The next morning, the image was everywhere.
Arabella and Cassian on the dance floor — her head tilted slightly toward his chest, his hand resting on her waist, and their eyes locked like no one else in the room existed.
The comments were endless:
> "New power couple?"
"She's not his type… but maybe that's the point."
"Didn't his ex look just like her?"
That last one caught her attention.
Arabella stared at it for a long time.
His ex… looked like her?
---
That day at ValeCorp passed in a blur. The whispers, the stares — even Lena had gone quiet, watching her now like a chess opponent instead of a bully.
But the unease only grew.
During lunch, Arabella ducked into an empty meeting room to breathe. She opened Cassian's name in the search bar, typing slowly:
Cassian Vale, ex-fiancée.
Just one image popped up. Grainy. From two years ago. The woman was standing beside Cassian at an event, half-turned toward the camera, wearing pearls and a fitted ivory dress.
Arabella's heart skipped.
She did look like her. Same dark lashes. Same smile tilt. Same slender neck. But her eyes?
Her eyes were haunted.
---
That evening, Cassian came home late.
Arabella was curled up on the living room couch in one of her old pink robes, makeup off, curls tied up.
He stopped when he saw her.
"You're not at a gala," he said quietly, setting his briefcase down.
"No," she replied. "Not every Barbie wants to play princess every night."
A small smile tugged at his lips. But it faded fast.
"Are you okay?"
She tilted her head. "Did you love her?"
Cassian stiffened.
"You said no speeches," he said after a pause.
"This isn't a speech. It's a real question."
He walked past her, into the kitchen. Opened the fridge. Shut it again. Restless.
"She wanted things I couldn't give," he said finally. "Marriage, yes. But also… my soul. My heart. Everything I didn't think I had left."
"And me?" Arabella stood slowly, barefoot on the cool tiles. "What do I want?"
He turned to her.
"I don't know. That's what scares me."
---
They stood in silence.
She could hear the wind brushing against the balcony windows.
"I saw a photo," she said, stepping closer. "Of you two. You looked happy."
"I was... trying."
"Why did she leave?"
He looked up. His eyes were darker now.
"She didn't."
Arabella froze. "What?"
"She didn't leave. She disappeared."
---
Her blood ran cold.
Cassian walked past her again, slowly this time. Voice like frost.
"She left the night before our wedding. No note. No call. Nothing."
"I hired private investigators. For a year. There was no trace. Like she was never real."
He looked over his shoulder.
"So no. I didn't marry her."
Arabella's chest tightened. "And now you married me."
He gave a dry smile.
"Guess I like mysterious girls with sharp tongues and secrets."
She didn't smile back.
---
That night, as Cassian showered, Arabella wandered into his study. Everything neat. Cold. Lined with clean books and dark wood.
Then, something caught her eye.
A folder tucked inside a locked drawer — slightly ajar.
She knew she shouldn't.
But she opened it.
Inside were photos. Printed ones.
Cassian. The ex-fiancée.
One of them kissing.
And then — a final photo. Her, standing in front of ValeCorp. Taken from a distance.
The timestamp was three weeks before she ever met Cassian again.
---
She dropped the folder.
Her hands were shaking.
Because it meant one thing:
Cassian Vale had been watching her before the marriage contract ever existed.
---