CASS
I wake up to sunlight streaming through the windows and a notification on my new laptop.
SECURE MESSAGING APP INSTALLED. CONTACT LIST IMPORTED.
There's only one name in the contacts: Liz Chen.
My best friend. The thought comes automatically, along with a flash of memory—laughing over coffee, late-night study sessions, someone who actually saw me as Cass, not just a Whitmore.
I need to talk to her.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. What do I even say? Hey, I'm alive, married to our family's sworn enemy, and my father tried to kill me?
Before I can overthink it, I type: Liz, it's Cass. I'm okay. I need to talk. Please.
I hit send.
Three dots appear immediately. She's online.
LIZ: CASS?! OMG WHERE ARE YOU?? YOUR FAMILY SAYS YOU'RE MISSING. MARCUS IS LOSING IT. ARE YOU SAFE??
I take a breath and type: I'm safe. But I need you to promise not to tell anyone we're talking. Not my family. Not Marcus. No one.
LIZ: You're scaring me. What's going on?
Me: Everything I thought I knew is a lie. My father, Marcus, Vanessa—they tried to have me committed. Or worse.
LIZ: Wait, WHAT?
Me: Can we video call? This is too much to type.
Seconds later, my laptop rings. I answer.
Liz's face fills the screen. She looks exactly like I remember—short black hair, sharp eyes, currently wide with shock.
Oh my God, you're really okay, she breathes. Cass, what the hell is happening? The news is saying you had a breakdown and disappeared three days before your wedding.
That's what they want everyone to think. I keep my voice steady. But the truth is I found evidence that my father has been embezzling from the company. That he's been laundering money with Marcus. And that he murdered someone to get their properties.
Liz's jaw drops. Are you serious?
Completely. When I found the proof, I ran. I went to the one person I knew they couldn't control.
Who?
Damien Thornwood.
Silence. Then: Please tell me you're joking.
I'm not. We got married three days ago.
YOU WHAT?! Liz practically shouts. You married Damien Thornwood? The guy your father has hated for like, forever? The billionaire CEO who your family has been feuding with since—
Since his parents died in a fire my father orchestrated, I finish quietly.
Liz stares at me through the screen. Cass, I need you to start from the beginning. All of it. Because this sounds insane.
So I tell her. Everything. The missing memories. The elevator footage. The USB drive. The marriage. The threats. The injection mark on my arm.
By the time I'm done, Liz looks pale.
This is real, she says. This is actually real. Your father is a murderer.
Yes.
And Marcus was going to steal everything from you.
Yes.
And Vanessa She stops. Wait. Where does your sister fit into all this?
I don't know yet. But she's involved somehow. Her texts are too perfect, too rehearsed. Like someone told her exactly what to say.
Liz is quiet for a moment, her journalist instincts clearly kicking in. Let me dig. I have sources, contacts. If there's a connection between Marcus and Vanessa, I'll find it.
Be careful. These people are dangerous.
I'm always careful. She gives me a small smile. Stay safe, okay? And Cass? I believe you. I've never liked Marcus. Something about him always felt... off.
Thank you, I whisper. For not thinking I'm crazy.
You're a lot of things, but crazy isn't one of them. She pauses. I'll call you back when I find something.
The screen goes dark.
I sit there, staring at my reflection in the black screen. At least I have one person on my side. One person who believes me.
Four hours later, my laptop rings again.
I answer immediately. Liz?
Her face appears, but she looks different. Angry. Disgusted.
I found something, she says. And you're going to hate it.
My stomach drops. What?
Marcus has been doing interviews all day. Every major news outlet. He's crying, Cass. Actually crying on camera, talking about how worried he is about his 'mentally unstable fiancée' who abandoned him before their wedding.
I know. I saw Dr. Cross's press conference yesterday.
It gets worse. Vanessa has been all over social media. Instagram, Twitter, everywhere. Posting photos of you two as kids, writing these long emotional captions about her 'poor sick sister' who needs help. She has thousands of people convinced you're dangerous and delusional.
My hands clench into fists. She's selling the story.
Like a pro. And your father held another press conference this morning. Full tears, begging you to come home, promising to get you the best treatment. He's playing the worried father perfectly.
But you found something else. I can hear it in her voice. Something they don't want anyone to know.
Liz's expression hardens. I have a contact at the Riverside Hotel. You know, that fancy place where all the society people stay?
My heart starts racing. And?
I asked her to check reservation records for the past two years. Specifically, any rooms booked under Marcus Grayson's name.
What did you find?
Forty-seven reservations. Always the same suite. Always overnight stays. She pauses. And every single time, there's a second guest registered to the room.
Who?
But I already know. Deep down, I already know.
Vanessa Whitmore, Liz says quietly. Your sister has been sleeping with your fiancé for the past two years. Hotel records, credit card receipts, security footage of them arriving together. They've been having an affair, Cass. The whole time you were engaged to Marcus, he was sleeping with Vanessa.
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Vanessa. Sweet, delicate Vanessa who cried at my engagement party. Who told me how happy she was for me. Who hugged me and called me her hero.
Vanessa, who was sleeping with Marcus the entire time.
There's more, Liz continues. I checked their social media. They're not connected publicly, but if you dig into the metadata on their photos, they were in the same locations on the same days multiple times. Paris last spring. The Hamptons in July. Aspen at Christmas.
They were vacationing together.
While you were planning a wedding to him. While she was playing the supportive sister. Liz's voice is hard. I'm so sorry, Cass.
I can't speak. Can't think.
My sister. My baby sister who I protected, defended, championed.
She was betraying me with my fiancé.
Send me everything you found, I finally manage to say.
Already done. Check your secure email. Liz leans closer to the camera. Cass, are you okay?
No. My voice sounds hollow. But I will be. Once I destroy them all.
That's my girl. She gives me a fierce smile. Call me if you need anything. And be careful. These people are snakes.
The call ends.
I sit there in silence, staring at nothing.
Vanessa and Marcus. Together. For two years.
Every smile was a lie. Every hug was fake. Every I love you, sis was poison.
The bedroom door opens. Damien walks in, takes one look at my face, and crosses to me immediately.
What happened?
I show him the laptop. The hotel records. The receipts. The photos.
His expression turns to ice.
They were having an affair, I say. My voice is surprisingly calm. My sister and my fiancé. For two years. While I was planning a wedding. While I was being the perfect daughter, the perfect fiancée, the perfect sister. They were laughing at me behind my back.
Cass—
She knew. The words come out broken now. Vanessa knew what Marcus and my father were planning. She knew they were going to steal everything from me. And she helped them. She was probably in on the whole thing from the beginning.
Damien kneels in front of me, his hands on my knees. I'm sorry.
Don't be sorry. Be ready. I look at him, and I know my eyes are cold. Hard. Because I want them to pay. All of them. My father, Marcus, Vanessa. I want them to lose everything the way they tried to make me lose everything.
We will, he promises.
No. I stand up, forcing him to stand too. We're going to do more than expose them. We're going to destroy them so completely they'll wish they'd just killed me when they had the chance.
Damien's expression shifts into something dangerous. Approving.
Now you sound like the woman who came to my door three nights ago.
Good. I open the email Liz sent and start downloading files. Because that woman knew something. Something important enough that they drugged her to make her forget. Something beyond the embezzlement and the affair.
I look at Damien.
My sister and my fiancé betrayed me together. But there's more I'm not remembering. Something that connects all of this. Something that scared them enough to try to kill me.
What?
I don't know yet. I turn back to the laptop. But I'm going to find out. And when I do, they're all going to regret the day they underestimated Cassandra Whitmore.
My phone buzzes.
A text from an unknown number.
I open it.
There's a photo.
It's me, three days ago, standing outside Damien's building at 2 AM. The timestamp is clear. The fear on my face is clear.
Below it, a message: We know what you remember. We know what you took. And we know you'll never be able to prove any of it. Come home, or everyone you love will pay the price.
The message doesn't delete.
It stays there. A threat. A promise.
I show Damien.
His face goes dark.
They're escalating, he says quietly.
Let them. I delete the message myself. I'm done being scared. I'm done running. I'm done being their victim.
I look at the ring on my finger.
Then at the man who gave it to me.
You said we'd destroy them together. So let's start. Now.
Damien's smile is cold and sharp.
With pleasure, Mrs. Thornwood.