We need to talk.
Don’t ignore me, Cassandra.
I turned my phone off and shoved it under the couch cushion.
I was done. Done with Vance. Done with his manipulation. Done with being his weapon.
Because I wasn’t going to let my baby grow up like I did—raised by strangers, haunted by what-ifs and half-truths, wondering where they came from and why they were abandoned.
My child deserved better.
Ideserved better.
***
Days turned into weeks.
I started living with Drew. Not because he asked, but because he simply didn’t take me home. Kept my things at his place. Made room for me in his closet. Stocked the fridge with foods I liked.
He took care of me in ways I didn’t know I needed.
Made sure I ate. Made sure I rested. Made sure I took my prenatal vitamins—vitamins he’d bought without me asking.
He didn’t hover. Didn’t suffocate me. But he was always there. A steady, solid presence that made me feel safe for the first time in years.
And somewhere along the way, I started to fall for him.
Not the desperate, reckless attraction we’d had before. Not the itch that needed scratching.
This was deeper. Quieter. More terrifying.
I fell for the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. Fell for the way his hand always found mine when we sat together. Fell for the way he talked to my belly when he thought I was asleep, his voice soft and full of promises.
“You’re going to be okay,” he’d whisper. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
And I believed him.
Everybody at the office knew we were living together. I could see it in their glances, their whispers, the way conversations stopped when I walked into a room.
But no one dared to say anything.
Not to Drew. And definitely not to Rafael.
Rafael himself said nothing. Just watched me with those dark, calculating eyes, like he was waiting for something. Waiting for me to slip up. Waiting for the truth to come out.
I kept my pregnancy hidden. Wore loose shirts. Avoided Hailey and Barbara because they’d notice immediately. Stopped going to the club. Stopped answering Vance’s calls and messages.
I was trying to disappear into the life Drew was building for us. Trying to pretend that the past two years hadn’t happened. That I wasn’t a traitor. That I hadn’t destroyed everything.
But the guilt never left.
It sat in my chest like a stone, heavy and unforgiving.
Every time Drew looked at me, I wondered if today would be the day he figured it out. The day he put the pieces together and realized that I was the reason for the ambush. The reason three men almost died. The reason the Bratva lost millions.
And every time he kissed me, every time he held me, every time he whispered that everything would be okay, I wanted to believe him.
But I knew better.
