Chapter 7
The room Jaxon led her to was large but plain, like a hotel suite emptied of any warmth. Pale cream walls, wide windows veiled with sheer curtains, a simple queen-sized bed pressed against one side. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't welcoming either.
"This is your space now," Jaxon said with a small smile as he opened the door for her. "You can ask for anything you need."
Aria only nodded stiffly, stepping inside without a word. Her movements were mechanical. She set her small bag down by the bed and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the loneliness seep into her bones.
Jaxon hesitated at the door, watching her with a softness that didn't match the mansion's polished floors and the heavy silence hanging over them. But when she gave no reaction, he quietly pulled the door shut behind him, leaving her alone.
⸻
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks blurred into months.
Aria barely left the room.
She barely ate.
She barely spoke.
The sunlight that filtered through the windows felt mocking, an unwanted reminder of a world that moved on without her.
She would sit for hours by the window, knees pulled to her chest, staring blankly at the city skyline beyond. Her father had promised her — "Just three months. I'll come back for you."
She clung to that like a dying flame.
Every day, she waited.
Every night, she reminded herself: Soon.
The maids came and went with trays of untouched food. Madison visited once, but even Madison's lively chatter couldn't pull Aria out of the heavy fog clouding her heart. She had smiled for Madison's sake, but the moment the door closed behind her friend, Aria crumbled into herself again.
She was surviving, not living.
⸻
It was a quiet Sunday when it happened.
Cassian was in his office downstairs, a cold black room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Jaxon was sprawled casually on the leather couch, thumbing through his phone when a soft knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Cassian said without looking up.
A guard entered, face tight. "Sir, urgent news. It's about Mr. Devereux."
Cassian finally lifted his head. A flash of something—recognition? calculation?—passed through his icy eyes. "Speak."
The guard hesitated. "He was in a car accident early this morning. Severe injuries. He's in a coma now, at St. Pierre's Hospital."
The room fell into a deathly silence.
Jaxon straightened from the couch, concern flickering across his face. He glanced at Cassian, expecting a reaction.
There was none.
Cassian leaned back in his chair, expression carved from stone. "Arrange transportation. Prepare the necessary documents. And…"
He stood up, the air around him shifting, sharpening.
"I'll tell her myself."
⸻
Aria was curled up on the bed when the knock came.
She barely reacted. Probably another maid. Probably another untouched meal.
But then the door clicked open, and footsteps crossed the room with a heavy, deliberate sound that didn't belong to a maid.
She looked up.
Cassian Cole stood there, towering, dressed in a sharp black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His face was unreadable, carved in the same ruthless calm she had seen once at the ball. Behind him, the door swung shut.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Cassian said, his voice as flat as a blade cutting through the air:
"Your father had an accident."
Aria blinked.
The words didn't register immediately.
They floated there between them, heavy, meaningless.
"He's alive," Cassian added, as if reading her blank stare. "But he's in a coma. Doctors say the chances of him waking soon are low."
Silence.
It slammed into her like a truck.
"No…" Aria whispered, her voice cracking.
Cassian didn't move.
"No, no, that's not true," she said louder, standing up, hands trembling. "He promised. He said three months. He said he'd come back."
Her legs gave out, and she sank to the floor, clutching at the edge of the bed as if it could anchor her.
Cassian stood motionless, a silent observer to the complete shattering happening before him.
Tears streamed down her face. The sobs were raw, ugly, helpless. It tore through the room, but Cassian didn't flinch.
After a long, suffocating minute, he spoke — low, almost emotionless:
"Don't blame yourself."
Aria barely heard him.
"It wasn't your fault," he repeated, voice steady like he was reading from a manual. "Nothing you could've done."
The girl crying on the floor wasn't the quiet, wary girl he had observed from a distance all these months. This was someone completely broken, vulnerable in a way he didn't know how to deal with.
For a moment, Cassian's jaw clenched — the only visible crack in his stone facade.
Without another word, he turned and left the room.
⸻
Jaxon was leaning against the hallway wall when Cassian closed the door behind him.
"You're cold, man," Jaxon said quietly. His voice wasn't accusing — it was tired, almost pleading. "She's not like us."
Cassian said nothing, staring down the empty hallway like it held all the answers he didn't have.
"You could've at least stayed a little," Jaxon added, stepping forward. "She just lost everything, bro. Give her something. A little time."
Cassian's hands were shoved deep into his pockets. His face remained emotionless, but his silence spoke louder than any apology.
"She doesn't need my pity," Cassian finally said, voice low.
Jaxon shook his head with a dry laugh. "Not pity. Just… humanity."
There was a long pause.
Finally, Cassian exhaled slowly, almost inaudible.
"Postpone all meetings for this week," he said. "No deals. No visitors. Nothing."
Jaxon gave a small nod.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
⸻
Meanwhile, inside her room, Aria was crumbling.
She clutched the side of the bed, gasping through her sobs, her world disintegrating piece by piece. She could barely breathe. It felt like the walls were closing in, the window too far away, the door too heavy to reach.
Her father.
Her only family.
The only person who ever promised her freedom.
Gone.
Or as good as.
The last three months felt like a cruel joke now — waiting, hoping — only for the door to slam shut in her face in the most brutal way possible.
She curled into herself on the floor, the light from the window slicing through the shadows but not touching her.
And somewhere deep inside, a quiet, awful thought whispered:
You're alone now.
For the first time in her life, truly, devastatingly alone.
And upstairs, two powerful men discussed her future like it was just another business decision — one trying to hold onto his own humanity, the other refusing to show any.
The walls of Cassian Cole's penthouse were thick, silent, and heavy.
And in the heart of it, Aria's muffled sobs broke the terrible quiet, unseen, unheard, except by the ghosts of promises that would never be kept.