Chapter 5 True Secrets Begin to Leak

# Chapter 5: True Secrets Begin to Leak

Morning brought a strange calm after the violence of the previous day. Cassian's wound looked better than I expected, though he moved with careful precision as we prepared to return to the city. Neither of us mentioned my promise of truth—it hung between us, an invisible thread pulling tighter with each passing hour.

The drive back was mostly silent. I watched the wilderness give way to suburbs, then to the familiar skyline, and felt my resolve hardening. I had come too far to abandon my mission now, regardless of my confused feelings for Cassian.

When we arrived at the Thorne mansion instead of my brownstone, I shot Cassian a questioning look.

"You're staying here from now on," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The brownstone isn't secure enough."

"And this is?" I gestured to the imposing structure. "Your mother hates me, Noah suspects me, and someone just tried to kill us both."

Cassian's hand found mine across the center console. "Here, I can protect you."

What he meant, I realized, was that here, he could watch me.

Inside, the mansion was unusually quiet. Cassian led me to what would be my new room—a suite adjacent to his own, connected by a shared sitting room. As he showed me around, his phone buzzed repeatedly. Business matters that had been neglected during our absence.

"I have to deal with this," he said reluctantly. "Will you be alright?"

I nodded, affecting a calm I didn't feel. "I'll unpack, maybe rest a bit."

He studied me for a long moment before leaning in to brush his lips against my forehead. "We'll talk later," he murmured, the reminder of my promised confession implicit in his tone.

Once alone, I didn't unpack or rest. Instead, I began a careful exploration of my new quarters, searching for cameras or microphones. I found three surveillance devices in the bedroom alone and disabled them with practiced ease. If Cassian was going to hear my truth, it wouldn't be through electronic eavesdropping.

A soft knock at my door startled me. I opened it to find Helena Thorne, elegant as always in a tailored navy suit that accentuated her still-slender figure.

"May I come in?" she asked, her voice cool but not hostile.

I stepped aside, wary but curious. Helena rarely sought me out directly.

She entered, her gaze sweeping the room before settling on me. "You've had an eventful few days, I hear."

"You could say that."

Helena moved to the window, looking out over the manicured grounds. "My son has always been... intense. Even as a child, he felt things more deeply than most."

I remained silent, unsure where this was heading.

"When Elise disappeared," Helena continued, "something in Cassian broke. He was sixteen, already showing the brilliance that would later define his career. But after that day, his brilliance took on an edge. A darkness."

She turned to face me, her eyes—so like Cassian's—searching mine. "He blamed himself, you see. He was supposed to be watching her that day."

This was new information, not part of my research. "I didn't know that."

"No, you wouldn't." Helena's smile was sharp. "Just as you wouldn't know that Elise had a strawberry birthmark on her left shoulder. Or that she was allergic to penicillin. Or that she called Cassian 'Cass' because she couldn't pronounce his full name as a toddler."

My heart raced. I had prepared for so many contingencies, but not for this direct confrontation with details I couldn't possibly know.

"Memory is fragile," I said carefully. "Trauma—"

"Spare me." Helena's voice cut like glass. "I know who you are. Or rather, I know who you're not. You're not my daughter."

The moment stretched between us, taut with unspoken accusations. Then, surprisingly, Helena sighed.

"What I don't know is why Cassian is playing along."

I blinked, caught off-guard. "What?"

"My son is many things, but a fool isn't one of them. He knew from the beginning you weren't Elise. Yet here you are, installed in our home, sharing his bed if rumors are to be believed."

Heat rushed to my face. "It's not—"

"I don't care about your relationship's nature." Helena waved a dismissive hand. "What concerns me is why he's allowing this charade to continue. What hold do you have over him?"

Before I could formulate a response, the door opened and Noah entered without knocking. He froze momentarily at the sight of his mother, then recovered with a lazy smile.

"Family meeting without me? I'm hurt."

Helena's expression softened fractionally. "I was just having a chat with our... guest."

Noah's eyes flicked between us, assessing. "Looks intense. Everything okay?"

"Perfectly fine," Helena replied smoothly. "I was just leaving." At the door, she paused, looking back at me. "Remember what I said. My son sees more than you think."

After she left, Noah flopped onto my bed with casual familiarity. "So, how was your romantic getaway with big brother? The gossip sites are calling it a kidnapping, but security footage of you willingly getting into his car debunked that pretty quick."

I sank into a chair across from him. "It wasn't a getaway. Someone tried to kill us."

Noah's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, seriously? Mom just said you two disappeared for a few days."

"Someone attacked us at Cassian's cabin." I hesitated, then decided to push. "He seemed to think they were after me, not him."

"Were they?" Noah's usual playful demeanor had vanished, replaced by sharp focus.

"I don't know." The admission felt like defeat. "I don't know who would want me dead."

Noah studied me for a long moment. "Maybe it's not about wanting you dead. Maybe it's about wanting you gone."

"What's the difference?"

"Intent." He sat up, suddenly serious. "Dead is permanent. Gone just means away from Cassian."

A chill ran through me. "You think someone's trying to separate us? Why?"

Noah's laugh held no humor. "Have you seen my brother lately? He's obsessed with you. Business is suffering, partnerships are strained, and he doesn't care. All he cares about is you."

"That's not true," I protested, though doubt gnawed at me.

"No?" Noah pulled out his phone, scrolling through what appeared to be financial reports. "Thorne Industries stock has dropped fifteen percent since your miraculous appearance. Cassian's canceled three major deals because they'd require travel away from you. He's alienated half the board by focusing on your security instead of company matters."

He handed me the phone. The screen showed security expenses—millions spent on surveillance equipment, personnel, and what appeared to be extensive background checks on everyone in my orbit.

"This isn't protection," Noah said quietly. "It's obsession."

I handed the phone back, my mind racing. "Why are you showing me this?"

Noah's expression was unreadable. "Because unlike my mother, I'm not convinced you're the villain in this story. I think you might be as trapped as Cassian is—just in a different way."

Before I could respond, the door opened again. Cassian stood there, his face darkening as he took in the scene—Noah lounging on my bed, me sitting nearby.

"Out," he ordered his brother, his voice deceptively soft.

Noah rose unhurriedly. "We were just catching up. Sister-brother bonding and all that."

"She's not your sister." The words hung in the air, charged with meaning.

Noah's eyebrows rose. "No? Then what is she, Cassian?"

Instead of answering, Cassian moved aside, his gesture making it clear Noah's presence was no longer welcome. As Noah passed him, he murmured something I couldn't hear. Cassian's expression hardened further.

Once we were alone, Cassian closed the door and locked it. The click of the mechanism sounded unnaturally loud in the tense silence.

"What did my mother want?" he asked, his voice controlled.

"To tell me she knows I'm not Elise."

I expected anger, perhaps panic. Instead, Cassian nodded as if this was expected news. "And Noah?"

"He showed me financial reports. Security expenses. He seems to think you're... obsessed."

Cassian moved closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "Is that what you think?"

"I think I don't understand any of this anymore." I gestured helplessly. "Why are you protecting me when you know I'm lying? Why risk your company, your reputation?"

"You know why." His voice dropped to a near whisper.

"I need to hear you say it."

In one fluid motion, Cassian closed the distance between us, his hands framing my face with a gentleness that belied the intensity in his eyes.

"Because from the moment you walked into my study claiming to be my sister, I knew two things," he said, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "I knew you were lying, and I knew I would let you keep lying as long as it meant keeping you close."

"That's insane," I whispered.

"Is it?" His eyes searched mine. "Or is it the most honest I've ever been?"

I should have pulled away. Instead, I found myself leaning into his touch, my body betraying my resolve. "Cassian, there are things you don't know about me. About why I came here."

"Then tell me." His hands slid to my shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. "No more games, Maeve. Just truth."

The moment stretched between us, electric with possibility. I opened my mouth, ready to confess everything—my mother's fate, my years of planning, the revenge I'd sworn.

But before I could speak, Cassian's phone buzzed with an urgent tone. His expression darkened as he read the message.

"What is it?" I asked, half relieved, half disappointed at the interruption.

"Security breach at the main gate." He moved toward the door, all business now. "Stay here. Lock the door behind me."

As he turned to leave, I caught his arm. "Cassian, wait. There's something—"

He silenced me with a kiss—hard, possessive, and over too quickly. "Later," he promised. "When I get back, we'll finish this."

After he left, I locked the door as instructed, then moved to the window. Security personnel were rushing toward the main gate, their movements purposeful and alert. Whatever was happening, it wasn't a drill.

My phone chimed with a text from an unknown number. With shaking hands, I opened it.

A single image appeared—a photograph of my mother, taken years ago. She stood in this very house, wearing a housekeeper's uniform, her face younger than in my memories but unmistakable. Beside her stood a much younger Helena Thorne, her hand raised as if caught mid-slap.

Below the image was a message: "He knows everything. He's always known. Ask him about Anna Miller."

Anna Miller—my mother's name.

The phone slipped from my suddenly numb fingers. All this time, had Cassian known not just that I wasn't his sister, but exactly who I was? Had he known about my mother, about her fate at his family's hands?

And if he had—what did that make his feelings for me? A game? Manipulation? Or something darker, more twisted than I'd imagined?

As security alarms began blaring throughout the mansion, I made my decision. It was time to confront Cassian with the complete truth—not just about who I was, but about what his family had done.

What I didn't realize was that Helena Thorne had already set events in motion that would tear apart any chance of reconciliation. By the time Cassian returned to my room, everything would have changed.