Cassie’s POV
What is Malcolm doing here?
I turned and started walking toward the office.
"Cass.. please, wait. I need to talk to you." He said, nearly catching up to me.
"Leave me alone." I muttered. "I don’t want to see you or hear anything you have to say."
I ducked into the elevator, hoping the doors would close before he reached it. They didn’t. He slipped in right behind me.
"What exactly do you want from me?" I asked. "Haven’t you done enough already? The least you can do is leave me alone."
"I know," he said quietly. "I need to move on. And the only way I know how is to ask for your forgiveness. Cassie, I wronged you. I’m genuinely sorry."
I stared at him, almost disbelieving I’d ever been in love with this man. It had only been a few month.. how had it already started to feel like a different life?
"Malcolm, I don’t know if I can forgive you, even if I wanted to. But I don’t hold anything against you anymore, either."
Something shifted in his expression. "I’m glad to hear that. But I’d still love the chance to make things right."
"Malcolm, you need to leave. And don’t ever show up at my workplace uninvited again."
When the elevator doors opened, I stepped out, leaving him behind with whatever he wanted to say next.
"Cass," he called out gently. "One more thing."
I paused, bracing myself.
"I’m getting married next month. I’d really love for you to be there."
Is he serious right now? Why would anyone invite their ex to their own wedding? Was this seriously why he’d flown all the way out here?
"Oh." I forced myself to breathe evenly. "Who’s the lucky woman?"
He hesitated just long enough for me to piece it together myself.
"It’s her, isn’t it? Nancy. The one you cheated on me with."
"Yes." He kept going. "But it’s because — we found out she’s pregnant. We decided to get married."
"You know how much I’ve always wanted to be a father."
While we were together, he’d brought up having kids constantly. Thank god I’d never given in to that particular pressure.
"Honestly, I don’t care who you’re with. I’m happy for myself, and I think it’s best you just leave me alone now."
I walked off, leaving him standing there. He’d officially ruined my whole mood. I wasn’t happy for either of them — but then again, they probably deserved each other.
By the time I got back, Damien had already left, likely for lunch. I headed to the cafeteria to grab something for myself.
I picked up a sandwich, some fruit, and water, with no intention of eating down there. I didn’t want to deal with anyone, didn’t want to be a spectacle in public.
I was already the center of enough gossip after the rooftop incident and Damien’s dramatic rescue. People had convinced themselves something was going on between us, and I’d never once bothered correcting it.
I’d overheard some of the girls claiming I’d forced him to break up with his girlfriend, threatening to leave if he didn’t.
Who even starts rumors like this?
Someone else swore I’d slipped something into his coffee every morning — some kind of love potion — and that the only reason he’d moved me into his office was so he could sleep with me whenever he wanted.
I hurried back to my desk, desperate to get away from the whispering. I managed a few bites of my sandwich, still replaying everything Malcolm had said, and lost whatever appetite I had left.
I brushed the crumbs off my skirt and headed to his private bathroom to wash my hands.
I screamed the second I stepped inside.
He was standing there, mid-change, completely bare from the waist down. Every rational instinct told me to shut the door and bolt — instead, I just stood there, frozen, staring.
"What the hell are you still doing in here?" His voice came out sharp, furious.
"I’m so sorry—" I bolted out immediately, collapsing into my chair, shaking. I can’t stay here. I can’t face him after that. I need to disappear.
The bathroom door creaked open a minute later, and he stepped out, fully dressed this time. I needed to say something — apologize, explain I had no idea he was even in there.
I approached as he sat down. "I’m so sorry, sir. I genuinely didn’t know you were in there."
"What exactly were you planning to do in my bathroom?" He made the ownership very clear.
"I just wanted to wash my hands after eating. That’s all it was."
He studied me with an expression I couldn’t quite place — something calculating, almost amused.
"You’re definitely going to face consequences for this." He said it flatly, like he already knew exactly what he wanted.
My mind went completely blank. Part of me actually hoped he’d suspend me for a week. A whole week away from him, away from the gossip — honestly, that sounded like a dream right now.
"I need that bathroom spotless. Sparkling. Maybe next time you’ll actually knock before walking in uninvited."
"Sir, we have cleaners for that sort of thing."
"Are you questioning me? Go clean it. Now."
I went in quietly. It was already immaculate — I had no idea what exactly he expected me to do in there.
I grabbed a pair of gloves, about to start, when it hit me — I was still in my work clothes, and there was no version of scrubbing a bathroom in this outfit that wouldn’t ruin it.
"Sir, would you mind if I changed first? I really can’t clean in this."
"No. Wear it." He said, almost enjoying himself. "That way you’ll remember to knock, next time."
So I scrubbed an already spotless bathroom, fury building with every pass of the cloth. He’d officially crossed a line, and I was done letting it slide.
My mind started working through options. Flood his office overnight? Slip something into his coffee?
Flooding felt counterproductive — I’d probably end up cleaning that mess too. But the coffee idea had potential.
Sleeping pills. That could work. Knock him out for the day, buy myself some peace. I’d read enough to know nobody actually dies from a reasonable dose of over-the-counter sleep aids.
Honestly, he should be thanking me. Clearly the man needed more sleep — it might even improve his personality.
"Planning on living in there?" His voice carried through the door.
"You said spotless, sir. Just making sure I meet the standard."
"Hurry up. It wasn’t even that dirty to begin with."
He knows it wasn’t dirty. He made me clean it anyway, purely to prove a point. That settled it completely — the sleeping pills were absolutely, one hundred percent happening tomorrow, no further debate necessary.
Thirty minutes later I emerged, damp with sweat and spilled water, thoroughly over the whole ordeal.
"Sir, I need to head home. I’m not comfortable in this outfit anymore."
He looked me over, head to toe, clearly unimpressed by my complaint, and shook his head. "You look fine to me."
"It’s not about how I look. It’s how I feel, and I don’t feel fine."
"Nothing I can do about that." He checked his watch. "Two hours left on the clock. Finish your work."
The longest two hours of my entire week, sitting there half-soaked, silently plotting his downfall.
By the time the day finally ended, I flagged a cab and had it take me straight to the pharmacy.
I asked the attendant for something to help with sleep. She gave me an odd look at first.
"I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. Really need something," I said, keeping my tone casual. She handed it over, I paid, and I headed home.
Kate was already in my room waiting when I got back. "There you are."
"Waiting on you, remember? We have things to catch up on."
I filled her in on everything — the Dylan situation, the whole bathroom incident, Damien forcing me to scrub an already clean room out of what felt like pure spite.
"That’s insane." She shook her head. "The man is genuinely unpredictable."
"Well, I’m about to be unpredictable too. I’m drugging his coffee tomorrow."
"What? Cassie." Her voice jumped an octave.
"Nothing dangerous. Just a sleeping pill."
"So your plan is to knock him out for an entire workday?"
"Exactly. He deserves it, after making me clean his bathroom for nothing."
"Cass. Please be careful with this."
"I will, I will." I headed off to shower, and by the time I came back out, Kate had already passed out on my bed.
I was reaching to turn off the lamp when my hand brushed against the pharmacy bag — and it felt wrong. Too light.
I opened it. Empty.
I spun around to look at Kate properly, and there it was — the pill packet, clutched loosely in her hand, half the blister pack already empty.
She’d taken the pills meant for Damien, every last one of them.