Yvette’s POV
I fled to my room on shaky legs, stormed into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.
"Ugh, Yvette, what is wrong with you?" I muttered under my breath.
This wasn’t the time to be getting affected by Cassian. I needed to get my head straight.
I needed to be clear-headed, especially with Ryan hovering around having leverage on my head.
I walked back and plopped myself on the bed.
Now that I had lost the perfect opportunity to find the diary, I needed to come up with another plan.
I needed something to gain leverage over Ryan. The silver lining was that I still have a few days left before the meeting.
I must find a way out.
One mistake and I lose everything. I might even put the Quinns in danger.
That’s why I couldn’t keep facing Cassian with my head in the clouds and my emotions all over the place.
I must kill all these feelings growing within me.
But how do I stop something that keeps growing each single second? I can’t help the attraction I feel towards him.
How do I stop myself when he’s practically all I think about?
I stared at the walls for a long time, my mind a chaotic mess. I didn’t know how long had passed, but I was used to the silence, letting it wrap around me.
By the time I realised, I saw the sun setting through the curtains, and my eyelids were growing heavy.
A knock on the door brought me back to the present.
"Isabelle, Isabelle, are you in there? Can we talk?" Roxanne’s voice sounded behind the door.
For a moment, I didn’t want to answer. I was already regretting my decision of inviting her over to visit.
"Isabelle, can I come in? I know you can hear me," she said, followed by the door handle turning.
Great!
Roxanne found me before I could hide.
"I’m so sorry," she blurted the moment she reached me, her voice unusually soft for once. "About earlier. I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you and Cassian. I was just talking and then—"
"You don’t need to apologise," I cut in gently, offering her a small smile. "It’s fine. Cassian and I... we already settled it."
That wasn’t a lie... not entirely.
Roxanne’s shoulders visibly relaxed. "Really?"
"Really."
Her smile returned instantly—bright and relieved—and then the loud, carefree Roxanne was back.
"Then come out with us!"
My smile faltered. "What?"
"A night out!" she said, already grabbing my hand. "You’ve been cooped up in this house for days. It’ll do you good. We’ll just go somewhere nice, eat, and relax—nothing crazy."
"I don’t think that’s a good idea," I said immediately, pulling my hand back. "I have lessons, and I’m still—"
"Still what? Angry?" she interrupted, tilting her head. "You said you weren’t."
"I’m not. I just—"
"Oh, just go with them." Estelle’s voice drifted in as she stepped into the room, her expression warm but knowing. "A change of environment will do you good, Isabelle. You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately."
Indeed, I was under a lot of pressure.
If only she knew Roxanne was the actual pressure cooker.
I hesitated.
"But I was just about to—"
"Please? If you don’t come, I’ll feel terrible all evening thinking you hate me." Roxanne leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
I didn’t hate her.
But I was starting to hate this situation.
"...Fine," I exhaled. "But nothing too long. I must come back early."
Roxanne squealed. "Let me help you get prepared."
Estelle smiled and left us alone.
She entered the closet, and before I could blink, she had begun choosing dresses for me.
She settled for a black open-back sleeveless dress. It was long, reaching my ankle with a long slit on the left reaching mid-thigh.
"Umm... This is too much. I think I’ll go with the high-neck dress," I said, pointing to a coffee-brown turtle neck.
"No, that’s going to hide all your beauty. Trust me on this," she insisted.
That should have been my first warning.
The second came when we stepped outside and Ryan was already there.
He was leaning casually against the black SUV as if he were posing for a magazine cover, dressed in dark slacks and a fitted shirt, his expression unreadable.
My stomach tightened.
"You’re coming too?" I asked flatly.
He pushed himself off the car, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Of course. I wouldn’t let my little sister go out alone."
The way he said it made my skin crawl.
I didn’t have time to argue because Roxanne was already pulling me toward the car.
~~~
We took about 40 minutes to reach the location Ryan and Roxanne were talking about.
It was almost 7:30pm, and the sky was dark.
I stepped out of the car and took in my surroundings. Roxanne had already stepped out and hooked her hand through my elbow.
"Let’s go, Isabelle," she said.
My phone buzzed.
My breath hitched when I saw the name.
Cassian.
I hesitated... then answered. "Hello?"
"Where are you?" He asked directly: no greeting, no softness.
Just that low, controlled voice that always seemed to wrap around my throat.
"I’m at home," I replied smoothly, turning slightly away from the others.
He didn’t speak, and for a while I thought he had hung up. If not for the sound of his breath still reaching me.
"Um, hello?"
"You’re lying." My heart skipped.
"I’m not—"
"Your breathing changes when you lie."
Damn him.
I swallowed, forcing my voice to be steady. "I just stepped outside for some air."
Another silence.
This one was worse.
"Go back."
It wasn’t a suggestion.
It was an order.
My fingers tightened around the phone. "I can’t. I’m... with my family."
Something dark shifted on the other end.
"I see."
The way he said it made my chest tighten.
"Enjoy your evening, Isabelle."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone for a second longer than necessary.
Why did that feel like a warning?
It didn’t take long for things to start feeling wrong.
"This isn’t a restaurant," I said slowly, staring at the neon lights flashing across the building.
Music pulsed through the walls—loud, heavy, vibrating through my bones.
Roxanne grinned. "Surprise?"
I turned to her. "You said we were going somewhere quiet."
"We are! Quietly fun," she corrected, already dragging me toward the entrance.
"I don’t... Roxanne, I don’t do places like this—"
"You’ll be fine," Ryan cut in from behind me. He was standing too close.
Way too close.
"I’m here, aren’t I?" he said, as if it made any difference.
That wasn’t reassuring.
That was the problem.