He knew full well that his arrival would hardly bring her any joy; in the end, all he was doing was touching himself with his own sentimentality.
Still, Cassian was a man who prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline. Tonight, acting on impulse for the sake of his heart was a rare exception.
He lowered his gaze, eyes dark and unreadable.
And yet...
He couldn’t help but recall the man who’d recently appeared at Ruby’s side.
To say he wasn’t jealous would be a lie.
They were clearly strangers, and yet that man could follow behind her without protest. She had even agreed to let him stay close. But Cassian—her husband of years—was met only with resistance and distaste.
His eyes clouded over.
“Mr. Veyne, it’s ready.”
Cassian took the key card that was handed to him, his melancholy already masked behind a chill composure—leaving only coldness in the space where his sorrow had lingered.
—
That evening, after spending some time with Frieda, Gennifer hurried off to find Hanley.
“Dad! Frieda says she’s sending the wedding dress from the penthouse away!”
She burst through the door, breathless and anxious.
The housekeeper, who was mopping the floor, froze, tightening her grip on the handle before quickly lowering her head.
“What did you say?!”
Hanley hadn’t even processed the words before Violet shot to her feet in alarm, so abruptly she nearly wrenched her back and stumbled.
Hanley, however, seemed unconcerned. He didn’t even reach out to steady her—instead, he strode forward and seized Gennifer’s wrist. “She’s sending the wedding dress away? To whom? Why?”
Seeing the worry etched on both faces, Gennifer hurried to explain.
As she spoke, Hanley’s anxious expression gradually faded. He slowly settled back into his chair.
Violet, meanwhile, was still agitated, glancing at Hanley as if searching his face for answers.
“Hanley, what is she really up to?”
“Gennifer, you did well.”
Hanley narrowed his eyes, voice low and measured.
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