House Norville was crumbling.

Whispers had become conversations. Doubts, certainties. Their downfall wasn’t whispered behind fans anymore—it echoed down every hallway.

Brynda had lost her standing among noblewomen, her invitations growing scarce, her influence fading like the last traces of summer before the cold sets in.

She had turned volatile, lashing out at those closest to her, and now she had no one left willing to defend her.

Lorran was losing, too.

But unlike Brynda, he wasn’t fighting back. Instead, he wanted to leave it all behind.

I had expected him to give up eventually.

A man like Lorran, raised in privilege, should have known when to cut his losses.

He should have let his curiosity about me fade and turned his attention back to saving what remained of his reputation.

But when I stepped into the market that morning, I felt his presence before I even saw him.

He had been waiting.

I almost turned away, almost let him leave with nothing more than an unanswered question. But something in me hesitated, just long enough for him to see me.

He exhaled, relieved. "You’re here."

I let out a soft hum, keeping my expression unreadable. "You sound surprised."

Lorran studied me, his gaze more intent than before. "I wasn’t sure if I’d find you again."

I gestured to the crowd bustling around us. "The market isn’t a difficult place to find people."

"That’s not what I meant."

I had known what he meant, of course.

I said nothing, waiting for him to be the one to fill the silence.

He hesitated, then sighed. "It’s strange. I don’t know why I feel so drawn to you. Why I’d give up the life I know for you. But I do."

My heart should have remained steady at his words, but it didn’t.

Lorran shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

"Lately, I’ve been thinking about everything. The choices I made. What I thought I wanted." He gave a humorless laugh, his voice quieter now. "And how blind I was."

A cold weight settled in my stomach.

He didn’t know. But something inside him felt the shape of what he had lost.

I shook my head, feigning curiosity. "And what do you see now that you didn’t before?"

His throat bobbed. "That I should have chosen differently."

The words landed heavier than I expected.

He wasn’t speaking in riddles anymore. He wasn’t hinting or hesitating. He was telling me directly what I had spent months waiting to hear.

And yet, the satisfaction I had imagined didn’t come.

Lorran looked away briefly, as if ashamed. "I don’t even know why I’m saying this. It’s not as if I can change the past. It’s time to move forward."

I should have let him believe that.

I should have smiled, bid him farewell, let him drown in the regret he had finally learned to carry.

Instead, I found myself saying, "And if you could? Change the past, I mean."

He met my gaze, startled.

I regretted the question the moment it left my lips.

I had spent so long weaving this web, setting each thread perfectly in place.

But in asking, I’d offered him something dangerous—hope.

He searched my face, something shifting in his expression. "Then maybe I would have fought harder. But—"

He stepped closer to me.

“The past is the past. It’s what’s in front of me, here and now, that’s important.”

I had to leave.

I took a step back, ignoring the way my pulse thrummed unsteadily. "You should go home, Lord Norville."

"Lorran," he corrected, just as he had before.

I ignored that, too.

“So this is it. You’re turning me down.”

I nodded, the only answer he needed.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again. "Will I see you again?"

I should have said no.

Instead, I turned away before I had to answer at all.

The tension still lingered in my chest when I returned to my cottage. I told myself it was nothing, just the final stretch of my plan weighing on me.

But Evan was already waiting inside, seated at my table like he had every right to be there.

He was studying the room, his fingers trailing absent patterns over the wood. When he heard me enter, he glanced up, his expression unreadable.

"You’ve been out late," he remarked.

I sighed, shutting the door behind me. "Spare me whatever lecture you’re brewing, Evan."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You think I’m here to scold you?"

I poured myself a drink, keeping my back to him. This time, the drink was something stronger than wine. "Aren’t you?"

He leaned back in his chair, watching me closely. "No. I’m here because I know exactly what you’ve been doing."

I lifted my glass, taking a slow sip before turning to face him. "Do you?"

His smirk was faint, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You’re hesitating."

I didn’t respond.

Evan tapped his fingers against the table, his tone thoughtful.

"You spent all this time building the perfect trap for House Norville. You made sure their downfall would be slow and inevitable. And yet, when you stand on the edge of finishing it, you hesitate."

I folded my arms, meeting his gaze steadily. "And what do you think that means?"

"You tell me."

The silence between us stretched too long.

Evan let out a quiet exhale, his voice softer now. "You already have all the power you need to destroy Lorran completely. He’s vulnerable. He trusts you, even though he doesn’t know why."

I set my glass down carefully, fingers pressing into the surface of the table.

Evan leaned forward slightly. "So what’s stopping you?"

I held his gaze, refusing to let him see the conflict beneath my skin. "Nothing."

His lips curled into something between amusement and disbelief. "Liar."

I inhaled slowly, willing myself to stay composed.

Evan watched me for a long moment. “I think you misunderstand. I’m not saying any of this to push you toward making the final blow. I’m confirming what I see because…”

His voice trailed off. I watched his eyes lower to the floor.

He remained silent.

“Because?” I asked.

“Because…if you’re hesitating, it gives me hope.”

“Hope,” I repeated. “Hope for what?”

“Hope that the old Cassandra is still live and well,” he said softly. “I thought I wanted you to become one of my executioners. But watching you get there… I can’t bear it. So I’m asking you—don’t do it. Don’t destroy anyone.”

He walked past me, pausing just long enough to murmur, "Please.”

Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Evan thought I was changing into something dangerously close to hateful.

He thought I was close to the point of no return.

Maybe he was right.

Or maybe I had just realized that I was holding more than just revenge now.

And whatever came next, it wouldn’t just destroy Lorran.

It would destroy me.

And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t ready to become someone I wasn’t ready to forgive.

Or was I?