Cassandra didn't sleep that night.
She lay in bed with the city humming outside the windows, her heartbeat filling the dark like a quiet drum, every thought circling Adrian like he was gravity and she was just debris orbiting too close to burn.
Every word he'd said replayed in her mind.
I've been ready since the moment you walked into my office.
You'll come to me when you're ready.
That's the beginning.
She hated him for being patient.
She hated herself for wanting him.
She hated that her chest now felt too small for everything building inside her.
By morning, she was exhausted, wired, raw.
And she wasn't alone.
There was a silhouette on the balcony.
Adrian.
He stood against the glass railing, shirt sleeves rolled, tie absent, hair slightly tousled like he'd been running his hands through it in frustration all night.
He turned when she stepped out, those dark eyes flicking over her like a touch.
"You didn't sleep," he said quietly.
"You didn't either," she replied.
His jaw flexed, a small tell she was learning. "I didn't want to disturb you."
She almost laughed. "I was already disturbed."
He smirked faintly. "Believe me, I noticed."
The city stretched below them, a panorama of movement and noise, but up here everything felt still. Too still.
She stepped beside him, the cold morning air brushing her skin, waking every nerve.
"Adrian," she said softly.
He inhaled like he was bracing himself. "Yes?"
"I don't know what I'm doing."
"That makes two of us," he replied.
She looked up at him, and for a moment — a breath, a heartbeat — she almost said it.
Almost asked him to close the distance.
Almost surrendered her pride.
But the air shifted.
A vibration against the table inside.
His phone — buzzing again, again, again.
Adrian tensed immediately.
She frowned. "You're being called."
He didn't look away from her. "I'm aware."
"Is it important?"
"It can wait," he said, but his voice was too sharp, too controlled.
"Are you sure?"
His mouth tightened. "Cassandra. You are the priority."
No man had ever said that to her.
Not like it meant something.
But before she could melt into the moment, the phone buzzed again — and this time the screen flashed bright enough for her to catch a name.
Victoria Kane.
His sister.
Adrian saw her notice. Something shuttered behind his eyes.
He stepped inside, grabbed the phone, hesitated — then answered.
"This better be urgent," he snapped into the receiver.
She couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but whatever it said, Adrian went pale.
Not shocked.
Not horrified.
Just… cold.
Hard.
He hung up slowly, the way someone lowers a weapon knowing it's still dangerous.
"Adrian?" she whispered.
He looked at her. And she knew — knew — he was about to lie to her.
"We have to leave," he said.
"Why? What happened?"
He shook his head once. "I'll explain later. Get dressed."
"Adrian—"
"Not now, Cassandra."
His tone was soft but final, like steel wrapped in velvet.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to shake him. She wanted him to trust her the way she was learning to trust him.
But she knew him well enough now to recognize the wall slamming down behind his eyes.
And once that wall came up, nothing got through.
⸻
•••
The car ride was suffocating.
Adrian sat beside her, tension radiating off him in waves, his hand clenched around his phone so tightly she thought it might crack.
"Can you please tell me where we're going?" Cassandra asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
"No."
"No?" she echoed, eyebrows raised.
"Later."
"You said that already."
"And it remains true."
She groaned, leaning back in the seat. "I swear, you're allergic to vulnerability."
He looked at her then — really looked — and something flickered in his expression. Pain. Maybe fear.
"I'm trying to keep you safe," he said quietly.
"From what?"
He didn't answer.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until Cassandra felt like she might suffocate under all the unspoken things between them.
She turned away from him, staring out the window, her chest burning.
And that was when he did something unexpected.
He reached for her hand.
Not forceful. Not possessive.
Just… reached.
And when she didn't pull away, he laced their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She felt the tension in him ease — only slightly — but enough to know he needed this as much as she did.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"For what?"
"For not letting go."
She swallowed hard.
⸻
•••
They arrived at the Kane estate — a sprawling mansion on a hill framed by sharp stone pillars and too many windows, like a monument built to intimidate.
The front door swung open before they reached it.
Victoria stood there.
Perfect makeup. Cold eyes. A smile that wasn't a smile at all.
"Adrian," she said. "You took long enough."
He stepped in front of Cassandra subtly, protective, instinctive. "What happened?"
Victoria's gaze flicked to Cassandra — assessing, calculating, disapproving.
She didn't smile at her. Didn't greet her. Just ignored her.
That alone made Cassandra angry.
Victoria crossed her arms. "You need to see Father."
Adrian froze.
Just a fraction.
A millisecond.
But Cassandra felt it like a punch.
"Father?" Adrian said slowly. "He's awake?"
Awake?
Cassandra stiffened.
Awake? From what? From where?
What was she missing?
Victoria stepped aside. "Yes. And he wants to meet your wife."
A chill ran down Cassandra's spine.
Adrian whispered, "Cassandra, stay close to me. No matter what happens. Understand?"
She nodded, pulse racing.
They walked down the long hallway, Victoria's heels echoing sharply ahead of them, until they reached a massive door.
She opened it.
And Cassandra froze.
A man sat in a large leather chair, wrapped in blankets, tubes attached to his arm, thin oxygen tubing at his nose. His face was weathered, stern, powerful despite the weakness of his body.
His eyes — sharp, cold, impossible to read — lifted to meet Cassandra's.
"So," he rasped, voice like gravel. "This is the girl."
Girl.
Not woman.
Not wife.
Girl.
Cassandra bristled.
Adrian stepped forward. "Father, she's—"
"Quiet," the old man snapped.
Adrian's jaw locked.
"You married her in a hurry," the patriarch continued, eyes never leaving Cassandra's face. "Too much of a hurry."
Cassandra felt something icy coil in her stomach.
This man wasn't questioning her.
He was sizing her up like a threat.
"Tell me, Cassandra Vale," he said, leaning forward slightly. "Do you love my son?"
Her breath stopped.
Adrian stiffened beside her. "Father, this isn't—"
"I said quiet."
Cassandra swallowed. "I… I don't think that's something I can answer yet."
The old man's eyes narrowed. "So you don't love him."
"I didn't say that," she replied, voice tight. "I said I don't know yet."
He hummed, unsatisfied. "Do you trust him?"
She hesitated.
That hesitation was all he needed.
He leaned back and whispered, "I knew it."
Adrian's posture snapped straight. "Knew what?"
"That she's the wrong woman."
Adrian's eyes went sharp, lethal. "Don't."
But his father didn't stop.
"I told Victoria. I told the board. I told everyone. This marriage is a liability."
Cassandra's heart dropped.
Adrian took a step forward, voice like restrained thunder. "She is my wife. You don't get to—"
"She is a threat," the old man growled. "And I'll prove it."
Cassandra felt the air shift, darken.
The man raised a shaking hand — and Victoria stepped forward with an envelope.
She placed it on the table.
Adrian didn't look. He just stared at his father, jaw clenched so hard it trembled.
The old man nodded at the envelope. "Go on. Cassandra should see it."
Sudden dread choked her.
Adrian shook his head. "No."
"Open it," his father hissed.
"No."
"Adrian," Cassandra whispered. "What's in it?"
He closed his eyes like the question physically pained him.
Victoria sighed dramatically and grabbed the envelope herself, ripping it open.
She spilled the contents onto the table.
Photographs.
Dozens.
Cassandra stepped closer—
And her stomach dropped.
Her face.
Her old apartment.
Her old job.
Her ex.
Her ex standing beside her.
Her ex… kissing her cheek.
Her ex… holding her hand.
Her ex… hugging her goodbye the week before the marriage.
Victoria smirked. "Quite the little romantic history, Cassandra."
Adrian went still.
Utterly, terrifyingly still.
Cassandra stepped back, heart pounding. "These are old photos—"
"One month old," Victoria said sweetly. "Dated. Timestamped."
Cassandra's breath hitched. "I wasn't with him. He just showed up—"
"No one cares," Victoria cut in. "The optics speak louder."
Adrian finally spoke.
His voice was ice.
"Where did you get these?"
"Security flagged them." Victoria shrugged. "Naturally, we assumed Cassandra was hiding something."
"I wasn't hiding anything!" Cassandra burst out. "I didn't think it mattered, Adrian—"
The moment the words left her mouth, she knew they were the wrong ones.
Adrian turned toward her.
Slowly.
Like a man holding himself together with threads.
"You didn't think it mattered," he repeated, voice soft and deadly.
Her throat tightened. "Adrian… listen to me—"
"How could you not tell me?" he whispered. Not angry. Not yelling. Just broken.
Cassandra opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Because the truth — the horrible, stupid truth — was that she hadn't told him.
Because she didn't want him to think she had baggage.
Because she didn't want to look weak.
Because she didn't want him to think she'd once cared for someone else.
His father watched with cold satisfaction.
Victoria watched with smug triumph.
Adrian watched with a pain she never wanted to see again.
He stepped back from her.
Once.
Twice.
Like her presence burned him.
"Adrian," she whispered, reaching out.
He flinched.
Actually flinched.
And she felt something inside her crack clean in half.
He looked at her with eyes that weren't soft, or warm, or patient.
Eyes that had turned to stone.
"I told you," he said hoarsely. "I told you I needed honesty. I told you I needed trust."
"Adrian—"
"Don't," he said, stepping away again. "Just… don't."
The room blurred.
Her heartbeat felt like it was imploding.
Victoria smirked behind her hand.
Adrian's father sat back, victorious.
And Cassandra realized the twist — the heartbreak — the no-no-no moment:
She had finally wanted to choose Adrian.
But now Adrian wasn't sure he wanted to choose her.