Chapter 25 The seed of doubt
Chapter 25 The seed of doubt
SEBASTIAN
She stood for a moment, a silhouette of wariness and pride, before a quiet sigh escaped her. It was the sound of surrender to curiosity. She settled into the chair opposite me, her posture rigid, as if ready to bolt at any second.
"I hope this isn't a total waste of my time," she stated, her voice a carefully controlled monotone.
A waste? I almost laughed. This was the most productive few minutes I’d had all week. My initial plan had been elegant in its simplicity: win the race, claim the two percent of VGM shares—a near-impossible foothold in Cassian's fortress-like control of his company. It was to be the first, crucial domino to fall in a long-planned acquisition.
But fate, in the form of a concrete barrier, had other ideas. Yet, as I lay in the wreckage, a new, more potent strategy had crystallized. Physical dominance had failed. Financial warfare was a slow grind. But psychological warfare? That was a battlefield where Cassian was uniquely vulnerable, now that he had something—or someone—to lose.
Poor, brave Lysandra. She had no idea how perfectly her presence here played into my hands.
"The time will be what you make of it," I said, leaning back against my pillows, projecting an air of casual confidence. "Tell me, Lysandra… does the name Dr. Aris Thorne mean anything to you?"
The effect was instantaneous and deeply satisfying. Her body went rigid, as if she'd been tasered. The color drained from her face, leaving her ghastly pale. It was the raw, unguarded reaction of a deep, old wound being prodded.
"Are you quite alright?" I asked, my tone feigning concern. I reached for the bottle of water on my bedside table, offering it to her. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Here."
She swatted the bottle away, her composure shattering. "How do you know that name?" she demanded, her voice a sharp, low whisper. "Who told you about him?"
I gave a slow, deliberate smile, placing the water back within her reach. "The 'how' is irrelevant. The 'why' is the interesting part. But your reaction tells me all I need to know. You are… acquainted with the good doctor. Intimately, I'd wager."
She shifted, her hands clenching into fists on her knees. A raw, potent hatred burned in her eyes. "He was my father," she spat, the word "was" laced with venom.
"Was?" I chuckled softly, savoring the nuance. "How tragically final. Did you trade him in for a newer model?"
"Stop playing games!" she hissed, her anger barely contained. "He stopped being my father the day he gambled away my sister's last hope. You have my attention. Now, what do you want?"
"Composure, my dear. Your face is becoming quite… unsightly." It was true; she looked haunted. "Drink the water. Calm your nerves. Then, I will explain."
I watched the internal battle play out across her features—distrust warring with a desperate need for answers. Finally, with a frustrated grimace, she snatched the bottle, twisted the cap, and took several long, deep gulps. A faint flush of life returned to her cheeks. Good. A calm mind was more receptive to suggestion than a panicked one.
"Better," I purred. "Now, listen very carefully. I want you to think about Cassian. Truly think. Does it not strike you as… peculiar? He is a man who acquired you in a transaction, who treats people as assets, who built an empire on ruthlessness. And yet, with you, he plays the chivalrous protector. He houses you, clothes you, shields you from harm, and asks for nothing in return. Not even, as I understand it, the most basic… physical concessions of such an arrangement."
I paused, letting the implication hang in the air, studying her face for any flicker of confirmation.
"It is suspicious," she admitted, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful. "I was prepared for anything. I would have done anything to save my sister. But he has never… he's never even looked at me that way. All I've brought him is a cascade of problems. Gunmen, kidnappers, chaos. The only thing I can offer in return is my obedience."
"Precisely!" I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But you are looking at it backwards. You think you are the source of his troubles? My dear girl, you are their consequence. Cassian didn't save you from danger; he attracted it to you. Before him, what was the worst you faced? Debt? Hunger? Now, you have men with guns at your door. His enemies see you as a crack in his armor, and they will stop at nothing to exploit it. He isn't protecting you from the world; the world is dangerous for you because of him."
I saw the first seed of doubt take root, a flicker of confusion in her emerald eyes.
"He's keeping us safe," she argued, but the conviction was weaker now. "My sister's health is improving."
"He is doing the bare minimum to maintain his pride!" I countered, my tone sharpening. "He would never allow his property to be damaged. It's a point of principle, not affection. Any other billionaire at that auction would have paid your sister's medical bills. The terms of your… servitude… might have been different, certainly. But I, for one, would have offered you a genuine partnership, not this gilded captivity."
She let out a cold, brittle laugh. "You? You would have been worse. You're his rival. Why should I believe a word you say? This is all just a ploy to use me as a pawn against him."
"Smart," I acknowledged with a nod. "But ask yourself this: if you are such a disadvantage, a 'wrong piece of block' as I said, why does he cling to you so fiercely? What is his true motive?"
"I don't know," she whispered, her gaze dropping to her hands.
"You don't have to wonder. The answer is in his study. There is a safe. He is the only one with the combination. Whatever the truth is about why he bought you, why he keeps you, it's locked inside."
She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. Anger and frustration were winning again. "So, this is it? You tell me there's a secret, but you don't know what it is? This was a waste of time. I'm leaving."
"You should consider my offer," I said smoothly, not moving to stop her. "Join me. You have nothing to lose but your chains."
"No," she said, her hand on the door handle. "I think I'll pass."
"Are you sure?" I asked, my voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. "I think you might change your mind when you hear this."
She froze, her shoulders tense.
"What?" she snapped, impatient.
I let the silence stretch for a beat, ensuring I had her complete, undivided attention.
"Your father, Dr. Aris Thorne… he didn't just run away from his debts. He was on the verge of a breakthrough. I believe he may have found a permanent solution to your sister's condition. And I… I may have an idea where he is."
The air left the room. She didn't turn, but her entire body went perfectly still. The seed of doubt had been planted. Now, I had just watered it with the one thing that could make it grow uncontrollably: hope.