Zara's POV
The penthouse was nothing like the mansion. Where Jason's house had been all marble and gold, designed to impress guests and display wealth, Cassian's space was something else entirely. Dark hardwood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, furniture in blacks and grays that looked expensive but minimalist. Everything was clean lines and sharp angles, no warmth anywhere.
It felt like walking into the mind of someone who didn't let anyone close.
"This is where you live?" I asked, my voice small in the cavernous space.
"When I'm not at the mansion, yes." Cassian set my bag down by the door and moved to the windows, pressing a button that made blackout shades descend silently. "The building has twenty-four hour security. Private elevator that requires a key card. No one gets up here without my permission."
"So I'm a prisoner."
"You're protected." He turned to face me. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he gestured down a hallway. "Your room is the second door on the left. Private bathroom, walk-in closet. I'll have clothes delivered tomorrow since you left most of yours behind."
"I can't afford new clothes."
"I didn't ask you to pay for them."
Pride wanted me to refuse. But I was wearing a three-day-old shirt and jeans I'd washed in a motel sink. Pride was a luxury I couldn't afford anymore.
"Thank you," I said stiffly.
"Don't thank me yet." He moved to the kitchen, all stainless steel and granite. "When's the last time you ate something substantial?"
I couldn't remember. "This morning. I think."
"You think." He pulled open the massive refrigerator, which was surprisingly well-stocked for a bachelor. "Sit down. I'll make something."
"You cook?"
"I survive." He started pulling out ingredients. Eggs, vegetables, bread. "Unlike Jason, I wasn't raised with servants doing everything for me. I learned to take care of myself."
I perched on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, watching him work. His movements were efficient, practiced. Nothing like Jason's helplessness in a kitchen, his complaints when I didn't have dinner ready exactly when he wanted it.
"Why do you hate him so much?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Cassian's knife paused mid-chop. "You want the truth or the version that won't give you nightmares?"
"The truth."
He resumed cutting vegetables, his focus on the task. "Our father, Richard Hartley, had an affair with my mother when he was engaged to Jason's mother, Catherine. I was born six months before Jason. For the first five years of my life, I had a father who visited sometimes, who promised we'd be a real family someday."
He cracked eggs into a pan, the sizzle loud in the quiet kitchen.
"Then Catherine found out about us. She gave Richard an ultimatum. Choose his legitimate family or lose everything, his company, his reputation, his place in society." Cassian's voice was flat, emotionless. "He chose them. Cut my mother off completely. We went from a nice apartment to a one-bedroom walk-up in two weeks. My mother worked three jobs to keep us fed."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It gets better." His smile was bitter. "When I was twelve, my mother got sick. Cancer. No insurance, no money for treatment. I wrote to Richard, begged him for help. He sent a check for five thousand dollars and a note that said 'This is the last time. Don't contact me again.'"
The eggs were done. He added vegetables, cheese, folded it all into a perfect omelet.
"My mother died six months later. I ended up in foster care until I was eighteen." He slid the plate in front of me. "Meanwhile, Jason grew up in a mansion, went to private schools, had everything handed to him. Same father, same blood, completely different lives. All because his mother was the right kind of woman and mine wasn't."
I stared at the food, my appetite gone. "That's horrible."
"That's life." He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "When I turned eighteen, I found out Richard had left provisions for me in his will. Not much, but enough to go to college, start a business. He felt guilty, apparently. Just not guilty enough to acknowledge me while he was alive."
"Is that why you live in the mansion now?"
"Richard died three years ago. Left the mansion to both of us, equally. Jason tried to buy me out. I refused. So now we live in the same house and pretend the other doesn't exist." He watched me push the food around my plate. "Eat, Zara. You're feeding two now."
The reminder made my stomach clench. I forced myself to take a bite. The omelet was good, better than anything I'd made in months.
"Jason doesn't know any of this, does he?" I asked between bites.
"He knows the basic facts. But he's never bothered to understand what it meant. To him, I'm just the bastard son who won't go away. An embarrassment he has to tolerate." Cassian's eyes darkened. "And now I've taken something else he considered his. His wife. His child. It's killing him."
"Is that what I am to you? A weapon against Jason?"
He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was quieter.
"At first, maybe. But now..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Finish eating. You need rest."
I wanted to push, to demand he finish that sentence. But exhaustion was crashing over me in waves. The hospital, the confrontation, the drive here, it was all catching up.
Cassian showed me to the bedroom. It was large but spare, like the rest of the penthouse. A king-sized bed with black sheets, a dresser, a door leading to the bathroom.
"I'm across the hall if you need anything," he said from the doorway. "Try to sleep."
But sleep wouldn't come.
I lay in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling, one hand pressed to my still-flat stomach. A baby. Cassian's baby. The reality of it kept hitting me in waves, each one harder than the last.
I didn't know anything about being a mother. Didn't know if I even wanted this. But abortion felt wrong, keeping it felt impossible, and adoption meant Jason would fight me in court for custody just to spite Cassian.
There was no good choice.
Around midnight, I heard movement in the penthouse. Footsteps in the hall, a door opening and closing. I got up, wrapped in the robe I'd found in the bathroom, and ventured out.
Cassian was in the kitchen again, drinking what looked like whiskey, staring out at the city lights.
"Can't sleep either?" I asked.
He glanced at me, his eyes traveling over the robe. Something flickered in his expression before he looked away.
"I don't sleep much."
"Nightmares?"
"Memories. Same thing." He took another drink. "You should be resting."
"I can't." I moved closer, maintaining a careful distance. "My mind won't stop."
"Welcome to my world."
We stood in silence for a while, both of us watching the city below. From up here, everything looked small and manageable. The problems that felt insurmountable seemed distant, contained.
"Cassian," I said quietly. "What you said earlier, about wanting me. Not just because of the baby. What did you mean?"
He set down his glass slowly. "You really want to know?"
"Yes."
He turned to face me fully, and the intensity in his gray eyes made my breath catch.
"That night, three weeks ago. You came to my room broken and desperate, and I should have sent you away. Should have called someone, gotten you help. But I didn't." He took a step closer. "Because I'd been watching you for months, Zara. Watching Jason destroy you piece by piece, watching you shrink and fade. And I wanted to know if there was still fire underneath all that damage."
"And was there?"
"Yes." Another step. "You burned so bright that night. All that pain turned into passion, all that need channeled into something raw and real. It was the most honest thing I'd ever seen."
My heart pounded. "I don't remember."
"I know. Maybe that's better." He was close now, close enough that I could smell his cologne, feel the heat of his body. "But I remember everything. Every sound you made, every way you responded to my touch. You were magnificent."
"Stop." My voice shook.
"Why? Because the truth makes you uncomfortable?" His hand came up, fingers grazing my cheek. "You felt something that night, Zara. Something you never felt with Jason. And it terrifies you."
He was right. God help me, he was right.
"This is wrong," I whispered.
"Probably." His thumb traced my lower lip. "But when has that ever stopped anyone?"
I should have stepped back. Should have gone to my room, locked the door, kept the distance between us. Instead, I stood frozen as he leaned down, his breath warm against my ear.
"I want you," he murmured. "Not because of Jason, not because of revenge. I want you because you're strong enough to survive him, brave enough to fight back, and stubborn enough to stand here arguing with me when you should be running."
"I have nowhere to run."
"No. You don't." His lips brushed my temple, feather-light. "So stop fighting and let me take care of you. Let me give you what he never could."
"And what's that?"
"Safety. Protection. Someone who sees your worth."
The words cracked something open inside me. When was the last time anyone had made me feel valuable? When had Jason ever looked at me like I was something precious instead of something burdensome?
Cassian pulled back, his hand dropping away.
"Go to bed, Zara. Before I do something we'll both regret."
I went, but his words followed me. Haunted me through the sleepless night.
The next three days passed in a strange suspended reality. Cassian left early and came back late, but he always made sure I had food, that the penthouse was stocked with everything I might need. A private doctor came by to examine me, confirming the pregnancy and prescribing prenatal vitamins.
Clothes appeared in the closet, expensive brands I'd never been able to afford. Soft fabrics, comfortable styles, everything in my size.
"How did you know what I needed?" I asked when Cassian came home that evening.
"I pay attention." He set down his briefcase. "The doctor said you're underweight. We need to fix that."
"I'm fine."
"You're not. You're stressed, malnourished, and exhausted." He moved closer, his hand coming up to tilt my chin. "If you won't take care of yourself for your own sake, do it for the baby."
The baby. Always the baby.
Was that all I was to him? An incubator for his revenge child?
That night, I was sitting in the living room, trying to read a book and failing miserably, when the doorbell rang. Cassian was in his study, working late. I froze, uncertain whether to answer.
The bell rang again, more insistent. I crept to the door and checked the peephole.
Tessa. My heart dropped.
"I know you're in there, Zara," she called through the door. "I can see the lights on. We need to talk."
"Go away."
"Not until you listen to me. Please. Just five minutes."
Against my better judgment, I opened the door but left the chain on. Tessa looked different than I'd ever seen her. No makeup, hair pulled back messily, her eyes red-rimmed like she'd been crying.
"How did you find this place?" I asked.
"I followed you from the hospital. Well, I followed Cassian's car." She pressed closer to the door. "Please, Zara. I need to talk to you. Alone."
"We have nothing to say to each other."
"Yes, we do. It's about the baby. About Jason. Please."
Something in her voice made me hesitate. She sounded desperate, genuinely scared.
I shouldn't have done it. Shouldn't have trusted her. But I opened the door. Tessa pushed inside quickly, glancing around the penthouse with wide eyes. "Wow. This place is incredible. Jason's going to lose his mind when he finds out Cassian's keeping you here like some kind of princess in a tower."
"What do you want, Tessa?"
She turned to me, and all the vulnerability vanished from her face. It was a mask, I realized. She'd played me.
"I want you to get rid of it."
"What?"
"The baby. Get rid of it." She moved closer, her voice low and urgent. "You don't understand what you've done. Jason is obsessed with this child now, with beating Cassian. He's barely sleeping, barely eating. All he talks about is custody battles and paternity tests and revenge."
"That's not my problem."
"Yes, it is! Because I love him, Zara. I've loved him for years, and you were in the way. But now, even though you're gone, you're still ruining everything!" Her voice rose, shrill and desperate. "That baby is destroying any chance I have with him. So get rid of it."
"You're insane."
"I'm practical." She grabbed my arm, her nails digging in. "Get an abortion. Tell everyone you miscarried. Then Jason can forget about you and move on with me. Everyone wins."
"Except the baby you want me to kill."
"It's not a baby yet. It's just cells. Just a problem that needs to be solved." Her grip tightened. "Do it, Zara. Or I swear to God, I'll make your life hell. I'll tell everyone you're an unfit mother. I'll spread rumors about drug use, mental instability. I'll make sure you never see that child once it's born."
Tears burned my eyes. Not from fear, but from the sheer weight of everything crashing down on me at once.
"Please leave."
"Not until you agree."
"I said leave!" My voice broke on a sob.
"Make me."
A door opened behind me.
Cassian's voice was colder than I'd ever heard it.
"Get your hands off her. Now."
Tessa jumped back, her face going pale.
Cassian moved past me with predatory grace, backing Tessa toward the door. She stumbled, nearly falling.
"I was just, we were just talking.."
"You were threatening her. I heard everything." He opened the door, his expression carved from ice. "You have ten seconds to leave before I throw you out. Literally."
"You can't.."
"Ten. Nine. Eight."
Tessa fled, her footsteps echoing in the hallway.
Cassian slammed the door and locked it, including the deadbolt and chain. Then he turned to me. I was shaking, tears streaming down my face, the weight of Tessa's threats combining with weeks of stress and fear.
"I can't do this," I sobbed. "I can't fight all of them. Jason, Tessa, the lawyers. I'm not strong enough."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not! Look at me! I'm falling apart!"
Cassian crossed the space between us and pulled me against his chest. His arms came around me, solid and warm, holding me while I broke.
"Listen to me," he said, his voice low and intense. "Tessa is nothing. Jason is nothing. They can threaten all they want, but they can't touch you here. I won't let them."
"You can't protect me from everything."
"Watch me." He pulled back just enough to look down at me, his hands framing my face. "If you ever cry because of them again, Zara, I'll burn this whole city down. Do you understand? I'll destroy everything Jason loves, everything Tessa wants, until there's nothing left but ashes."
The words should have scared me. Instead, they made me feel safe. Because I believed him. Believed in the darkness I saw in his eyes, the barely controlled violence simmering beneath his calm surface. Cassian would burn the world for me. Not because he loved me. But because I was his. And he protected what was his..