CASSANDRA
Derek knows.
The thought pounded in my head like a war drum, louder than the creaking floorboards beneath my feet as I stumbled back inside my cottage. I couldn’t breathe. My skin was ice. I gripped the edge of the counter like the world might slide out from under me if I let go.
He knows.
How? How could he possibly know?
My mind raced. The memory had been buried so long—so deep—even I had nearly forgotten it. I’d done everything to keep it hidden. To rewrite the truth in Derek’s eyes. It had worked. For years, it had worked.
But now?
Elena.
Of course.
She must have remembered.
I felt bile rise in my throat.
The bitter taste of humiliation, of fury.
Elena Hart.
She had always been the thorn in my side. The ghost in every one of Derek’s stares. The ache he never admit
