Chapter 6 Identity Torn Apart

# Chapter 6: Identity Torn Apart

The security breach turned out to be a false alarm—or more accurately, a distraction. By the time Cassian returned to my room, I had already packed a small bag. The photograph of my mother burned in my pocket, a tangible reminder of why I had come here in the first place.

"What are you doing?" Cassian asked from the doorway, his eyes taking in the bag on my bed.

"I'm leaving." My voice sounded steadier than I felt. "It's over, Cassian."

He closed the door behind him, his movements deliberate. "Nothing's over unless I say it is."

"That's not how this works." I pulled the photograph from my pocket, holding it out to him. "Anna Miller. My mother. Does that name mean anything to you?"

The change in his expression was subtle—a slight tightening around his eyes, a barely perceptible tension in his shoulders. But it was enough.

"You knew," I whispered. "You've known all along who I am. Who my mother was."

Cassian didn't deny it. Instead, he moved further into the room, his gaze never leaving mine. "Your mother worked for my family for eight years. She was accused of stealing my grandmother's diamonds. She went to prison, and later committed suicide."

Hearing him state these facts so dispassionately made something snap inside me. "She was framed! Your family destroyed her!"

"Yes." The simple admission stopped me cold. "She was framed. Not by my family—by my father."

I stared at him, struggling to process this. "What?"

"My father wanted her. She refused him. So he planted the diamonds in her quarters and called the police." Cassian's voice was flat, emotionless. "By the time I discovered the truth, she was already dead."

The room seemed to spin around me. "How long have you known about me? That I'm not Elise?"

"From the beginning." He took a step closer. "The real Elise is living in Switzerland under a different name. She left by choice, to escape our father's control. We've stayed in contact over the years."

Each revelation felt like a physical blow. "So everything—all of this—has been what? A game? You've been manipulating me while I thought I was manipulating you?"

"No." Cassian's expression softened fractionally. "I let you into my life because I wanted to understand what you were after. I thought perhaps blackmail, corporate espionage. I never expected—" He broke off, running a hand through his hair in a rare display of agitation.

"Never expected what?"

"To feel this way about you," he finished, his voice low. "To want you to stay even after I knew the truth."

I laughed bitterly. "And what truth is that? That I came here to destroy you? To make you pay for what happened to my mother?"

"Yes." His gaze was unwavering. "I've been waiting for you, Maeve. For years. Wondering when you'd come to collect the debt my family owes you."

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be shocked, angry, defensive—not standing there calmly admitting his family's guilt.

"I don't understand," I said, my voice breaking. "If you knew who I was, why didn't you just have me removed? Why play along?"

"Because I owed you the chance for justice." He moved closer still, until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "And because from the moment I saw you, nothing else mattered."

I backed away, bumping into the edge of the bed. "Stop. This isn't—you can't—"

"Can't what? Care for you? Want you? It's too late for that." His hand reached out, fingers brushing my cheek in a touch so gentle it made me want to scream. "I've tried to fight it. God knows I've tried."

"This is insane," I whispered.

"Is it?" His eyes searched mine. "Or is it the most logical thing in the world? The daughter of the woman my father destroyed, coming to destroy his son. Poetic justice."

"I wanted to hurt you," I admitted, the confession tearing from my throat. "I spent years planning it. I was going to take everything from you, make you feel what my mother felt—helpless, betrayed, alone."

"And now?" His question hung in the air between us.

I closed my eyes, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. "Now I don't know what I want anymore."

His hand slid from my cheek to my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. "Yes, you do."

When his lips found mine, I didn't resist. The kiss was different this time—not desperate or possessive, but achingly tender, as if he was memorizing the feel of me.

When we broke apart, I was crying. "This can't work. You know that."

"It can if we choose it."

I shook my head. "Your mother knows who I am. Noah suspects. The moment this gets out—"

"I don't care." His voice hardened. "Let them know. Let everyone know."

"Your company—"

"Is just money and power. I'd burn it all to the ground if it meant keeping you."

The conviction in his voice terrified me. This wasn't the calculated manipulation I'd expected from Cassian Thorne. This was something far more dangerous—raw emotion, unfiltered need.

"You need help," I whispered. "This isn't normal, Cassian. The surveillance, the controlling behavior. You're obsessed, not in love."

Something darkened in his expression. "And what would you know about love? You came here with lies on your lips and vengeance in your heart."

"At least my motives were honest!"

"Were they?" He stepped back, his voice cooling. "Or have you been lying to yourself as much as to me? Pretending this is all about justice when really, it's about filling the void your mother's death left behind?"

His words hit too close to home. I lashed out, slapping him hard across the face.

Cassian didn't flinch. "Feel better?"

"I hate you," I whispered, not meaning it, hating myself for not meaning it.

"No, you don't." His certainty was maddening. "You hate that I see through you. You hate that I know you better than you know yourself."

I turned away, unable to face the truth in his words. "I'm leaving. Don't try to stop me."

"You won't make it past the gates."

I whirled back to face him. "So what—I'm your prisoner now?"

"You've always been free to go." His voice softened. "I'm just pointing out a fact. Helena has alerted security. They won't let you leave."

Fear crept up my spine. "What has she done?"

"Exposed you. To the staff, to security, to the board of directors." Cassian moved to the window, looking out at the grounds below. "At this moment, everyone in my world knows that you're not Elise Thorne. That you infiltrated this family under false pretenses."

"And you're just telling me this now?" Panic clawed at my throat.

"I was hoping to handle it differently." He turned back to me, his expression grim. "I was going to announce that I'd known all along—that I'd brought you in deliberately to flush out my father's old allies."

I stared at him. "That's... actually brilliant."

"It would have protected both of us. Now—" he shrugged, "—now things are more complicated."

"Complicated how?"

Cassian's phone chimed. He glanced at it, his jaw tightening. "The media has the story. You're about to become infamous, Maeve."

As if on cue, my own phone exploded with notifications. With trembling fingers, I opened one—a news alert with my face plastered across it. The headline read: "THORNE HEIR DECEIVED BY FRAUDSTER SEEKING REVENGE."

"Oh god," I breathed.

"It gets worse," Cassian said grimly, showing me his screen. Another story was breaking: "CASSIAN THORNE'S MENTAL STATE QUESTIONED AS SISTER IMPERSONATOR LIVES IN FAMILY HOME."

The room seemed to close in around me. "This is a nightmare."

"It's Helena's doing. She's trying to force my hand—either disavow you publicly or face a board inquiry into my mental fitness to lead."

"Then disavow me," I said desperately. "Tell them I tricked you. Tell them whatever you need to save your position."

Cassian looked at me as if I'd suggested something absurd. "No."

"Cassian, be reasonable—"

"I said no." His voice was steel. "I won't let them turn you into a scapegoat."

"But your company—"

"Will survive." He crossed to me in two strides, taking my hands in his. "Listen to me. Right now, reporters are gathering at the gates. The board is calling an emergency meeting. Helena is probably contacting the police. We have maybe an hour before this turns into a circus."

I pulled my hands away. "Then let me go. I'll disappear. Start over somewhere new."

"And go where? Do what?" His voice softened. "Your identity is blown, Maeve. By morning, your face will be everywhere."

The reality of my situation hit me like a physical blow. I sank onto the bed, legs suddenly unable to support me. "I've destroyed both of us."

Cassian knelt before me, his hands on my knees. "No. You've freed us."

I looked up, meeting his gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"As long as you were pretending to be Elise, we were living a lie. Now the truth is out—messy and complicated and painful, but real."

"The truth that I came here to ruin you?" I asked bitterly.

"The truth that you came seeking justice for your mother." He reached up to brush a tear from my cheek. "The truth that somewhere along the way, we both lost control of the narrative."

His words stirred something in me—not hope exactly, but perhaps its distant cousin. "What do we do now?"

Cassian's expression turned resolute. "We take control back."

Before I could ask what he meant, he stood and pulled me to my feet. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

The question hung between us, weighted with everything we'd been through. Did I trust the man who had monitored my every move? Who had known my true identity all along and said nothing? Who had allowed me to believe I was manipulating him when he had always been three steps ahead?

And yet, this was also the man who had taken a knife for me. Who had protected me even knowing I meant to destroy him. Who looked at me now not with anger or betrayal, but with something that looked dangerously like devotion.

"I don't know," I answered honestly.

His smile was sad but understanding. "Fair enough. But right now, I need you to act as if you do."

As he led me from the room and down a back staircase I hadn't known existed, I realized I was at a crossroads. I could break away, try to escape on my own—face the media storm, the potential legal consequences, the end of the life I'd built.

Or I could follow Cassian into whatever plan he had concocted, binding my fate to his even more tightly than before.

In the end, it wasn't really a choice at all.

As we reached a hidden door that apparently led to an underground garage, I caught his arm. "Cassian, wait."

He paused, looking back at me with a question in his eyes.

"If we do this—if I go with you—I need to know it's not just another game. I need to know it's real."

For a moment, he simply looked at me. Then, with deliberate care, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver key.

"This opens a safe deposit box at First National," he said, pressing it into my palm. "Inside are documents proving your mother's innocence. Security footage showing my father planting the diamonds. Witness statements. Everything needed to clear her name."

I stared at the key, my vision blurring with tears. "You've had this all along?"

"I've been gathering evidence for years. Waiting."

"For what?"

His answer was simple: "For you."

As the door opened onto a sleek black car waiting in the shadows, I made my final decision. I would go with him—not because I fully trusted him, not because I'd forgiven his family, but because somewhere in the twisted path that had led us here, Cassian Thorne had become my only constant.

Whether that was love or madness remained to be seen.