CASSANDRA
By the time my father called, I already had my answer.
“I told you,” I said, reclining on the silk chaise in my apartment, phone pressed to my ear. “You need to stop worrying. Derek will be mine.”
A pause. Then, his voice—cool, clipped, expectant. “You sound confident.”
“I am confident.” I swirled the wine in my glass, watching the red liquid catch the light. “He’s emotionally frayed, unsure who he can trust. Elena’s presence only makes it worse. She’s chaos, not stability.”
“And you think that’s what he wants now?”
“No,” I said, smiling faintly. “It’s what he needs. I’m going to give him peace. A future.”
Even if I had to manufacture every piece of it.
I hung up before he could reply. I didn’t need his approval. I’d get what I wanted—with or without it.
By late afterno
