Chapter 31: Fierce!
LYSANDRA
The fragile, charged silence of the morning shattered the moment the clicking heels announced her arrival. I watched Cassian's face transform in an instant—the subtle softness that had lingered after our interrupted breakfast conversation vanished, replaced by a mask of cold, impenetrable look.
"Mother." The word was flat, devoid of warmth. "To what do I owe this… unexpected visit?"
Victoria Vale glided into the dining room as if she were surveying her own private kingdom. Dressed in an impeccably tailored azure gown that probably cost more than my old apartment, with matching stiletto heels that clicked like a ticking bomb on the marble, she was the embodiment of regal authority. Her hair was a silver-blonde crown, her features sharp and elegant, and her eyes—Cassian's eyes, but colder, more calculating—swept over the scene. She was breathtaking and utterly terrifying. The apple truly didn't fall far from the tree.
She ignored her son completely, her laser-focused gaze landing on me. A smile stretched across her lips, a gesture that held no warmth, only the sharp edge of a scalpel.
"Cassy, darling," she purred, the nickname dripping with condescension. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your new little… companion?"
The way she paused before "companion" made my skin prickle. Her eyes raked over me, and I felt utterly exposed, as if she could see every secret, every insecurity, every moment of the previous night's passionate mistake. It was a gaze that stripped away layers, leaving me feeling naked and defenseless.
"I've asked you not to call me that," Cassian bit out, his voice tight with a frustration I recognized all too well.
Sensing the hostility thickening the air, he stood, the movement fluid and deliberate. He came to my side, his presence a solid wall between me and his mother's piercing stare. He took my hand, his grip firm and reassuring, and helped me to my feet.
"Mother," he said, his tone formal, "this is—"
"No," she interrupted, her smile never wavering, her eyes still locked on me with unnerving intensity. "I know what she is. I said, introduce me to her."
I saw a muscle in Cassian's jaw twitch. He took a slow, controlled breath. "Lysandra," he said, his voice a low, protective rumble, "this is Victoria Vale, my mother." He then turned his head slightly toward her. "And she is my guest."
"Good morning, Mrs. Vale," I managed, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be.
Her head tilted a fraction of an inch. "I never gave you permission to speak," she said, her voice dangerously soft. She finally tore her gaze from me to look at her son. "So, if she is not your girlfriend, what is she? The help seems to have its own wing in this house. It's… unconventional."
"That is none of your concern," Cassian fired back, his patience clearly fraying. "Now, for the last time, why are you here, and how did you get past my security?"
"Still so defensive," she mused, a knowing glint in her eye. "You always get this way when you're protecting something you shouldn't have."
"You have a talent for missing the point, Mother."
"On the contrary, I believe I'm the only one who sees it clearly." She gave an elegant shrug. "To answer your question, the 'how' is simple. I am your mother. Your codes have been the same since you were sixteen—your father's birthday. Predictable. As for the 'why'…" Her eyes flicked back to me. "Not while she is here."
The dismissal was a slap. "I'll just go to my room," I said, attempting to extract my hand from Cassian's.
But his grip only tightened. "You're not going anywhere." He led me firmly from the dining room into the vast, sunken living room, pulling me down to sit beside him on the large sofa. "She is staying," he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of her. Or are you suddenly afraid of a 'guest'?"
Victoria followed at a leisurely pace, her chuckle like the sound of shattering ice. "Afraid of her? You are a comedian, my boy." She settled into a high-backed armchair opposite us, a queen on her throne. "Very well. I came to discuss two things. The first is your father's birthday. It is in three days."
Cassian stared at her, genuine confusion mixing with his anger. "My father's birthday? You breached my home at this hour because you thought I'd forgotten a date that's been marked on my calendar since January?"
For the first time, a crack appeared in Victoria's polished facade. A flicker of something—frustration, worry—crossed her features before she smoothed it away. She let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years.
"Cassian, your father is not getting any younger," she said, her tone shifting, becoming uncharacteristically direct. "He needs a successor. He will not—he cannot—hand over everything he has built to an outsider. You are his son. You are the only candidate."
Cassian's agitation was palpable. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Are we truly having this conversation again? I thought I made my position abundantly clear to you and Father years ago. I am not interested in his legacy. I have my own."
"You had your wish!" she retorted, her composure snapping for a split second. "We allowed you your rebellion. You wanted to build an empire of your own, and you have. Spectacularly. But this…" She gestured vaguely, as if encompassing VGM and the entire life he'd built. "This was always a diversion. A proving ground. It is time to come home, Cassian. It is time to take your rightful place."
"And what? Abandon everything I've built? Dismantle VGM? Hand it over to some board of directors while I go play politician with Father's conglomerate?" He let out a harsh, deprecating laugh. "You understand nothing about my business, Mother. Nothing about what it means to me."
"I understand more than you think," she said, her voice dropping to a low, chilling calm. "I understand balance sheets and holding companies. I understand that your 'empire,' for all its glitter, is a satellite to the real power your father wields. The power that is your birthright."
She rose to her feet, the discussion clearly over in her mind. "I am done here. By the time of your father's birthday gala, you will have decided. You will tell him you are ready to assume your responsibilities."
"I will do no such thing," Cassian said, standing to face her, his own height and presence finally matching hers. "Father will find another successor. There are plenty of capable people who aren't your son."
She didn't bother to reply. Instead, her gaze sliced toward me one last time, colder than ever. "And one more thing," she added, her words aimed like a dagger. "Do not bring her."
She turned and walked away, her heels echoing her finality.
Cassian took a step after her, his voice ringing with defiance in the vast room. "I will bring whoever I want, Mother!"
He stood there for a long moment, his back to me, his shoulders tense. The air was thick with the aftermath of their battle. Finally, he turned, his expression weary but resolved. He stood in the doorway, his gaze meeting mine.
"Go finish your breakfast," he said, his voice softer now, but edged with a fatigue I felt in my own bones. "I'm done here."
But as I looked at him, I knew with a sinking certainty that he wasn't done. He was just beginning. And I, whether I wanted to be or not, was now a central piece in this new, fierce war for his future.