Mira didn't remember how long she stood in the cold driveway after the gates of the Serrano Estate closed behind her. Her father's final words still echoed in her ears—so calm, so measured, so final—that the ground beneath her felt unfamiliar, unsteady. She only moved when the wind picked up, stinging her eyes and forcing her to wipe her cheeks.
She had nowhere to go.
Not anymore.
Her phone buzzed in her palm, startling her. She glanced down, half expecting it to be Livia or her mother asking if she was okay.
But it was a name she hadn't expected to see.
Cassian Draymond.
Her breath caught. Of all times… why now?
She opened the message.
Cassian: I'll handle everything in the media.
No greeting. No explanation. No softness.
Just a statement. A promise. A responsibility.
Her eyes blurred as she typed slowly, each word trembling.
Mira: I'm… I'm disowned.
I'm no longer the heiress of the Serrano Empire.
She didn't add anything else. She didn't have the strength to.
She pressed send and lowered her head, letting a single tear slip free and fall onto the back of her hand.
Minutes passed. Long enough for doubt to creep in. Long enough for her to wonder if, despite the baby growing inside her, he would decide it wasn't his problem anymore.
Then her screen lit up.
Cassian: Come to me.
Draymond Tower. Private residence level.
I'll take care of you.
She read the message again and again. The words weren't warm, but they were steady—grounded. Nothing like the chaos she had just walked out of. Nothing like the ice-cold dismissal her father had thrown at her.
He wasn't telling her to come because he wanted her.
He was telling her to come because he had decided she was now his responsibility.
It hurt—but it was also the only lifeline she had left.
Mira swallowed hard and typed one final message.
Mira: Okay. I'll come.
She didn't know what life waited for her there. She didn't know what Cassian intended beyond the duty he had imposed on himself. But she had no other path. Not tonight.
She turned back toward the estate for the last time.
She still had to pack.
---
When Mira walked back into the house, the tension was thick enough to cling to her skin. Livia stood at the base of the stairs, eyes red, while Elena lingered near the living room doorway, her hands clasped too tightly to look composed.
"Mira," Livia breathed, rushing toward her. "Where did you go? Why did Dad… why did he say all that? You didn't even fight him, you just—"
"I'm going to pack," Mira said softly, brushing past her and heading upstairs.
Livia followed immediately, her voice shaking. "Pack? Pack for what? Mira, what do you mean pack?"
Mira didn't answer until they reached her room. She stared at the familiar space—the lavender curtains, the framed photos, the neatly arranged bookshelf. All the things that had once meant safety.
Now, they were just remnants of a life she wasn't allowed to have anymore.
She opened her suitcase with quiet hands.
"Mira, stop," Livia said, her voice cracking. "Tell me what's going on. Where are you going?"
Mira folded the first set of clothes slowly before answering. "To the person who said he would take responsibility."
Livia froze. "You mean… him? Cassian Draymond?" Her voice trembled with disbelief. "No. No, Mira, you can't. Dad will—Dad will lose his mind if he finds out."
"Dad already threw me out," Mira said gently, refusing to let her voice break. "There's nothing more he can do."
"But that doesn't mean you have to leave!" Livia cried, grabbing her hand. "Stay. I'll talk to Mom. We'll convince him together. You don't have to run to Cassian—"
"I'm not running to him." Mira closed the suitcase and finally lifted her head. "I'm going because I have nowhere else to go. And because… it's his responsibility now."
Livia's eyes filled with tears. "You're going because of the baby, aren't you?"
Mira looked away.
Livia shook her head helplessly. "I can't believe this. You're leaving us for him. For them. For the Draymonds."
Mira stepped forward and pulled her sister into a tight hug. "I'm not leaving you. I'm just… going somewhere else. For now."
"But I want you here," Livia whispered. "I want things to be normal again."
Mira closed her eyes. "I know. But nothing is normal anymore."
The bedroom door creaked open, and Elena stood there, already crying.
"Mira…" Her voice trembled. "Your father is stubborn. When he decides something, it's like stone. But I—" She inhaled shakily. "I don't want you to go alone."
Mira rushed into her mother's arms. Elena held her tightly, stroking her hair the way she had when Mira was a child.
"You're strong," Elena whispered. "Stronger than your father knows. This doesn't have to be your end. Maybe… maybe it's the beginning of something else."
Mira didn't feel strong. She felt terrified. But hearing her mother say it gave her the strength to stand upright again.
"Where will you stay?" Elena asked softly.
Mira hesitated, then answered honestly. "Cassian asked me to come to Draymond Tower."
Elena's breath caught, but her arms tightened instead of loosening. "If he gave you his word—then go. Even as a Draymond… if he promised to take care of you, then go."
"No!" Livia protested. "Mom, how can you say that? She's going to the enemy!"
Both of them looked at Mira.
"She's going to the father of her child," Elena said gently but firmly. "Livia told me. And right now, that matters more than the rivalry between two old men."
Mira broke down then, tears spilling freely.
Her mother cupped her face. "You'll find your way. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But you will."
Those words settled into Mira's chest like a fragile promise. She hugged them both again before lifting her suitcase.
"I'll call," she whispered. "Every day."
"You better," Livia muttered through tears. "If you don't, I'll come to Draymond Tower myself and drag you back."
Mira smiled weakly. "I know."
She walked down the staircase for the last time, her mother and sister watching her like she was taking a piece of their hearts with her.
Maybe she was.
The driver Cassian sent arrived exactly when promised—a black car with tinted windows. No crest. No symbol. Nothing that screamed Draymond. Nothing that would attract the media.
Mira slipped inside quietly, her suitcase beside her. The estate gates opened once more, but this time, there was no comfort in crossing them.
Only the ache of leaving behind everything she had ever known.
The city blurred past as the car drove toward Draymond Tower, its glass structure looming against the skyline—cold, powerful, untouchable.
Just like Cassian himself.
A private elevator was waiting when she arrived. A guard typed in a code and stepped aside.
"Private residence floor," he said. "He asked us to bring you straight up."
Mira swallowed as she stepped inside alone. The higher the elevator climbed, the faster her heart pounded.
Was she doing the right thing?
Was she walking into another mistake?
When the doors opened, Cassian stood near the window, the city lights spread beneath him. He didn't turn immediately. He didn't rush toward her.
But when he finally looked back, his gaze swept over her—neither gentle nor dismissive.
"You came," he said.
Mira nodded. "You told me to."
He studied her quietly. "You told me what happened with your father."
She looked down, unable to meet his eyes.
"You're under my responsibility now," Cassian said evenly. "I meant what I said."
"I don't expect anything from you," Mira replied, her grip tightening on her suitcase.
"I didn't say you had to," he answered. "But I take responsibility for what I create."
Her pulse skipped.
He wasn't talking about her.
He was talking about the child.
He motioned slightly. "Set your bags down. We'll talk after."
Mira hesitated. "Cassian… I don't know what you expect from me being here."
His jaw shifted. "I don't expect anything. I said I'd take care of you. And I will."
The words weren't emotional.
They were a vow.
Binding.
Mira exhaled, the last piece of her former life slipping away.
She had stepped into a new one—shaped by an unborn child, an impossible rivalry, and a man who didn't offer warmth, but offered something else.
Security.
Responsibility.
A place to stay when she had none.
It wasn't love.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
But tonight, it was enough.