Cassandra waited for the elevator on the penthouse floor, her heart hammering against her ribs. The slap had felt good-too good. It was a release of five years of pent-up rage, but her hand was trembling in her lap. She clenched it into a fist to hide the reaction.

She rolled straight to the intercom on the wall near the kitchen. She pressed the button for the study.

"I want to borrow Cerberus," she said into the speaker.

There was static silence for five long seconds. Then, Kade's voice came through, distorted but unmistakably deep. "Cerberus only takes orders from me. What do you want with him?"

"I want him to visit the guests in the basement," Cassandra replied, her voice devoid of hesitation. "They seem to think their current accommodations are too comfortable. I want to add some... ambiance."

Kade stared at the monitor. He saw the set of her jaw. She wasn't asking for permission; she was stating an intent.

"Viper will bring him down," Kade said, his finger hovering over the release button. "Don't let him kill them. The paperwork is a hassle."

Five minutes later, the elevator doors in the basement opened again. This time, Cassandra wasn't alone. Beside her stood a beast of a dog-a black Doberman Pinscher with cropped ears and a tactical collar. Cerberus. Kade's personal attack dog. A weapon with fur.

Viper held the leash, looking nervous. Cerberus usually growled at everyone except Kade.

Cassandra looked at the dog. In her previous life, she had studied canine behavior extensively for a covert op involving a drug lord's kennel. She knew exactly where to touch. She reached out, her fingers pressing firmly into the pressure point behind the dog's ear, a spot that triggered a calming endorphin release.

Cerberus stiffened, then leaned into her hand, letting out a low chuff of approval.

"Good boy," she whispered.

She took the leash, looping it around the armrest of her wheelchair. Viper let go, stunned.

She rolled back to the cell. Dillon and Bianca were huddled together for warmth. When they saw the black beast trotting beside Cassandra's chair, they scrambled back against the far wall, screaming.

"Open it," Cassandra commanded.

The door slid open. Cassandra rolled inside. Cerberus sensed the fear. His hackles rose. A low, rumbling growl vibrated through the room, bouncing off the glass walls.

"Get him away!" Dillon shrieked, pushing Bianca in front of him as a human shield.

Cassandra gave the leash a fraction of slack. Cerberus lunged, snapping his jaws inches from Dillon's shin.

Dillon fell to the floor, scrambling backward crab-like. A dark stain spread across the front of his trousers. The smell of urine hit the air.

Cassandra looked down at him with pure disgust. "Look at you," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "This is the man I was supposed to run away with? You're not even a man. You're less than a dog."

She pulled Cerberus back to a heel. She turned to Viper.

"Strip them."

Viper blinked. "Madam?"

"Every stitch of clothing on their backs was paid for by the Williams family trust," Cassandra said. "If I am cutting ties, I am cutting them completely. I want it all back."

"Take it off!" Viper barked at his men.

The guards moved in. It was efficient and humiliating. Dillon and Bianca were stripped down to their underwear. They shivered, crying, covering themselves with their hands.

"Throw them out," Cassandra ordered.

"Madam," Viper interjected quietly. "It's a blizzard out there. Ten degrees below zero."

Cassandra turned her wheelchair toward the elevator, the dog trotting by her side. She didn't look back.

"Good. Maybe the cold will wake them up."

The scene outside the service entrance was chaotic. The heavy steel doors opened, and Dillon and Bianca were shoved out into the alley. The wind howled, carrying biting snow that stung like needles.

They landed in a snowbank, gasping as the freezing cold hit their exposed skin.

"My coat! Please!" Bianca wailed, reaching for the door.

The door slammed shut with a final, metallic thud.

Passersby on the main avenue stopped. Phones came out. Flashes went off. The heiress of the Benson family and her fiancé, half-naked in the snow, kicked out of the Mullen tower.

Inside the security room, Cassandra watched the feed. She watched them shiver. She watched them humiliated.

She felt a presence behind her. The smell of tobacco smoke.

She turned. Kade was leaning against the doorframe, a lit cigar in his hand. He was watching her with a look she had never seen before. It wasn't anger. It was fascination.

"You're crueler than I thought," he said, smoke curling from his lips.

Cassandra rolled her chair toward him. She didn't stop until she was in his personal space, looking up at him.

"The girl who would have given them a blanket is dead," she said softly. "You buried her."

Kade's eyes narrowed. He took a drag of his cigar, his gaze dropping to her lips, then back to her eyes. The tension between them crackled, electric and dangerous.

"Good riddance," he murmured.

The moment the elevator doors closed, isolating Cassandra from the security team and the basement, the adrenaline abandoned her.

Her vision blurred. The floor seemed to tilt violently to the left.

Her grip on the wheelchair controller slipped. Her head lolled forward, her chin hitting her chest.

Before she could slump out of the chair, an arm, hard as iron, hooked under her knees and another around her back. Kade. He had moved with the speed of a striking cobra.

Cassandra slumped against him, her head falling onto his chest. Through the thin fabric of his dress shirt, she felt the solid wall of muscle and the heat radiating from him. It was overwhelming.

"I've got you," he grunted, his voice vibrating through his chest against her ear.

She didn't push him away. She couldn't. Instead, her hand instinctively clutched his lapel, bunching the expensive fabric. "Sorry," she whispered, her voice faint. "Dizzy."

Kade went rigid. For five years, her touch had been a recoil, a slap, or a push. Now, she was clinging to him like he was the only anchor in a storm.

He didn't speak. He lifted her effortlessly out of the chair. The "princess carry" felt cliché, but in his arms, it felt like being carried by a fortress.

He walked down the hall to the master bedroom. He kicked the door open and carried her to the massive bed, laying her down with a surprising gentleness. He treated her like she was made of spun glass.

He frowned, his brows knitting together as he took her wrist, checking her pulse. His thumb pressed against her skin, calloused and warm.

"You pushed too hard," he muttered, more to himself than her. "You're still recovering."

He turned to the nightstand, poured a glass of water, and held it to her lips. She drank obediently, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Sleep," he commanded, his voice losing its sharp edge.

He turned to leave.

Cassandra's hand shot out. Her pinky finger hooked around his.

"Don't go," she murmured, the exhaustion slurring her words. "Just... sit. Please."

Kade froze. He looked down at their joined hands. Her finger was small, pale, wrapped around his scarred, large one. It was a tether he hadn't expected.

He let out a long, ragged breath. He pulled a heavy armchair from the corner, dragging it to the bedside. He sat down in the shadows, watching her.

"I'm here," he said gruffly.

Cassandra drifted off. It was the deepest sleep she had had in two lifetimes. She felt safe.

But the subconscious is a cruel director.

Hours later, deep in REM sleep, the memories of the warehouse resurfaced. The needle. The betrayal.

Cassandra tossed on the bed, her brow furrowed in distress.

"Dillon..." she moaned in her sleep, her voice filled with pain. "I'll kill you..."

But her face was buried in the pillow. The words were muffled.

Sitting in the dark, Kade heard only one word.

Dillon.

The air in the room froze. The tentative warmth that had built up over the last few hours shattered like ice.

Kade stood up. The chair screeched against the floor.

He stared down at her. He thought the slap, the dog, the cruelty-it was all a show. A performance to make him lower his guard. In her dreams, where the truth lived, she was still calling for him.

The pain hit him like a physical blow to the gut, followed instantly by the shield of anger.

Cassandra jolted awake at the sound of the chair. She blinked blearily into the darkness, seeing Kade's silhouette looming over her. The vibe was wrong. It was hostile again.

"Kade?" she whispered.

He didn't answer. He turned and walked out of the room, his stride long and angry. The door slammed shut with a finality that shook the walls.

Cassandra reached out into the empty air. She realized with a sinking heart that she must have talked in her sleep.

She fell back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling.

"Damn it," she hissed.

She didn't cry. Crying wouldn't fix this. Only blood would. Tomorrow, she would have to burn the rest of the world down to prove whose side she was on.

Morning brought a cold, gray light into the penthouse. The space beside Cassandra was empty and untouched. The sheets were cold.

A maid she didn't recognize entered with a tray. "Breakfast, Mrs. Mullen. And your medication."

Cassandra sat up. On the tray, beside a bowl of oatmeal, sat two pills. An antidepressant and a heavy sedative. Kade's way of managing the 'hysterical' wife.

"Thank you," Cassandra said. She popped the pills into her mouth, took a sip of water, and swallowed.

The maid watched, satisfied, and turned to tidy the room.

The moment the maid's back was turned, Cassandra coughed into a napkin, spitting the pills out. She folded the napkin and tucked it into her sleeve.

"Where is Kade?" she asked.

"Mr. Mullen went to the office early. He said he won't be back tonight."

The cold shoulder. Expected.

Cassandra picked up the iPad left on the nightstand. She unlocked it and opened Twitter.

Her breath hitched.

The trending topics were ablaze.

BensonHeiressCrazy

NakedInSnow

CruellaDeVil

The video of Dillon and Bianca being thrown into the snow had gone viral. It was grainy, but the narrative was clear. The internet had sided with the 'victims'.

@User123: Look at how they treated them! Cassandra Mullen is a psycho just like her husband.

@DillonN_Official: We were just trying to check on her mental health. She set a dog on us. We are pressing charges.

Cassandra scrolled through the hate. She didn't flinch. She smiled.

"Good," she whispered. "Let them look."

She opened a browser and navigated to a seemingly innocuous gaming forum. Her fingers flew across the virtual keyboard, inputting a sequence of commands into the search bar that triggered a backdoor she had exploited in a previous life. It wasn't the work of 'Q'-that persona was still a ghost in the machine, dormant. This was simple, dirty work.

She accessed an old, anonymous cryptocurrency wallet she had set up years ago as a contingency. It held enough untraceable Bitcoin to buy a small island, or in this case, information.

She typed a message to a contact known only as 'Ghost'.

User: Unknown

Message: I need the offshore ledger for 'Blue Horizon'. Payment is waiting in the usual dead drop wallet.

Three minutes later, a reply popped up.

User: Ghost

Message: Done. Sending now.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted downstairs. Shouting.

Cassandra maneuvered herself into her wheelchair and rolled to the landing of the grand staircase, peering through the banister.

Down in the foyer, an older man with a red face was screaming at Viper. It was Old Man Newman, Dillon's father.

"Let me see her! That bitch ruined my son's reputation!" Newman shouted, trying to push past Viper.

Viper stood like a stone wall, his hand resting on his holster.

"Mr. Newman," Cassandra's voice floated down from the stairs, cool and imperious.

Everyone looked up. She sat there, gripping the armrests of her chair, looking like a queen on a throne.

"If you take one more step, I will have you arrested for trespassing," she said.

"You!" Newman pointed a shaking finger at her. "You're unstable! I'm calling the police! My son is in the hospital with frostbite!"

"Your son," Cassandra said, her voice echoing in the high-ceilinged foyer, "is under investigation for defrauding the Williams family trust. If I were you, I'd be more worried about the FBI raid that's going to happen at your office in..." she checked her watch, "...about an hour."

Newman froze. "You... you're bluffing."

"Am I?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "I suggest you check the news. When I release the documents I'm currently holding regarding your shell companies, your stock won't just dip, Mr. Newman. It will flatline. I don't need to short it. I just need to tell the truth."

Fear replaced anger on his face. He turned and fled, the heavy door slamming behind him.

Viper looked up at Cassandra. He touched his earpiece.

"Boss," Viper murmured. "She handled it. Newman ran."

In his office across town, Kade listened to the report. He sat back in his leather chair, the anger from the night before warring with a begrudging respect.

"Keep watching her," Kade said.

Back in the penthouse, the iPad pinged.

User: Ghost

Message: File attached. 5 million hidden.

Cassandra grinned.