Cain
Of course.
Of course she’s with him again.
Cyrus.
Golden-hearted, pathetic, safe little Cyrus.
I didn’t even bother calling her name this time. What was the point? She wouldn’t have stayed. She never does when it’s him.
And gods, the worst part? I didn’t stop her.
I let her go. Again.
Because if I said what I really wanted to say, I’d beg. And Cain Blackthorne doesn’t beg.
Instead, I’m standing here in front of a damn mirror, yanking at a necktie like it’s the reason I’m losing my mind.
Another meeting.
Another political stunt.
Another day pretending I give a s**t about Rachel.
My jaw ticks.
The knot in my tie is too tight, just like everything else in my life right now.
“You look like a mess,” my father sneers, walking in like he owns the air I breathe.
I don’t answer
