Page 38 of Vows of Deceit
The wind sweeping off the cliffs carried the scent of sea salt and sun-warmed stone as Cassie stood on the rooftop terrace of her family’s flagship hotel in Monte Blume. This wasn’t just another investment. It was the beginning of something transformative. The sun dipped low, casting golden fire across the distant horizon, a symbolic close to the woman she used to be. She turned as Grayson Collin approached, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, carrying two glasses of sparkling water.
“No scotch today?” she teased.
“Only the strong drink water while launching an empire,” he said with a smile, handing her one.
Cassie looked over the railing. Below, a crew bustled in the grand ballroom, installing custom crystal chandeliers, silk draping, and signature fragrances she’d handpicked for the reopening.
Cassie King Hotels wasn’t just expanding. It was being reborn. With her name, her vision. And her rules.
“I still can’t believe we pulled it off,” she said quietly.
“You didn’t pull it off,” Grayson corrected. “You burned the old world down and built a throne from the ashes.”
She smiled. “Poetic much?”
He leaned on the railing beside her, gazing down at the site.
“No,” he said. “Just accurate.”
Cassie had unveiled the concept two weeks after filing for divorce. Her press release teased an exclusive luxury experience that blurred the line between indulgence and innovation. Each property would house its own gallery, rooftop garden, and rotating chef-in-residence. It was bold, visionary, and completely hers.
Grayson had come on as consultant, strategist, but he became more. A collaborator. A confidant. A steady presence when her life was still trembling. Their closeness deepened with late nights at the design table, working over Italian blueprints and vintage tile swatches, music humming in the background. Sometimes he brought her tea without asking. Sometimes she fell asleep at the table, and he carried her to the couch.
But he never pushed and that was the thing that made her heart ache, the gentleness in him. One evening, he found her in the quiet hotel chapel, candles lit.
“I thought I might find you here,” he said softly.
“I wasn’t praying,” she replied.
“I didn’t say you were.”
They sat together in silence for a while. Then she whispered, “I’m terrified it’ll all come crashing down.”
Grayson looked at her. “Empires built from pain have the strongest foundations. You’ve got this, Cass.”
Meanwhile, Kelly had been cut off by both families. Vivienne, faced with mounting public shame and corporate pressure publicly denounced her youngest daughter’s actions in a single press statement: “While we love all our children,we cannot condone choices that hurt others and jeopardize our legacy.”
Charles, ever cold, simply removed her from the trust. Friends ghosted her. Brands dropped her. Even her beloved fashion sponsorships dried up overnight. Kelly had fled to Paris, rumors swirling of rehab and a very public breakdown in a Saint Laurent showroom.
No one reached out.
No one followed.
Cassie didn’t smile at her sister’s downfall but she didn’t cry either. Some things had to break so others could rise.
On the night of the launch party, Monte Blume came alive. Golden champagne, glittering gowns, and a thousand flashbulbs welcomed the return of Cassie King not as a wife, not as a woman scorned, but as the new face of modern luxury.
She wore white not as a bride, but as a phoenix. Grayson stood beside her in black, hand resting lightly on her back as she stepped up to the podium. Her voice was clear.
“I lost a lot this year. But I found something more valuable than anything I’d built before—myself. This hotel isn’t just a project. It’s a promise. That no matter what burns around you, you can rebuild. Stronger. Brighter. Unapologetically your own.”
Thunderous applause.
And in that moment, under the lights, Cassie felt not like a woman piecing her life back together.
But like the woman she was always meant to be.
Chapter Thirty
