Chapter Five
888 Words
CASSIAN’S POV
“You should’ve killed her when you had the chance.”
The words linger in my mind as I stand in front of the glass wall overlooking the city, one hand tucked into my pocket while the other holds a glass of whiskey I haven’t touched in the last ten minutes.
Behind me, Dominic Romano leans against my desk, far too calm for the kind of conversation we are having.
“She heard nothing,” I say.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Dominic scoffs. “You always think you do.”
I ignore him.
The city lights blur from the glass in front of me, but my mind isn’t here anymore.
It’s upstairs. On Elara. Even thinking her name feels inconvenient.
The study door has been opened earlier. I knew but ignored it. I sensed her presence and, from her footsteps, knew she halted at the door. Most people would walk past it. Elara peeked…and ran when she saw we noticed someone's presence at the door.
That alone tells me enough about her.
“She’s curious,” Dominic mutters, like he just reached into my head and pulled the thought out himself.
“She’s stubborn,” I correct.
“And she became your wife less than six hours ago.”
I grind my teeth.
“That investigation stunt outside the church shook her,” he continues. “You should have warned her beforehand.”
“She didn’t need details.”
“She is your wife now.”
The word settles strangely in my chest. Wife. Dangerous word.
I push away from the window. “This arrangement remains exactly what it was meant to be,” I say evenly. “Nothing more.”
Dominic folds his arms. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I glance at him without expression. Most people fear my silence. Dominic never does. Probably because he knew me before Virelli Holdings existed.
Before the money
Before the power.
Before I even learned how to bury every emotion so that nobody could use it against me.
“Does she know?” he asks.
“No.”
“And you still don't plan on telling her?”
“That depends.”
A dry laugh leaves him. “You spent fifteen years looking for her, Cassian.”
I say nothing.
“But now that she’s finally here, you pretend she means nothing.”
I grip the whiskey glass with force. “She doesn’t remember me,” I say flatly.
“That doesn’t erase what happened.”
And just like that, the memory returns.
Rain is pouring down hard enough to blur everything. The smoke. Screaming. I am ten years old again, trapped inside a twisted metal while blood runs into my eyes.
People shout everywhere but nobody attempts to help. Except one frightened little girl who should have been too scared to move at all. I still remember her small trembling hands trying desperately to pull me free.
“It’s okay,” she had comforted me through tears. “You will be okay. I won’t leave you.”
I draw in a deep breath. No one has ever said those words to me before her, or after. Until Elara.
“You are thinking about it again.” Dominic’s voice drags me back to the present.
I empty the whiskey in one swallow. “That girl doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I didn’t answer because I was not sure. The Elara downstairs isn’t the same child from fifteen years ago. She is sharper now. Stronger and angry in ways that little girl never was.
But sometimes… something slips through. I remember how she had looked at her father even after what he’d done. How she fought back her tears in that office instead of letting them fall. The way she still cares about ninety-three employees while her own life collapses around her.
She has the same heart, just older now and far easier to destroy.
A knock interrupts the silence. The study door opens wide.
“Sir?” Clara enters, carrying a tray. “Mrs. Virelli asked for water, so I brought…”
She halts abruptly when she becomes aware of Dominic.
“Leave it there,” I say.
She nods and sets the tray down, then hurries back out.
Dominic waits until the door shut before speaking. “She’s not sleeping, is she?”
“No.”
“Are you going to tell her the truth before someone else does?”
“There are things she doesn’t need to know.”
“There are things she absolutely does need to know”
The room becomes silent.
Then my phone vibrates. I glance at the screen. Unknown number from my private line. Only three people have it.
I answer. “What?” The voice on the other end speaks fast. Every muscle in my body freezes.
Dominic straightens up. “What happened?”
I lower the phone. For the first time tonight, an uneasy, dangerous chill runs through me. “They found him,” I murmur.
Dominic’s expression darkens instantly. “Alive?”
My mind shifts to the woman sleeping only a few doors away. Then back to him. “Yes.”
I pause briefly before speaking again. “And he is asking for Elara.”
- Writer
