Chapter 6 She's back

‎ LYSANDRA

‎The silence in the dining room was like a physical weight, broken only by the precise, metallic click of his fork against the fine china. For the several days I've arrived here, this had been the soundtrack of my life. The grand, sterile house felt less like a home and more like a beautifully appointed prison.

‎I set my own fork down, the sound too loud in the quiet. "I can't do this anymore. Stay in this house for six months and just… decay. It's just me and the staff, and they look straight through me. It's suffocating."

‎Cassian didn't look up from his plate. "They are terms you agreed to." His voice was a low, smooth baritone, softer than I expected, which somehow made it worse.

‎"I agreed to be here. Not to cease existing. I'm not used to this… this nothingness."

‎"The library is extensive. The home theatre is at your disposal." He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes like chips of ice. "Find a distraction."

‎"They're just different versions of the same empty room!" The words spilled out, sharper and louder than I intended. I saw a flicker in his eyes—a warning—and I immediately recoiled. What have I done? "You instructed them not to speak to me, didn't you? What am I, a ghost? You leave before dawn, you come back God knows when. You don't speak to me. It's like I'm the only person left on earth. You don't see me as a person at all, do you? I'm just an asset, a transaction."

‎I held my breath, waiting for the storm. But it didn't come. He simply watched me, that eerie calm settling over his features again, more terrifying than any outburst.

‎"I believe I told you never to raise your voice at me." The words were quiet, absolute.

‎A cold dread washed over me. "I'm sorry," I whispered, the apology swallowed by the vast, quiet room.

‎Silence descended once more. He resumed eating, each click of the fork a punctuation mark in my humiliation. I picked at my food, the need to break the silence, to salvage something, gnawing at me.

‎"You still haven't answered my question." My voice was meek now, carefully controlled.

‎One of his dark eyebrows arched. "Question?"

‎"Sir," I added, the title feeling foreign and bitter on my tongue.

‎A slow, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "Sir? I like that. It suits you."

‎He was enjoying this. My submission was a game to him. The realization burned, but I smothered the spark. I couldn't afford his anger. Not with Elara's life in the balance.

‎"My question was about finding a job. Something to do. Anything."

‎He studied me. "Is this about money?"

‎"Shouldn't it be? I don't know my fate when this… contract ends. I need something for my sister. She can't struggle after she's finally well."

‎For a fraction of a second, something shifted in his expression. Was that a smile? It was gone before I could be sure, replaced by his usual mask of cool indifference.

‎"I am Cassian Vale," he stated, as if that explained everything. "When our business is concluded, you will want for nothing. Consider it a bonus for services rendered. I take care of what is mine."

‎"I know exactly who you are. But your money isn't mine. And I am not 'yours'."

‎"Must I remind you of the agreement? I bought your compliance."

‎"You purchased my time. Not my person."

‎"You are whatever I say you are, Lysandra." The arrogance in his tone was a palpable thing. I imagined the satisfying crack of my palm against his cheek, the shock it would bring to his perfect features. A dangerous, fleeting fantasy. He held all the power, and the only thing that mattered was the hospital bed my sister was lying in.

‎"How is Elara?" I asked, forcing my voice to be light, desperate to steer us away from the cliff's edge. "How is her treatment progressing?"

‎"Dr. Shaw reports she is responding well. No complications."

‎The relief was a tangible wave, the only thing keeping me afloat in this ocean of tension. I nodded, focusing on my plate.

‎Then, a low buzz from his phone on the table. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly, and dismissed it.

‎"Why don't you answer? Is it Sebastian again?" The question was out before I could stop myself.

‎He set his fork down with a sharp, final clink. "That is none of your concern. Finish your meal. You're dismissed to your room."

‎"You just said I was yours," I pressed, a reckless courage seizing me. "But I'm not permitted to ask who disrupts your dinner?"

‎He rose from his chair, his height and presence suddenly dominating the room. "Thread carefully," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You answer to me. Not the other way around."

‎"You haven't finished—"

‎"Eat it. And learn the value of silence. Goodnight."

‎He turned and left, his footsteps echoing in the hall. The air he left behind was cold and charged. That call… it had changed everything. Who was important enough to fracture his icy control?

‎

‎CASSIAN

‎Her frustration was… entertaining. A splash of color in the monochrome order of my world. I could feel her fear, a subtle vibration in the air, and it was a testament to the control I demanded.

‎Then my phone had buzzed, shattering the moment. A text lit up the screen: Where are you, Cassy? - Victoria.

‎I didn't flinch, but the familiar irritation coiled in my gut. I’d told her to stop using that childish name. Then the phone vibrated again, a call this time. I would deal with it in private. My mother only called with interruptions.

‎"Why aren't you picking up? Or is that Sebastian again?"

‎Her voice, laced with a boldness she was quickly reclaiming, cut through my thoughts. Sebastian? That problem would be handled soon .Permanently.

‎"It's none of your concern," I bit out, leaving before her newfound defiance could provoke me further.

‎In the sanctuary of my room, I loosened my tie. The phone rang again, persistent.

‎"Mother."

‎"Cassy! Guess who's back in the country?"

‎"Don't call me that." My voice was flat.

‎"Oh, hush. You'll always be my little boy. Evelyn just called. Diana's flight arrives tomorrow. JFK. Nine AM. You'll be there to collect her."

‎"Diana?" The name was a stone in my shoe. "Mother, I—"

‎"Don't play dumb, Cassian. You will be there. Personally."

‎"I have a board meeting at eight. A new partnership with Crown Atlantic Records. I'll send a car."

‎"Cancel it." Her tone brooked no argument. "You are not afraid of losing a deal; you are the deal they want. This is non-negotiable. I'll tell Diana to expect you. Goodnight, Cassy."

‎The line went dead. I stared at my reflection in the dark window, my expression grim. With a snarl of frustration, I hurled the phone onto the bed.

‎Diana. A hurricane in designer clothing. And she was arriving at the worst possible time.