ChapterThree
"Sit down, Cassandra. We need to talk about your future."
Her father didn't even look at her when he said it. He stood near the tall window of the study, back rigid, hands clasped behind him. The late afternoon light streamed in thinly through the sheer curtains, painting pale gold streaks across the bookshelves and the aged wooden desk that had belonged to his father—and his grandfather before that.
Cassie stood in the doorway, the handle of her purse tight in her grip. Her shoulders squared instinctively, like she was stepping into a courtroom rather than her childhood home.
"My future?" she repeated, voice cool. "Funny. You make it sound like I get a vote."
At that, Arthur Kensington turned to face her. He looked as he always did—impeccable, composed, stern. The silver at his temples only made him seem more immovable. He didn't offer a smile, not even the tight-lipped ones he gave reporters during press conferences. There was no room for pleasantries here.
"You're to marry Christian Masters," he said simply, like announcing a business merger. Not a life sentence.
Cassie blinked. She stared at him for a beat, then let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Come again?"
"It's already done."
"You can't be serious."
"I am," he said flatly. "The agreement has been finalized."
Her heart dropped. "Finalized? You mean—" Her voice trailed off as understanding hit her like a truck. "You already signed it. You actually went ahead and signed my life away."
"It's a strategic decision," Arthur said, walking slowly back to his desk. "One that benefits us all. Especially you."
Cassie stepped forward, her heels clacking sharply against the marble floor. She stopped at the edge of the desk and planted both palms against the surface, leaning in. "No. It benefits you. You and your damn pride. Your legacy. You didn't even ask me."
Arthur's jaw twitched. "We've lost ground. The Kensington name is faltering. Christian Masters is offering us stability. Access. Influence."
"And in return, what? He gets a Kensington on his arm? A trophy bride?"
"He asked for you specifically."
That made her pause.
Cassie's brows furrowed. "He what?"
"He didn't want Amber. Or any other arrangement. He made it clear—he would only agree if it was you."
Her stomach twisted. "But why me?"
Arthur said nothing. He looked out the window again, avoiding the question entirely. Cassie stared at the back of his head, willing him to turn around and give her something—anything—that resembled reason. Or care.
"I'm not a pawn," she said quietly.
"You're a Kensington," he replied, still staring into the light. "Start acting like it."
The words echoed off the walls.
She pushed away from the desk, fists clenched at her sides. "No. What you mean is: 'do as you're told.' Because God forbid a Kensington woman have a mind of her own."
"You think this is about control?" he snapped, voice rising now. "This is about survival. This family is on the brink, Cassandra. We've lost investors. We've lost trust. This deal—this marriage—is the only way forward."
Her voice trembled, but it was sharp. "And you're willing to sell your daughter to get there."
Arthur's eyes darkened. "I'm willing to protect what we've built. You should be too."
"You mean what you built," she muttered.
He straightened, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve. "You have a choice. Walk away, and let it all collapse. Let Charlotte come home from Oxford with nowhere to stay. Let your mother's care lapse. Let the press tear us apart like vultures over roadkill."
Cassie's breath caught. "Don't bring them into this."
He ignored her. "Or you do what's necessary. You marry a man who can rebuild this legacy. And we survive."
Silence thickened between them.
Cassie stared at the floor, teeth clenched. She could see Charlotte's face in her mind—her little sister, smiling on some cobblestone street in the UK, excited about her next lecture, oblivious to the storm gathering back home. She could see her mother too, lying in bed upstairs, soft and faded, not quite there anymore but still Cassie's anchor.
And she knew. Deep down, she already knew.
Arthur Kensington didn't need her permission. He never had.
"I can't believe you," she said finally, voice barely above a whisper. "You really used them."
He didn't answer.
Cassie turned without another word. Her heels echoed across the study as she left, the door swinging shut behind her.
—
She didn't cry right away.
She made it to her room, shut the door softly, and stood there for a long moment, staring at the wallpaper she'd begged for when she was fifteen. The vanity still held old perfume bottles. Charlotte's drawings were pinned to the corkboard, yellowed at the edges. This room was a time capsule. A museum of a girl who didn't know yet that love could be bartered.
Cassie sat on the bed. Her fingers found a photo frame beside her. It was her and Charlotte, barefoot on the beach, the sun catching in their hair. She looked invincible in that picture. Like the world hadn't gotten its claws in her yet.
Tears slid down silently. No sobs. No gasps. Just quiet, steady grief.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She grabbed it, blinking back the blur.
Cassie: I need a night. No questions. Just you and me.
The reply came seconds later.
Maddie: Say less. Address in ten. Look hot. We're breaking rules tonight. 💄🔥
Cassie smiled faintly, wiped her cheeks, and stood.
She didn't think. Just moved. Straight to the closet. She chose a deep red tank top with thin straps, black jeans that fit like armor, and her favorite leather jacket. Her fingers moved quickly as she fixed her makeup. Crimson lipstick. Smokey eyes. Loose waves falling wild down her back.
If the world was going to bury her tomorrow, then tonight she'd burn bright.
—
Maddie rolled up with the windows down and the music loud. Cassie slid into the passenger seat and didn't say a word.
They drove through the city like two fugitives with no destination, wind catching their hair, music pounding like a heartbeat they could share. Cassie leaned her head back, staring at the blur of streetlights and neon signs. The chaos was comforting.
Eventually, Maddie glanced sideways. "You okay?"
"No."
"You want to tell me?"
"No."
"Cool."
Cassie almost laughed. That was Maddie. No pressure. No pity. Just presence.
The car climbed toward the hills, the city shrinking behind them. They parked near a rooftop bar that Maddie knew, hidden away like a secret too pretty to share. It was all hanging plants, sleek furniture, string lights, and an endless view of the skyline.
Cassie stood at the edge of the rooftop, drink in hand, the night wind tugging at her curls.
"I wonder what he's like," she murmured.
Maddie came to stand beside her. "The guy?"
"Yeah. Christian Masters. The man I'm apparently marrying."
Maddie rolled her eyes. "Probably owns three yachts and uses words like 'synergy' during sex."
Cassie snorted. "Probably thinks love is a profit-loss spreadsheet."
"Well, tonight isn't about him." Maddie raised her glass. "Tonight is about you. Unclaimed. Unapologetic."
"To the last night I belong to myself," Cassie said softly, clinking her glass against Maddie's.
"To burning the script," Maddie replied. "And writing your own."
They drank. They danced. They screamed the lyrics to songs they hadn't heard since freshman year. Cassie laughed so hard her stomach ached, and she let herself feel it all—the pain, the defiance, the fleeting taste of freedom.
At one point, she and Maddie collapsed into a booth, breathless and flushed. Cassie leaned her head on Maddie's shoulder, eyes closed.
"I'm scared," she said, not even sure where the words came from.
Maddie squeezed her hand. "Then be scared. But be loud too. Be wild. Don't let them turn you into someone you don't recognize."
Cassie opened her eyes. The city shimmered below them like a world too far away.
She knew this night would end. The sun would rise. And the chains would slip around her wrists in the form of a diamond ring and a man she didn't know.
But not yet.
Tonight, she was still hers.
"Let's get out of here," she said, sitting up.
"Where to?"
"Anywhere," Cassie whispered. "As long as it's not here."
Maddie grinned and stood, pulling Cassie up with her.
And just like that, they disappeared into the city night, two girls chasing something that might never come again.
But for now, Cassie still had her fire.