THE LIE I CALLED LOVE

THE FIRE BEHIND HIS EYES

Cassian

She walks through my penthouse like she’s trying not to leave footprints.

Soft. Careful. Controlled.

But I see it in her eyes. The fight.

Ariella Carter is not someone who surrenders easily, and I underestimated that the first time she stood in front of me in that courtroom lobby with fire in her voice and fury in her bones.

Now, she’s everywhere I look.

Wearing my ring. Sleeping in my bed. Smiling for the cameras.

Lying just like I taught her.

And still—somehow—managing to look more honest than anyone I've ever known.

---

My phone buzzes.

UNKNOWN SENDER: She’s digging. Tell your fiancée to back off before she finds out what really happened to the Merivale account.

My blood runs cold.

How the hell does she even know that name?

I push the phone away. I’m not dealing with that now. Not when I have a PR dinner in two hours with a senator’s daughter and a fake fiancée who can barely look me in the eye without challenging my entire existence.

I hear her voice before I see her.

“She called you Cass,” Ariella says, arms crossed in the hallway.

“What?”

“The woman on the phone last night. The one you told to burn a deal. She called you Cass.”

I don’t flinch. “And?”

“No one calls you that.”

I step toward her. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“You were threatening someone.”

I smirk. “Not the worst thing I’ve done, I assure you.”

She doesn’t smile back.

And just like that, the air between us goes sharp again—too quiet, too tense, too charged.

“What is the Merivale account?” she finally asks, voice low.

I freeze.

It’s not just the name.

It’s her saying it.

Because I’ve spent years burying Merivale under NDAs and silence. Years pretending I didn’t destroy a man to build my empire.

If she’s asking that question, it means someone’s already talking.

And I don’t know whether to lie, deny it, or pull her closer so she never gets far enough to ask again.

Instead, I say nothing.

And she walks away like she’s just seen a crack in my armor—and isn’t sure if she should run… or dig deeper.

---

That night, she sleeps facing away from me. But her breathing is shallow. Restless.

Like she’s dreaming of battles she hasn’t fought yet.

And I lie awake, knowing that the most dangerous thing I’ve ever let into my life isn’t a rival, or a scandal, or a billion-dollar risk.

It’s her.

And she doesn’t even know it yet.