Because lies always came to light.
And when mine did, there would be no forgiveness.
No second chances.
Just blood and betrayal and the end of everything.
I pressed my hand against my belly, feeling the slight swell that had started to show. My baby. Drew’s baby.
The only good thing I’d ever created.
And I’d burn the world down to protect them.
Chapter 17 – Drew
The rain tapped against the windows in a steady rhythm, each drop like a countdown to something inevitable. I sat in the living room, legs stretched out, arms crossed over my chest, watching the city blur behind sheets of water.
Maxim had returned from Moscow two weeks ago, which should have meant my ticket home. But Rafael had other plans. “Stay through the end of the year,” he’d said. “Maxim needs time to reintegrate, and these deals with the Italians need your touch.”
Behind me, in the kitchen, Cassandra was fixing herself something to eat. I could hear the clink of dishes, the soft pad of her bare feet on tile, the quiet hum she made when she was focused on something mundane.
It was domestic. Comfortable. Almost peaceful.
Almost.
Because underneath it all, there was a tension that never quite left. A weight that pressed down on both of us, unspoken but suffocating.
I’d been taking care of her for weeks now. Making sure she ate. Making sure she rested. Walking her to the office, keeping an eye on her throughout the day, driving her home. Hovering without meaning to, unable to stop myself.
And everyone had noticed.
The way I’d appear at her office door with water or tea. The way I’d intercept Rafael when he looked like he was about to dump another hundred tasks on her plate. The way I’d glare at anyone who so much as breathed too close to her.
The entire office was buzzing with speculation. Whispers in the hallways. Glances that lasted a second too long.
Even Rafael had noticed. He’d pulled me aside two days ago, his dark eyes sharp and calculating.
“What’s going on with you and Cassandra?” he’d asked, his tone neutral but his gaze deadly serious.
“Nothing,” I’d lied.
He’d studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Keep it that way. She’s good at her job. I don’t need complications.”
Complications.
That’s what we were. What this was.
A complication wrapped in lies, tied together with a baby neither of us had planned for.
Cassandra had been taking more days off than she ever had before. Not many—she was too stubborn for that—but enough that people noticed. Enough that Rafael’s suspicion was growing.
And I couldn’t protect her forever.
Not from Rafael. Not from the truth. Not from whatever she was hiding.
I turned my head slightly, watching her through the doorway. She was standing at the counter, her back to me, wearing one of my shirts that hung loose on her frame. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face.
She looked so goddamn beautiful it hurt.
