Cassian… the heir to Rhys International? Expected to marry Vivienne Langley?

The words felt unreal, like pieces of someone else's drama forced into her quiet life.

Never once had Cassian hinted at this in their exchanges. He’d never even slipped. To her, he’d been simple — a celebrity, a man juggling fame and personal space, polite and careful... but never this. Never someone burdened by a family empire and an arranged future.

She leaned back on the couch, pressing her hands to her face, willing the swirl of thoughts to settle.

Why hide it? Why pretend to be only what she saw on the surface? Why act like nothing hung over his head — like his future wasn't planned without him?

Her phone buzzed.

Cassian’s name blinked on the screen.

Again.

She let it ring until it stopped, ignoring it like the last five times. His messages had piled up over the last few days, unread.

Elara, are you okay?

Elara, let’s talk.

Did something happen? Why are you quiet all of a sudden?

And then the last one, sent just this morning:

“Elara. Please. At least tell me if you’re fine.”

She hadn’t replied. Couldn’t. The moment she heard Vivienne’s smooth voice claiming him, saw Eleanor’s cold gratitude, her certainty broke.

This wasn’t just about a celebrity crushing on a student. This was about power, families, expectations — and her, the outsider. The problem to be erased.

She stood abruptly, pacing, hands shoved deep into her hoodie pockets. The facts spun in her mind:

Cassian never mentioned Vivienne.

Never admitted to an arranged marriage.

Never said a word about being the heir to Rhys International.

And now his family had come themselves — first thanking her... then warning her off.

Her stomach twisted.

Option one: Cassian was hiding everything.

Option two: He was trapped by the same chains, keeping her distant to protect her... or himself.

But either way, he hadn’t told her.

She grabbed her bag and keys.

Space. She needed space. A walk. Time to think. Distance to stay sane.

As the door clicked shut behind her, the phone buzzed again on the table. Another missed call.

---

Meanwhile, across the city...

Cassian sat on his couch, phone in hand, eyes narrowed at the silent screen.

One week.

A full week of Elara ignoring him.

No replies. No calls. No excuses.

His jaw clenched as he scrolled up the chat — all those messages sent into the void.

Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. She wasn’t the type to play games. If she was distant... there was a reason.

And he intended to find out what it was.

Cassian stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket.

If she wouldn’t answer his messages... he’d go to her. Himself. Face to face.

No more waiting.