“Cassandra, are you sure… do you really believe everything you’ve been saying to the media?”
Adrian’s voice was heavy, weighted with tension, as the two of them sat in the lavish living room of Cassandra’s apartment.
Cassandra widened her eyes, feigning shock. “Adrian, of course! Do you think I’d lie about something this serious?”
Adrian stared at the wine glass in his hand, his fingers tapping lightly against the glass. “But I… I know Rosemary. She’s not like that. She’s too proud of her own work to ever plagiarize.”
Cassandra’s smile stiffened, though she tried to maintain her graceful composure. “You’re holding that woman in far too high regard. She’s no one anymore, Adrian. Don’t let pity be your weakness—it’s worthless.”
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Adrian stood, pacing across the room, his face clouded
