Cassie’s POV
I tried flagging down a taxi, but none of them seemed willing to stop. I called Edward next, hoping he could come pick me up, but there was no service in the area. Frustration and leftover fear mixed in my chest as I kept running after every taxi that passed, waving my arms until one of them finally slowed down.
I checked the driver’s face carefully before getting in—just to make sure I wasn’t climbing back into another trap. Once inside, I still felt nervous, but a small wave of relief washed over me at the same time.
The moment the taxi dropped me at the gate of my estate, I took a deep breath. I was safe. At least for now.
Kate was already home when I walked in. She looked me up and down, her expression shifting from concern to shock.
"You look like you’ve been hit by a truck," she said. "Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you, hoping nothing bad had happened."
"I’m sorry," I said, my voice flat. "I went to see my dad... to hear what he had to say. But it seemed like he had other plans for me."
Kate’s face hardened. "You never listen to me. I warned you about going to see him. Maybe now you’ve finally learned your lesson."
I sank onto the couch, the weight of everything that had happened settling heavily on me.
"He tried to kidnap me, Kate."
She stared at me. "Are you surprised? People like him don’t change. His heart is hardened."
"So why would he lie about wanting to rekindle things with me if he didn’t mean it?"
"He clearly wants something from you," she said. "And it’s definitely not forgiveness."
"It seemed like the sole reason he wanted to see me was to kidnap me... but why?"
"Maybe he wanted money."
I shook my head. "No. This isn’t about money. I think someone hired my father to kidnap me. It sounds crazy, but someone who wants to stay anonymous is behind this."
Kate’s voice dropped. "Cass... if that’s true, then this is serious. We need to report him. Your life could be at stake."
"Who do you think might be behind it?" I muttered.
"The only person who ever tried to hurt you was Alex, but he’s behind bars. Or maybe your dad just wanted to do it for his own selfish reasons."
"That’s even more reason why we need to have him questioned. We need to know what’s really going on."
Kate’s expression softened. "But are you okay?"
"No," I admitted. "I’m traumatized. Kate, I almost lost consciousness. I could have been dead or tied up somewhere by now."
"But you’re not," she said gently. "Just take a hot shower and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll figure out what the hell happened tonight."
"Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital for a check-up?"
"No, I’m actually okay," I muttered. "I just need to rest. I’ve got a big day ahead of me tomorrow."
"The trip?" Kate frowned. "I think you shouldn’t go. You need to rest after everything that happened today."
"I’m fine. I’ll rest there. Honestly, I think I need the trip to take my mind off everything."
She sighed. "If you insist... just update me about everything that’s going on."
"I will. For now, I need to get some rest."
"Alright. Have a good night," she said softly.
I went into the bathroom and stood under the hot water for a long time. The warmth felt good against my skin, slowly washing away the dirt, the fear, and the exhaustion of the night. For a moment, it felt like everything that had happened was being pulled down the drain with the water.
My bags were already packed for the trip. Maybe going away wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Maybe it would give me the space I needed to think clearly about how to handle everything.
I changed into my sleepwear and finally climbed into bed.
—
My phone started buzzing loudly.
I almost jumped out of bed. Who the hell was calling at this hour?
I checked the screen. Damien.
Why on earth would my boss be calling me this early?
A second later, a message came through:
Just wanted to know if you’re awake already. Remember we’re leaving by eight.
Eight?
The trip.
I had completely forgotten.
I scrambled out of bed and rushed into the bathroom. In record time, I was dressed, packed, and ready to head to the airport. I quickly texted Edward to let him know I was leaving for the trip, but I got no response. He was probably already busy.
Damien had sent his driver to pick me up from the estate. When I arrived at the airport, Damien still wasn’t there. I turned to the driver.
"Isn’t he supposed to be here by now?"
"He should be," the driver replied. "He probably stopped to get something on the way."
I scoffed under my breath. "So he expects me to wait for him while he—"
"He’s here," the driver interrupted.
I turned around.
Damien walked toward me wearing a fitted cashmere t-shirt tucked into tailored charcoal-grey trousers, paired with black designer sneakers, a luxury silver wristwatch, and dark sunglasses. A black leather designer duffel bag hung effortlessly from his shoulder. He looked expensive. Effortlessly gorgeous.
I felt a weird sensation in my stomach.
"How was your ride here?" he asked.
"It was fine," I replied, my voice quieter than I intended. I had almost been complaining about him being late just seconds ago.
His phone rang. He answered it immediately, spoke for a few minutes, then ended the call and looked at his driver.
"You can take the vehicle back home." Then he turned to me. "Come. The jet is ready."
We walked toward his private jet. His family name was written across the side. The interior was pure luxury—leather seats, soft lighting, and an atmosphere that screamed money.
I took the seat by the window while he sat across from me, facing me directly. I tried not to make eye contact, keeping my gaze fixed on the window as the plane took off.
The last time I flew, I had locked myself in the bathroom, trying to distract myself from thoughts of my ex. Now I was on a private jet with my boss.
"Good morning, ma’am. What would you like for breakfast?" a flight attendant asked with a polite smile, approaching my seat.
I glanced at the menu. "I’ll have the scrambled eggs with buttered toast, please. And a croissant on the side."
"Certainly, ma’am. Would you care for something to drink?"
"Orange juice, please."
"Very well. I’ll have that prepared for you. Anything else?"
"No, thank you."
She turned to Damien. "Would you care for anything to eat or drink, sir?"
"I’ll have what she’s having."
"Certainly. I’ll bring that shortly."
She took the menus and walked away, leaving us in an awkward silence.
"Looks like you love the view," Damien said, eyes still on his phone.
"What do you mean?"
"Since you sat down, your eyes haven’t left the window."
I was mostly trying to avoid looking at him, but I couldn’t exactly say that.
"It’s a nice view," I replied. It wasn’t entirely a lie.
"Or are you just trying to avoid having a conversation with me?"
I let out an awkward laugh. "No... why would I?"
"Okay. If you say so."
A few minutes later, the flight attendant returned with our breakfast. Not long after we finished eating, the plane began its descent into New York.
A black Mercedes with tinted windows was already waiting for us when we landed.
"Hotel?" the driver asked.
"Yes," Damien confirmed as we both slid into the back seat.
The hotel was close to the conference venue—modern, clean, and quietly elegant. The lobby was understated but expensive, with soft lighting and polished marble floors.
We walked up to the front desk.
"We’d like two rooms," Damien said.
The receptionist typed quickly, then looked up. "I’m sorry, sir. We only have one luxurious suite left on the sixth floor. No separate rooms available."
"That’s fine," Damien said without hesitation.
"Fine?" I mumbled. "I’d prefer to have my own privacy."
He glanced at me. "Don’t flatter yourself. You’ll still have your own room. It’s not like we’re sharing a bed."
"Why would we share a bed?" I asked quietly.
The receptionist ignored the exchange. "Are you okay with the suite, sir?"
"Yes. We’ll take it."
He handed over his credit card. Once everything was settled, we headed upstairs.
The moment I stepped into the suite, I momentarily forgot why I was even there.
The place was enormous.
A spacious living room stretched out in front of me, furnished with cream-colored sofas, a sleek glass coffee table, and a massive television mounted against a marble-accented wall. Warm lighting made everything look expensive and almost unreal. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city, glittering lights stretching as far as I could see.
This was beautiful.
I wheeled my suitcase inside, my heels clicking against the polished floor. Beyond the living area was a separate bedroom with a king-sized bed covered in immaculate white sheets and an assortment of decorative pillows. A side door led into a luxurious bathroom complete with marble walls, a large bathtub, and gold-accented fixtures.
I had seen hotels like this in pictures, but standing inside one felt completely different.
And this was where I would be staying?
I turned to look at Damien. He had already unbuttoned the top of his shirt and was scrolling through his phone as if suites like this were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Of course they were.
For a man like him, this was probably nothing special.
I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that a single night in this place could probably cover several months of my rent when my phone buzzed.
It was a text from Kate.
The police tried searching for your father, but he was nowhere to be found. I think he’s left town.
My stomach dropped.