idea what it's for. Probably damage control."
"Can you say no?"
"No," I said again, bitter this time. "It's in the contract. Appearances. Public alignment. Controlled narrative."
There was a pause.
"Then own it," Lina said. "If you can't break it, own it. Make them regret putting you in that spotlight."
"I don't even recognize myself anymore," I murmured. "This isn't my world. I'm not one of them. But I have to pretend to be."
"That's okay," she said quietly. "Pretend for now. Then figure out who you'll be when it's over. Okay?"
"Okay," I replied softly
I haven't seen Cassian yet.
Instead, I saw Vera.
She was sitting at the breakfast table in a crisp ivory suit, all pearls and poise, sipping tea like she was born on a throne. When I walked in, her eyes lifted just once before flicking back to her tablet.
"You'll want to do something about your face before the cameras see it," she said casually, not looking up. "There are creams for puffiness. I'll have them sent to your room."
I ignored her. I wasn't going to let her turn this into one of her little pageants.
"Oh," she added as I turned to leave. "Don't embarrass him, Lyanna. You may be new, but you're still his wife. What you do reflects on all of us."
I paused. My nails dug into my palm. But I said nothing. Because anything I said would be twisted. Anything I felt would be punished. Instead, I walked out with my chin high and my spine straight, and left her in her castle of cruelty.
In the car, the silence between Cassian and me was as thick as the air before a storm.
He didn't look at me. Just typed something into his phone, businesslike, I studied his profile from the corner of my eye. Sharp jaw. Controlled expression. Eyes like frost. I hated that part of me still noticed those things. Still wanted to understand the man beneath the suit. He finally spoke.
"I hope the dress fits."
"It does," I said. "Though next time, maybe ask me first."
A pause. Then the faintest shrug.
"Next time, you'll pick it yourself."
That shut me up. Not because it was generous, but because it wasn't what I expected. Cassian Ward didn't offer alternatives. He gave orders. And yet, somehow, I couldn't tell if that was a warning or a strange sort of permission. Either way, I said nothing else. The car turned onto the private road leading to the event, lined with press vans, black cars, and flashing cameras.
Whatever this day was meant to be, it wasn't just a formality. Something was riding on it. Something big. Cassian's reputation had taken a hit two weeks ago. Rumours of financial tampering with an overseas holding, followed by a leaked wire transfer connected to a minor arms deal.
Nothing confirmed it yet, but there was enough smoke to suggest fire. And I was probably here to be the smoke screen. The trophy. The loyal wife. The distraction. I could already feel the weight of the day pressing down on me. And I had no idea how much heavier it would become.
Cassian's POV
Everything in my world is calculated. Every word. Every silence. Every photo.
This press event? It's not a performance, it's a war strategy. They think I'm losing control. The Board, the whole fucking city. The other families. They smell weakness, like blood in the water.
So, I do what I always do: I counter the narrative. A public appearance with my wife. The picture of domestic elegance. A wife makes you look stable. A new wife makes you look dangerous and strategic. Married, but not tame. I glance at the front gates from the back of the convoy SUV.
The reporters are already frothing, necks stretched, cameras ready to dissect every flicker of emotion from my face. Let them try. They won't find anything, not today, not ever. Today, I'm what they expect: ruthless, immovable, precise. I've spent years curating this myth. But the second she steps out of the car behind me… It cracks.
Lyanna.
Her frame is stiff, but I can see the way her hands tremble slightly at her sides before she hides them in the folds of that black dress.
It fits her too well.
Vera picked it, of course, she did, but I hadn't expected it to suit her like that. Clean lines, minimal fabric, the kind of thing that says look, but don't touch. Which is exactly the kind of message I want sent. But not like this. She looks… like something you could break. Her chin is high.
She's trying to look unbothered. But I know the difference between arrogance and survival. She's surviving. And for a moment, I feel something unfamiliar twist behind my ribs. I shouldn't have brought her here.
She doesn't belong in this arena. She's not built for the flashbulbs, the whispered threats behind friendly smiles. This world eats women like her alive and spits out the bones.
But I don't trust anyone else by my side.
A clean woman. Untouched by scandal, Untrained in deceit, her honesty makes her dangerous in a way no one expects. And that makes her mine. I step out first. Immediately, the storm begins. The cameras fire like machine guns. Questions scream across the barriers.
"Cassian! Over here!"
"Is it true the cartel funding came through Zurich?"
"Is the marriage a cover?!"
I keep walking. I've trained for this chaos. I know how to own it. But Lyanna pauses just a beat too long behind me. And the swarm turns toward her.
She flinches.
Not visibly, not to them. But I see it. The flick of her lashes. The curl of her fingers. She's not ready. And I won't let them chew her alive. My hand reaches back before I think twice. I find hers, they were already Cold. I squeeze it once. She looks up at me. Caught off guard. Like I just broke a rule she didn't know existed.
I don't say anything. I just guide her forward, letting her walk half a step behind me. Not beside. Not yet. But close enough for them to know she's mine.
The image will circulate in minutes. Cassian Ward, stoic as ever, was leading his young bride through a public frenzy. They'll read a dozen meanings into it. Let them, I don't care what they say. But the only thought pounding in my head is this:
Protect the image. Protect her. Keep the plan intact.
And then, out of nowhere, she suddenly stumbled. The carpet near the steps shifts under her heel. It's barely anything, half a second. But her body tilts toward the edge of the platform.
And without even thinking, again, I move. My arm snaps around her waist.
She gasps.
Her hand flies to my chest and clutches my suit. My other hand slides to the back of her neck. Gentle but firm. Pulling her in, steadying her.
Our faces are close. Too close at this point, and the Cameras explode. The crowd erupts. I know what they're thinking.
"Are you okay?" I asked as I helped him back to a standing posture
"I'm okay," she answered back
But for some stupid reason, I couldn't take my hands and eyes off her, fuck… those lips fuller than ever, and the way she looks back at me? Like I'm some saviour or the perfect husband to walk the face of the earth… and for that moment it was just me and her, everywhere went silent? The crowd? I couldn't hear them, but I could feel their eyes on us, waiting patiently for what was going to happen next. I know it, I know what they want. But I can't give it to them. I shouldn't. But I do.
I kiss her.
Hard. Deliberate. Not soft, not sweet. Possessive. I kiss her like my life depended on it, and God knows it does, because right now, she's the only thing in this world that can make me look untouchable. Untarnished. And I need the world to believe I haven't lost control.
But the second her mouth parts in surprise, and she leans into me, just slightly, I feel it. Something real. Something dangerous. This wasn't in the strategy.
The crowd sounded like a thousand bees in a tin can. Flashes lit up the sky like lightning, and I wanted to shrink, not because I was camera-shy, but because I didn't know how to wear this kind of spotlight. I wasn't made for this stage, and I knew it. I stood there anyway, clutching the edges of my composure like fabric too sheer to really hide anything. The questions came fast, like bullets from a machine.
{END OF CHAPTER FIVE}