Chapter 8: Care

The sound of a car engine roared sharply on the busy New York highway. Caspian gripped the steering wheel tightly, lines of tension visible on his handsome yet serious face. His dark eyes looked straight ahead, taking in every detail of the road until Cassandra's Boutique came into view in the distance. What he found, however, was no ordinary sight.

A group of journalists surrounded the boutique, their cameras flashing in a blinding light. They could be heard cheering and asking endless questions of the security guards, who were beginning to be overwhelmed by the flow of people. 

“This is crazy,” Caspian muttered, his lips pressed tightly together. “If they see me here, this is it. Another piece of bad news is bound to hit Cassandra.” He turned the wheel quickly and took a small road that only fit one car, hidden between old buildings. A faint smile played on his lips, full of satisfaction at knowing an opening that not many people knew about.

Caspian parked his car at the end of the narrow street, out of sight of the reporters. He looked around carefully to make sure no one was following him. When he felt safe, he got out of the car with quick steps, his shoulders square, splitting the cold wind that blew softly. 

Behind the boutique, a small door made of old wood came into view. He took a deep breath before opening it. 

Once inside, he was immediately struck by the chaotic atmosphere. Clothes were scattered on the floor; mannequins fell with outstretched arms like victims.

The scent of luxurious perfume mingled with the smell of wet paper and dust. The employees of the boutique, mostly young women, crouched down to pick up the scattered clothes. Some of them looked at Caspian with surprised expressions, as if they had seen a ghost in broad daylight.

“What's going on here?” Caspian's voice echoed through the room, his tone firm yet trembling, reflecting the anger he was holding in.

The staff looked at each other, as if hoping that someone would dare to answer the question. No one dared speak. They knew exactly who this man was-Alaric's father. He was one of those conglomerates who was rarely seen in public, but his appearance was always a hot topic in the media.

“I ask you again, who is making this mess?” Caspian stepped forward, his eyes searching every face he encountered, looking for answers hidden behind their fear.

Finally, an employee stepped forward, her face deathly pale, her lips trembling. “S-Sorry. We don't know who started it… it just came out of nowhere and…” She couldn't go on, her throat choked with an overwhelming sense of fear.

Caspian took a long breath, forcing himself to remain calm despite the rumbling in his chest.

He approached the table and saw a golden invitation hidden among the magazines. Cassandra's name was engraved on the paper in a familiar handwriting.

A middle-aged woman approached Caspian with nervous steps. Her neatly tied hair was beginning to fall apart, her eyes looked tired, but there was a look of respect on her face. She was the boutique manager, the one who always tried to keep the place in tip-top shape.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Caspian,” her voice sounded hoarse. “We don't know exactly what happened in Cassandra's room. But suddenly Selene came out screaming, ruined some clothes, and then made a mess of the whole boutique. The guards tried to restrain her, but she threatened to report us to the police.”

Caspian narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching at the report. His hands were clenched at his sides, attempting to contain the anger that was beginning to take hold.

“Thank you for the information. Now go home. No one is to speak to the reporters outside about this incident. If anyone dares to violate this, I will not hesitate to take legal action.” His tone was low, but contained a clear threat.

The employees nodded obediently, their faces pale. Without another word, they quickly returned to tidying up the boutique, trying to clean up the mess left behind as quickly as possible. They knew full well that Caspian's threat was not to be taken lightly.

With quick steps, Caspian made his way to Cassandra's private quarters. He knew this place well — perhaps too well. Like a haunting ghost, he was constantly looking for an excuse to learn everything about her, even the smallest things.

He stopped in front of the pink painted door, which contrasted with the elegant walls of the boutique. He looked sharp in a high-quality black suit that highlighted his tall and muscular physique. His dark eyes narrowed as he heard a sobbing sound from behind the door. The sound, faint, and full of pain, made his heart tremble even though he would rather not admit it.

Slowly, he turned the doorknob, making sure his steps were light so as not to startle Cassandra. The room was neat, yet the air was chilly, as if reflecting the feelings of the woman inside. A crystal chandelier glittered on the ceiling, but not enough to dispel the dark shadows that dominated the room.

On the white sofa facing the window, Cassandra sat with her back to him. Her shoulders trembled with every sob, her flowing long blonde hair a stark contrast to her usual elegant demeanor. Caspian couldn't help himself. He approached cautiously, his breath catching in his throat as he saw the woman in such a fragile state.

“How long are you going to keep crying like that?” Caspian asked softly, his voice deep but full of concern that he could not hide.

Cassandra slowly lowered the hands that covered her face. Her sobs were still audible, but now they were fainter. She looked up at Caspian, who stood before her with puffy, sad eyes. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, leaving a shimmering trail of wetness.

Caspian crouched down in front of her, lowering himself to be level with Cassandra's face. Gently, he wiped away the tears from her cheeks with the handkerchief he pulled from his coat pocket. His hand didn't stop there; he also wiped Cassandra's wet nose.

His rough yet warm fingers touched Cassandra's chin, lifting her face so he could see her eyes. “Tell me, what exactly happened?”

Cassandra's eyes turned red as she tried to hold back the tears that were welling up again. “Selene came… she brought up things that should have been buried long ago. Things about the past.” Cassandra's voice broke at the end of the sentence, her head bowed, no longer daring to look at Caspian.

Caspian took a deep breath, the anger he had hidden for so long coming back to hit him. He knew it would happen sooner or later - the past that Cassandra had tried to bury was never really gone.

Cassandra raised her head and stared at Caspian's face. There was something in her eyes, a mixture of fear and hope. “Why do you still care for me?”

Caspian smiled weakly, bitterly. He tucked Cassandra's hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering there as if to savor the touch, he had longed for. “Because I never stopped caring for you, Cass. Not for a second.”

The words hung in the air, making time seem to stand still. Cassandra closed her eyes, the tears flowing again, but this time they felt different — no longer cries of sadness, but a relief she couldn't explain.

“I thought you had forgotten my son,” Caspian said in a softer voice, yet laden with a hidden cynical tone. “But apparently you still love him enough to cry like this.”