Pretty Lies, Perfect Revenge

Chapter 13

Cassian’s POV

I stayed with Hazel a little longer, watching her pale face and the steady rise and fall of her chest under the oxygen mask. The guilt in my chest refused to leave. Eventually, I stood up, my clothes still damp from carrying her out of the fountain.

“Call me if anything changes,” I told the nurse, my voice low and controlled. She nodded quickly, eyes wide with the kind of fear people usually reserved for me.

I walked out of the guest house and headed straight for the main mansion. The night air felt heavier now, charged with the cold anger that had been simmering since I saw Hazel kneeling in that water. As soon as I stepped inside the brightly lit foyer, I saw Hanna. She was sitting on the grand staircase, crying dramatically into a silk handkerchief, her shoulders shaking theatrically.

I said nothing. I didn’t even glance at her longer than necessary. My footsteps echoed as I climbed the stairs, ignoring her soft sobs that grew louder the moment she noticed me. Let her cry. .

In my bedroom, I stripped off the wet suit and stepped into the shower. Hot water cascaded over me, steam filling the marble enclosure, but it did nothing to cool the fury burning in my veins. I stood there for what felt like hours, hands braced against the tiles, jaw clenched so tight it ached. The anger refused to fade. It only sharpened, turning colder, more precise. Hanna had crossed a line I never thought she would. And I had let it happen by not watching her closely enough.

I emerged from the shower, dried off, and changed into black silk pajamas, I headed downstairs, intending to return to the guest house, when Hanna suddenly blocked my path in the living room.

Her eyes were red and swollen, but there was defiance in them now, not just tears. “Why would you yell at me over a stupid thing you picked up from the streets?” she spat, voice trembling with indignation. “She’s nothing, Cassian! Just a maid!”

I stopped, looking at her with that same icy calm that usually made people back down. But Hanna wasn’t people. She was my wife, and tonight she had shown exactly how little she valued that title when it came to others.

“That thing has a name,” I said quietly, dangerously. “Hazel. Lett.”

Hanna’s face twisted. “She was just punishing her for pouring water on me! The little b***h did it on purpose!”

I tilted my head slightly. “So she purposely poured water on you?”

She nodded vigorously, crossing her arms. “Yes! Exactly.”

“Okay,” I replied, my tone deceptively mild. I turned and called for the nearest maid who was hovering anxiously near the hallway. “You. What time did this incident with Hazel and Madame occur?”

The maid swallowed hard, glancing between us. “Around 1:30 p.m., sir.”

I nodded once. “Pull up the security footage from the dining area and courtyard. Now.”

The maid hurried away. I sat down on the couch and waited in silence. Hanna stood there, arms crossed, still fuming.

A few minutes later, the maid returned with a tablet. I took it and started the video.

I watched everything.

Hazel serving the food carefully. Hanna deliberately loosening her grip on the glass so the water spilled all over herself. Then the slaps — five hard slaps that left Hazel’s mouth bleeding. Finally, Hanna ordering the guards to drag her out and force her to kneel under the fountain.

I paused the video at the moment Hanna sneered in Hazel’s face.

I paused the video at the moment Hazel was hauled toward the fountain. My grip on the tablet tightened until the edges dug into my palm.

I looked up at Hanna. “Is this what you meant?”

She shrugged, unrepentant. “She’s just a maid, Cassian. They need discipline. You know how these girls are—lazy, scheming—”

I stood slowly, the cold anger finally cracking through my restraint. “You made a child kneel in freezing water for hours. From 1:30 p.m. to 11:15 p.m. Is that what you call discipline? Is she even human to you?”

Hanna lifted her chin, refusing to back down.“I had the right! She disrespected me in front of my friends. If I don’t put them in their place, they’ll walk all over me. You’re soft on her because she’s young and pretty. Admit it!”

My voice rose for the first time “You had no right! That girl is an orphan. She was being assaulted in a hotel when I found her. I saved her because she reminded me of what I did to Marie Gretel twenty years ago. The guilt has eaten at me every single day since then.”

Hanna’s eyes widened for a second, then narrowed. “It’s been over twenty years, Cassian! Get over it. You don’t need to live with that guilt forever. Move on! And stop using this girl as some kind of redemption project. She’s manipulating you—can’t you see it? That little b***h wants to take you away from me!”

The words hit like acid. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Manipulating me? Haven’t I given you enough security? Haven’t I provided you with everything— this mansion, the cars, the lifestyle, the protection? You’ve never wanted for anything, yet you act like a frightened child who can’t share a single ounce of attention.”

Hanna laughed bitterly, stepping closer. “Security? That’s all you ever give me—money and guards! But emotionally? You’re cold as ice! And now you bring this street rat into our home and treat her like she’s fragile glass while I get yelled at for doing what any wife would do to protect her marriage. She’s trying to seduce you, Cassian! I see the way she looks at you. Pathetic little orphan playing damsel in distress. If I hadn’t punished her, she would have kept pushing until she replaced me!”

“That’s enough!” I growled, “You nearly killed her tonight. Hypothermia, possible permanent damage to her knees, trauma that could last a lifetime—and you stand here defending it? Defending the fact that you left a barely conscious girl in freezing water for almost ten hours? What kind of monster does that make you?”

Hanna laughed bitterly,She jabbed a finger at my chest. “Monster? I’m the one who’s been by your side for years while you chase ghosts from your past! Marie Gretel this, guilt that—when are you going to stop living in the past and see what’s right in front of you? Hazel is a manipulative b***h who wants my husband. And if you keep defending her, maybe I should have left her there longer. Maybe then you’d realize who really matters!”

Her words pushed every button I had left. The image of Hazel’s blue lips and numb legs flashed in my mind, mixing with the old guilt over Marie. My blood roared in my ears. The cold anger I had tried so hard to contain erupted.

I raised my hand, palm open, fury making my arm tremble with the urge to strike. For the first time in our marriage, I wanted to hit her. The impulse was raw and overwhelming. My fingers itched with it, the restraint I’d clung to all night fraying at the edges.

Hanna saw it. Her eyes widened in shock and fear, but she still didn’t back down. She lifted her chin higher, daring me.

“Go on,” she whispered venomously. “Hit me. Hit your wife over that street rat. Do it, Cassian. Show me how much that girl already means to you.”