22. Cassian
CASSIAN
Weeks. It's been weeks since I last saw Amara. Since I held her, touched her, sat across from June while she explained squid anatomy with complete seriousness. Twenty-three days, to be exact. I've counted every single one.
My phone sits on the desk in front of me, screen dark. I've called seventeen times and sent texts that show as read but never answered.
She's laying low and protecting June from the media circus that hasn't died down as fast as anyone hoped.
I understand it, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.
My office door crashes open. No knock, no warning. Just my father striding in with his jaw set and shoulders rigid in that way that means bad news is coming.
"We need to talk."
I lean back in my chair. "About?"
"Leonard Hart pulled his investments."
Not surprising. I've been expecting this since Raylin showed up at my apartment weeks ago, since I told her father could do whatever he wanted and Black Lake would survive.
"So what?"
"He convinced three other major investors to do the same.
Pulled out completely, cited concerns about company direction and leadership stability.
" My father moves to the window, hands clasped behind his back.
"We're looking at a significant financial hit.
Not catastrophic, but enough that the board is questioning everything. "
The information settles over me. Three additional investors. That's more coordinated than I expected. Leonard Hart must've spent weeks laying groundwork, convincing others that Black Lake was a sinking ship worth abandoning.
"How significant?"
"Twenty percent of our investment capital gone in forty-eight hours.
Marketing budgets will need adjusting, expansion plans delayed.
And the Sapphire Studios collaboration—" He turns to face me.
"The board wants it tabled. Too much risk, too much negative press, too many questions about legitimacy. "
Something cold ripples down my spine. "You can't cancel it."
"I'm not canceling anything. I'm tabling it. Postponing until the scandal dies down and we can approach the partnership from a position of strength instead of desperation."
"Amara's work is what we need. You said it yourself?—"
"I know what I said. But the board doesn't care about artistic merit right now.
They care about stock prices and investor confidence and whether Black Lake can weather a coordinated attack from one of our oldest partners.
" He moves closer, voice dropping. "This is business, Cassian.
Personal feelings don't factor into survival. "
"This isn't about personal feelings. It's about making the right decision?—"
"The right strategic decision is protecting Black Lake's foundation while we rebuild investor trust. Once Leonard Hart and his friends finish their tantrum, once the media moves on to the next scandal, we revisit the collaboration.
But right now, moving forward looks like we're doubling down on a mistake. "
I stand abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. "So Raylin wins. She leaked photos, destroyed Amara's privacy, violated June's childhood, and her reward is getting exactly what she wanted. The collaboration cancelled, Amara pushed out, me isolated from my daughter."
"Raylin doesn't win anything. This is damage control, not surrender."
"It's both. You're letting fear dictate strategy. The board's scared, investors are nervous, so you sacrifice the one initiative that could actually revitalize this company because taking a risk feels uncomfortable."
"I'm protecting what I've spent decades building. Something you'd understand if you weren't so focused on?—"
"On what? My daughter? The woman I love? God forbid I prioritize something other than profits and board approval."
The words that tumbled out of my mouth make my father freeze. The woman I love. I hadn't meant to say it out loud, hadn't fully admitted it to myself until this moment.
My father sends me a sympathetic look. "Does Amara know?"
"Know what?"
"That you love her."
I look away. "No."
"Maybe you should tell her. Before you lose her completely."
Coming from him, the advice feels strange. Lucian Griffin doesn't traffic in emotional revelations. He deals in numbers and strategy and risks and negotiations. But right now, staring at me across this office, he looks almost concerned about me.
"I can't get near her," I say quietly. "She won't answer my calls, she won't see me. She's convinced I'm the reason everything fell apart."
"Well, that's the truth. Is it not?"
Ouch. Because yes, in a way, I am the reason. If I hadn't pursued the collaboration, if I hadn't shown up at her apartment, if I hadn't pushed back into her life before she was ready, maybe none of this would've happened. Maybe Raylin would've stayed dormant instead of detonating.
"I just wanted to know my daughter."
"I understand that. But wanting something and handling it correctly aren't the same thing.
" He sits on the edge of the desk. "You went in hard and fast, no coordination with Amara, no consideration for how it might impact her or June.
You operated from your own need instead of thinking logically about what they required. "
He's right. I know he's right. But admitting it doesn't solve anything.
"What do I do now?"
"You handle Raylin. Permanently. Whatever leverage she thinks she has, whatever connections she's using to sabotage this company, you cut them off at the source.
" His jaw sets. "And then you decide whether you're committed to being June's father or if you're just playing at it because the idea appeals to your ego. "
"That's not?—"
"Prove it. That you're willing to fight for your daughter even when it's inconvenient, even when it requires sacrifice." He stands, moves toward the door. "The collaboration is tabled. That's final. But what you do about Raylin and Amara is up to you."
He leaves. The door closes behind him with a soft click.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at nothing, brain racing through possibilities. Raylin's somewhere in Manhattan, probably celebrating her victory, convinced she's won by isolating me from Amara and tanking the collaboration.
She hasn't won. Not yet. But she will if I don't act.
I grab my phone, pull up Walt's number.
He answers on the second ring. "Tell me you're not calling with more bad news."
"I need your help with something."
"What kind of something?"
"The illegal kind. Or at least morally questionable."
A pause. Walt has always been my go-to guy for these sorts of things. Finally, he lets out an amused noise. "I'm listening."
"Raylin leaked those photos. She coordinated with gossip sites, fed them information about June, destroyed Amara's privacy because she's a vindictive bitch. I want proof. Hard evidence that connects her directly to the leak."
"And then what? You going to the police?"
"No. I'm going to expose her. I'll record a conversation where she admits what she did, make it public, destroy her credibility so thoroughly that nobody in Manhattan will touch her or her shitty work again."
Walt's quiet for a beat. "That's... risky. If she finds out you're recording her without consent?—"
"Then I'll deal with the consequences. But I'm not letting her walk away from this. Not after what she did to June."
"Cassian—"
"Just help me figure out how to do it cleanly. I need equipment, I need strategy, and I need to know how to bait her into admitting everything on record."
Another pause. Then Walt sighs. "Alright. But we do this carefully. And if it goes sideways, I'm saying I told you so."
"Sounds good."
We spend the next twenty minutes strategizing. How to approach Raylin, what to say to get her talking, where to position recording equipment. Walt knows a guy who specializes in covert surveillance—less illegal than it sounds, more gray area depending on circumstances.
By the time we hang up, I have a plan. Not a perfect one, but good enough.
I dial Raylin's number before I can second-guess myself.
She answers immediately. "Cassian."
"We need to talk."
"I'm listening."
"Not over the phone. In person. Tomorrow, one o'clock. That coffee shop near Bryant Park you like."
"…Why?"
"Because I want to apologize. You were right about Amara, about everything. I've been thinking about what you said, and I need to tell you face to face."
The lie tastes bitter. But if it gets her talking, if it gives me what I need to expose her, I'll swallow every ounce of bitterness.
"Cassian, are… are you serious?"
"Completely. Tomorrow at one. Just us, no interruptions."
Another pause. "Alright. I'll be there."
The call ends. I set the phone down, stare at it like it might explode. Tomorrow. All I need is one conversation with her, just one recording that proves what she did.
And then I make sure the whole world knows exactly who Raylin Hart really is.