3rd POV
30 minutes ago...
Cassian’s eyes never left Isabelle’s straight back as she elegantly walked away with her shoulders squared as if nothing could touch her.
The door slammed shut after her, the sound echoing through the private room with a sharp and final thud. But it did nothing to settle the noise in his head.
Cassian stood there for a long moment, staring at the space she had just occupied.
He didn’t expect the eight-year-old girl who was always following him around would grow up to be such a charming woman... No. Not charming. Cunning.
He had imagined Isabelle would grow into someone predictable.... Entitled, full of pride, in fact, everything those rich heiresses in their circle were.
But her? The Isabelle he had just met? She was nothing as he predicted.
And yet... she had his interest.
No... Something was wrong.
He reached for the glass on the table and took a slow sip of wine, letting the silence stretch. The taste was dry, expensive, and familiar... unlike her.
The Isabelle he remembered was soft. Predictable. Fragile in a way that made her easy to ignore.
The sharp-tongued woman who stood in front of him today, the one who had looked him in the eye and lied without hesitation... He shook his head.
She talked back.
She provoked him.
She threatened to walk away from the marriage as if it meant nothing.
Cassian’s fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
She dared to use him.This was the first time he was used as a substitute.
She actually said she didn’t want to marry someone she didn’t love. She was just marrying him to replace the man she loved...
Who gave her the courage?
And yet... she trembled.
Not the kind of trembling that came from weakness. It was controlled. Suppressed. Like a body that had learned fear too well and refused to show it.
His gaze dropped unconsciously to where her hand had been.
That moment.
The concealer.
The way she reacted when he tried to touch it.
He set the glass down.
"What are you hiding, Isabelle?" He murmured under his breath.
The answer did not come. Instead, a knock came from the door.
"Enter."
Randy stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
"I saw the young mistress leaving," Randy said, sighing, as if hesitating. "So, I guess you told her you’re against the marriage alliance – which I think is going to anger the Iron Lady."
Cassian didn’t answer immediately. He walked past him, picking up his coat from the chair.
"She is not the Isabelle I remember," he said instead.
The room fell still.
Randy didn’t react right away, but Cassian could feel his attention sharpen.
"Not like the Isabelle you remember?" Randy repeated. "In what way exactly? Are you saying she’s someone else?" he continued.
"I’m not sure," Cassian replied.
And that was the problem.
If she were simply a fake, everything would be easy.
He would just expose her, destroy the Quinns, and finally end that goddamn alliance... Except that didn’t seem to be what he wanted now.
But she had walked into this room with nothing.
No preparation.
No control.
And still managed to stand in front of a loaded gun without collapsing.
His jaw tightened.
"She lied to me three times in less than ten minutes," Cassian continued. "And yet... none of her lies felt rehearsed." He paused. "They were instinctive."
Randy frowned slightly. "I know how easily you can tell if someone is lying just by their breath... but do you think the Quinns could be aware of something this huge regarding the marriage alliance?"
"I think," he said slowly, "that something is off."
Cassian picked up the wine bottle, pouring another glass without looking at it.
"The Quinns don’t make careless mistakes. Not with something like this."
"That’s right, I don’t think they’d dare," Randy said.
Cassian let out a quiet breath, the corner of his lips lifting just slightly.
"Of course. Because then, I’ll make sure they regret it."
Randy shifted his weight. "So does this mean you want to proceed with the marriage?"
Cassian turned his head slightly, his gaze drifting back to the door.
For a brief second, he saw it again.
Her.
Pressed against him.
Trembling.
Desperate.
Not to seduce.
Not to manipulate.
But to hide... From him...
Cassian’s cold eyes were filled with anger at the memory. He had never wanted to kill someone so much.
Damn woman, who allowed her to have a boyfriend behind his back? She was simply seeking death.
His eyes darkened as something else surfaced.
A memory.
Flashes of neon lights.
Music that pounded like a heartbeat.
A girl in a mask.
He frowned.
Why was he thinking about Mia right now? Wait... Could she...
The image slipped before he could catch it fully, the sound of his phone ringing interrupting his thoughts.
"Cancelling the marriage would be too easy," he said.
"And you don’t like easy," Randy replied, smirking. He had served Cassian long enough to recognize that tone. It was the tone Cassian used when his mind hatched perfectly laid-out plans to bring things back under his control.
"No."
Cassian set the glass down with a soft click.
"If she’s a lie... then I want to see how far that lie can go."
Randy was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "And if she’s not?"
That made him pause.
Not Isabelle.
Not a lie.
Something else.
Something he couldn’t name.
Something that felt...
Familiar.
Cassian frowned slightly, irritated by the thought.
"Then I’ll find out what she is," he said coldly.
He walked toward the door, stopping just long enough to answer his phone, seeing it was his grandmother calling.
How predictable.
"You brat, don’t tell me the date has already ended. Tell me, you didn’t intimidate poor Isabelle, right?"
"Set the date, Grandmother," he told her. "I’ll marry the Quinn girl just like you want."
"W–what?"
Oh, how he wished he had said this in person and seen his grandmother, the legendary Iron Lady, stammer for the first time in decades.
"You are telling me you agreed to marry Isabelle just like that after meeting her again in fifteen years when you’ve been against it forever?" She asked, her voice regaining its sharp edge now.
"Of course," Cassian said flatly. "Since it’s Grandmother’s wish, I’ll reluctantly oblige. But I can refuse if—"
Randy shook his head.
How thick-skinned could his young master be? He changed his mind himself but was making it seem like he was unwilling.
"Don’t you dare, young man. I’ll call the Quinns right away."
The call ended after those words, and Cassian turned to Randy.
"You know what to do. Find out all the wedding details from my grandmother."
Randy nodded. "Yes, Young Master."
His hand rested briefly on the door handle.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then, quietly,
"Also..."
Randy waited.
"Have someone look into her. Everything. I want to know what she’s been up to for the past fifteen years."
"Understood."
Cassian opened the door.
But before he stepped out, one last thought crossed his mind.
The way she looked at him.
Not like someone who had seen him for a long time. No, it was as if she knew him.
She wasn’t like those rich heiresses who practically switched into perfect bride candidates whenever they saw him...
His grip on the handle tightened.
"...And Randy."
"Yes?"
"If she tries to run..."
His voice dropped, calm and absolute.
"Don’t stop her."
Randy hesitated. "You want her to escape?"
A faint, dangerous smile touched Cassian’s lips.
"I want to see what she does when she thinks she’s free."
Cassian stepped out into the hallway.
The door closed behind him with a quiet click.
And for the first time in a long time...
He felt something close to anticipation.
Let’s see what you’re hiding... Isabelle Quinn.