Chapter 9
The candle flame flickered softly in front of me. I sat on the floor, knees tucked against my chest, watching the little light dance in the silence of the room. My hands trembled as I placed the white rose beside it. It wasn’t much–just a small, quiet gesture–but it was all I had. For the baby I never got to meet. The one who never had a name.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For not protecting you. For staying with him. For believing in a dream that never really existed.” My voice cracked.
Tears fell freely down my cheeks as the door creaked open. My mother stepped inside, her expression immediately softening when she saw me. She walked over, knelt beside me, and without a word, pulled me into her arms.
“I’m so sorry, Cassandra,” she said, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
“I should’ve listened,” I choked. “You told me… you told me not to stay. Not to trust him after that proposal fell through. I just-I wanted it to work. I thought I could fix it.”
“No,” she said firmly, holding me tighter. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. That man is a coward. An asshole. It’s not your fault he lied. It’s not your fault he betrayed you.”
I sobbed harder. “I loved him, Mom. I loved him so much I lost myself.”
“I know, baby. And you were brave to walk away.” She cupped my face, forcing me to meet her eyes. “But from now on, I promise–no one will ever hurt you like that again.”
I pulled in a shaky breath and wiped my tears. My voice dropped low. Cold. “I want him to regret everything.”
My mother’s gaze sharpened. “He will.”
“I want you to pull all the investors you know in his company,” I said. “Anyone who would side
with us.”
She nodded. “Already on it.”
“And I want him broke. Alone. Just like he left me.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, standing up. “When I tell them what he did to you–and that your marriage was a fraud–they’ll turn their backs faster than he can blink.”
I stood slowly, glancing once more at the flickering candle. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to my baby “But Mama’s going to make sure this pain meant something.”
My mom smiled, proud and fierce. “Now, wipe your tears. Put on your best dress. You’re coming with me to dinner tonight. It’s your comeback, darling.”
I nodded. I wasn’t going to crumble anymore. I was going to rise–and make them watch.
The next few days flew by in a storm of meetings, boardroom introductions, and whispered support from family friends who had once invested in Johansen’s empire. The scandal of our fake marriage was just beginning to stir under the surface, and my mother knew exactly how to ignite it.
In between meetings, we started building my future–my real future. She handed me documents about starting my own fashion design school, and a proposal for a clothing line we could debut
25 19
3:57 pm M MME.
in several malls.
“You’ve got the talent,” she said. “Now let the world see it.”
One afternoon, I was walking through a sleek new mall, scoping out locations for my upcoming line. I was scrolling through my sketches, distracted, when-
SPLASH.
A jolt of warmth spilled down my front. I gasped, stepping back as coffee stained my white blouse.
“Oh God–I’m so sorry,” a deep voice said.
I looked up. He was tall, sharp–suited, and clearly in a rush. He looked mortified.
“No, it’s okay,” I said, brushing at my blouse. “It’s just a shirt. I can buy another.”
“Still, I ruined your outfit. I was in such a hurry–listen, can I have your card? I’ll make it up to you.”
I hesitated for a moment, then handed him my card.
He smiled. “Thank you. Again–I’m really sorry. I have to run, but I’ll be in touch.”
He disappeared into the crowd before I could ask for his name.
When I got home, I asked the butler, “Did you catch who that guy was?”
The butler shrugged. “Not sure, ma’am. But… he seemed important.”
I dismissed it with a shrug of my own. I had bigger things to think about.
The next morning, a package was waiting for me at the door.
Inside was a box wrapped in elegant black and gold ribbon. I opened it slowly–and gasped. Inside was a stunning silk dress in midnight blue, with a note:
I’m sorry for ruining your blouse. Please accept this in its place. Also–if you’re free tomorrow evening, would you join me for dinner? I’d like to apologize properly. – S
I stared at the dress, heart unexpectedly fluttering.
I wasn’t sure what surprised me more–the gesture, or the small flutter of happiness that bloomed in my chest.
A part of me immediately recoiled. Am I ready for this? For anything like this again?
But another part of me–the one that hadn’t smiled in weeks–wanted to believe in kindness again.
