Amy’s POV
The smirk on Cassandra’s lips is like a dagger twisting in my chest. My throat tightens, but I force myself to speak.
“Kael, you know me,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I would never do something like that.”
But he doesn’t look at me. His attention is fixed on Cassandra, who clings to him like a wounded bird. She keeps whimpering softly, milking the moment as if it’s a stage performance.
“Let me see,” he mutters, gently inspecting her wrist. She makes a show of flinching under his touch.
My stomach knots. The sight of him touching her—no matter how clinical, no matter how meaningless—scrapes raw against every nerve in me.
“She’s faking it,” I snap, unable to hold back. “She didn’t even touch the stove.”
Cassandra’s eyes glisten with crocodile tears as she looks at him. “I
