Page 45 of Vows of Deceit
Cassie shook her head. “No. That would be too easy.”
She turned, walked out into the cool night air and with every step, felt lighter.
Chapter Thirty Six
Soft Rebuild
Cassie hadn’t told anyone where she was going. No press. No updates. No staff. Just a single weekender bag, a journal, and the keys to the lake house she hadn’t visited since she was twenty-three.
The property sat tucked at the edge of Stillwater Pines, a secluded retreat two hours outside the city. Quiet. Modest. Perfect. On the first night, she did nothing but sleep. On the second, she cried. By the third, she wrote again. Cassie filled page after page not about Damien or the betrayal or even Grayson. She wrote about herself.
Her childhood. Her dreams. The way she once saw love as something you had to earn, prove, fight for. She let herself sit with the silence, no longer afraid of the echo. She cooked simple meals. Took long baths. Walked barefoot along the pine-lined shoreline until the ache in her chest faded to something gentle.
On the fourth day, she stood on the porch in a cashmere sweater and jeans, drinking tea as birdsong filled the air. The lake shimmered like a silver mirror. She didn’t need to post it. She didn’t need to explain it. This moment was hers.
On the fifth day, her phone buzzed.
Grayson:Just making sure you’re safe. I miss you, but I won’t chase. Come back when you’re ready.
Her heart swelled.
She didn’t reply. Not yet.
But she smiled.
Cassie drove back to the city that Sunday afternoon. No makeup. Windows down. Music playing softly. She didn’t feel reborn. She felt real. And that was enough.
When she walked back into her apartment, she saw the changes she’d made since Damien left, the soft throws, the candles, the books stacked on the kitchen island. No trace of him remained.
Just her.
Cassie King.
Whole. Healing. Herself.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Love in Slow Motion
The resort in the Seychelles was private, discreet, surrounded by water so turquoise it looked painted by a dream. A soft breeze played with the edges of sheer curtains as Cassie stepped barefoot onto the wooden deck of the overwater villa. Grayson watched her from the threshold of the bedroom, hands in his pockets, a soft smile tugging at his lips. She wore a white wrap dress, sea spray in her hair, sunlight on her skin.
“This place is surreal,” she said, turning to face him.
“So are you,” he replied.
She rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. They were here for a soft launch of a luxury wellness retreat. A quiet collaboration between Cassie’s hotel group and Grayson’s architectural firm. It was supposed to be business. Quiet. Clean. But the tension between them had grown too loud to ignore.
Later that night, after a casual dinner beneath the stars and two glasses of wine too many, Cassie sat beside him on the edge of their shared deck, feet dangling over the water.
“You’ve been patient with me,” she said softly.
“I never saw it as waiting,” he murmured.
She looked at him, eyes glinting in the moonlight. “I want this. You. But I need you to know... I’m not healed all the way.”
Grayson leaned in slowly. “Cassie, love doesn’t wait for perfect.”
And when he kissed her, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t urgent. It was a question. She answered with a touch.
