Cassie’s POV
I was back in the office after my conversation with Cece. Damien still hadn’t returned from lunch. I sat at my desk and tried to continue working, but my eyes kept drifting to my watch. Time felt slower than usual.
Every few minutes, I practiced what I would say when I finally saw my father. Even calling him that in my head felt strange. It made my stomach twist. The more I thought about it, the more I started to realize how bad of an idea this might be.
Everything that could go wrong ran through my mind. But then there was that small part of me—the little girl who once loved her father—that still wanted him to apologize. To admit that he had never been a good father or a good person to me. Maybe it was better not to know how the other side felt. Or maybe I needed to hear it anyway.
I wanted to tell Kate so badly. Maybe if she saw how willing I was to at least listen, she would approve.
Suddenly, Damien came out of his private bathroom looking pale. I almost jumped. I hadn’t even realized he was already back from lunch. He walked straight to his seat without acknowledging that anyone else was in the office.
I wanted to ask if something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure I had the right. Still, the words left my mouth before I could stop them.
"Sir... are you okay?" I walked closer to his desk.
"Cassie, I don’t think I’m doing too well," he said, his voice low. "And I don’t know what happened."
"Are you sick?"
"Just a bad stomach ache. I need something for it... I think it’s from whatever I ate."
"What kind of medicine do you need?"
He shook his head. "Just drive me home. I can’t stay here any longer. Pack my things. I’ll work the rest of the hours from home."
"Sir, what about your driver? I can call him for you."
He paused, clearly annoyed. "I don’t need my driver. I need you to drive me home. Now."
I quickly started packing his bags while he struggled to stand up from his chair. Being around him when he was like this—acting like a spoiled child surrounded by nannies—made me uncomfortable.
"Excuse me..." he muttered suddenly, rushing back into the bathroom.
While he was gone, I went through his computer where he kept backup contacts. I found his driver’s number, called him, and told him to come to the parking lot immediately.
A few minutes later, Damien came out of the bathroom, sweating.
"Who were you speaking with?" he asked.
"Oh, that? My friend Kate. She was just discharged from the hospital."
"What happened? I hope she’s okay."
"Yes, sir," I said softly. "Can we go now?"
He nodded. I picked up his briefcase and walked ahead while he followed slowly behind me until we reached the parking area. His driver was already standing there, waiting, as if he somehow knew Damien would be coming down soon.
"Your driver is already here," I said, opening the back door for him.
"What are you doing here?" Damien asked the driver, his tone far from pleased.
"Your assistant said you would—"
"Sir, you should get in before it starts again," I interrupted quickly.
Damien looked at me with clear disappointment, then climbed into the back seat.
"Make sure you’re prepared for tomorrow," he said before the door closed. "We leave at 8 a.m."
"Yes, sir," I muttered as the car drove out of the garage.
—
Later that evening, I took a cab to the street where I was supposed to meet my father. My nerves were already frayed. I kept practicing what I wanted to say so I wouldn’t forget anything when the moment came.
When I arrived at the restaurant, he was already sitting at the reserved table. I walked over and took the seat across from him.
"Cassie..." he paused, looking at me carefully. "I’m so glad you showed up."
"What do you want from me?" I asked flatly. "Just go straight to the point. I don’t have time."
"First, thank you for making the time to come. I know it must have been hard for you."
"Mm," I replied, taking a small sip of the juice I had ordered.
"And I’m so sorry for everything I put you through... and your mother. I can’t imagine how hard it was watching her go through all of that because of me."
"Keep her out of your mouth," I snapped. "You don’t deserve to talk about her. She’s dead because of you. She’s off-limits."
My heart was pounding. I thought I could handle this conversation, but instead I was getting nervous. All the old memories were rushing back—the panic attacks, the fear, the nights I spent terrified of how violent he could be.
"Fine," he said quietly. "That was my biggest regret. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for what I did."
"Is that all?" My voice was starting to shake. "Is that all you want? My forgiveness?"
"Yes. And I want you to give me a chance to make things right."
I laughed bitterly. "And you think it’s that easy? You destroyed our family. You killed my mother. You traumatized me. You violated me in so many ways."
Rage filled my chest. I thought I had it all together. I thought I was ready. But I wasn’t. I still hated him. I still didn’t want anything to do with him.
"I think I should go home," I said, starting to stand up.
Before I could fully rise, he suddenly dropped to his knees on the floor beside the table.
I froze, staring at him.
"I’m really sorry," he said desperately. "I might commit suicide if you don’t forgive me. I’ve carried this guilt for a long time, and I need you to forgive me."
"You want my forgiveness that badly?"
"Yes. I’ll do anything."
"Then go to the police," I said coldly. "Tell them everything you’ve done. Tell them how you killed my mother. Serve your years. Then maybe I’ll consider forgiving you."
He stared into my eyes. For a moment, the soft, regretful mask slipped, and I saw the man I had always known—not the one pretending to have changed.
He couldn’t say a word. Slowly, he stood up from his knees, trying hard not to show how he really felt.
"Isn’t that too harsh for someone who’s trying so hard to do the right thing?" he asked.
"Too harsh?" I scoffed. "A life was snatched away from me because of you, and you think this is too harsh? I can’t stand you."
I grabbed my purse and walked away from the table.
He followed behind me, still trying to get me to stop and listen.
"There’s nothing more to hear," I said without looking back. "I’ve already heard everything you wanted to say."
I stood near the roadside, waiting for my cab. That was when he suddenly covered my mouth and nose with his hand. A car I hadn’t noticed before pulled up in front of us. He forced me inside while I struggled, but his grip was too strong.
He laughed as I fought for air.
"You really thought I would ask for your forgiveness? Hand myself over to the police? Tell them everything I’ve done?" he mimicked my voice mockingly. "You’re even worse than your mother. I’m sure it’s that pretty office boy who’s giving you the courage to talk to me like this."
Just then, his phone rang. He answered it quickly. The voice on the other end was too low for me to hear clearly.
"I have her now," he said. "We’re about to head to the location. Hope you have my complete money?"
"Yes."
He ended the call.
My own father had tricked me... just to have me kidnapped.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I struggled to breathe. I stretched my hand into my bag, desperately searching for the stun gun I had bought just in case something went wrong.
I found it just before I started to lose consciousness.
"Why haven’t you started moving?" he snapped at the driver, who was struggling to start the vehicle. "Incompetent fool."
While his attention was briefly divided, I pressed the stun gun hard against his neck. His grip on me immediately loosened.
Luckily, the car door was still open. I shoved it wider and stumbled out, gasping for air.
The road was empty and dark.
"Where the fuck do you think you’re going?" the driver’s voice shouted behind me.
I had forgotten there was still someone else in the car.
I ran.
My feet pounded against the empty road, the sound too loud in the quiet night. The streetlights were sparse, leaving long stretches of darkness between each weak glow. Behind me, steady footsteps followed—calm, unhurried, like he already knew he would catch me.
I didn’t look back. Looking back would slow me down.
My lungs burned. Every breath came out sharp. The road stretched ahead, empty and endless. No cars. No houses. Just trees lining both sides, swallowing the light.
A branch snapped behind me.
I pushed harder, heart slamming against my ribs. Sweat mixed with the cool night air on my skin. I tried calling Kate, Edward—anybody—but there was no signal.
His voice cut through the night, low and calm.
"You can’t run forever."
I veered off the road into the trees. Branches tore at my arms and face. The ground was uneven. I stumbled, caught myself, and kept moving. The open road felt too exposed.
His footsteps followed without hesitation.
My foot caught on a root. I went down hard, palms scraping against dirt and rocks. Pain shot up my wrists, but I forced myself back up, ignoring the sharp sting in my ankle.
Don’t stop.
A phone light swept through the trees, searching. I pressed myself against a thick trunk, one hand clamped over my mouth. My whole body shook.
The light passed close. Too close.
Then it stopped.
"I know you’re here."
I closed my eyes for half a second—then ran again, harder than before. I broke through the trees onto a narrower path, lungs screaming, legs barely holding me up.
Somewhere ahead, I saw the faint glow of distant lights. A main road. Traffic.
I didn’t stop until the sound of his footsteps finally faded behind me.
I had escaped.