Chapter 17
Every day, he lay in the sterile chill of the hospital room, shadows of regret clinging to him like ghosts. Memories of Thalia filled his mind–her laughter, her warmth, her presence -but each recollection only deepened his despair as he realized, too late, how much he had taken her for granted. The more he dwelled on it, the more his heart throbbed with agonizing regret.
In his dreams, she was there, but not as he remembered. Her face was cold, her back turned to him as if she was walking away forever. In those haunted moments of sleep, he would cry out, his voice trembling with desperation. “Thalia, don’t go! Please, don’t leave me!”
It was as if his soul had already died, leaving
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only a hollow shell. Nothing stirred him anymore–not the doctors, not the passing of time. The only reaction he ever showed was when someone uttered her name.
The Moreau Family had hired every professional they could find–psychiatrists, counselors–but Cassian refused to cooperate. In one desperate attempt to ignite some flicker of hope within him, they brought in a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Thalia. But the mere sight of her incensed him.
That day, his anger erupted–so violently that he coughed up blood. His face contorted with panic as he shoved the woman away, his hoarse voice trembling with rage. “It’s because of Selene!” he bellowed. “It’s because of her that Thalia left me!”
His eyes burned red, glistening with unshed
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tears. “Get away from me!” he roared, his screams reverberating down the sterile hospital halls. “Leave me alone! I swear I will never hurt Thalia again! Just… leave me!”
Two years had passed, yet each agonizing day stretched into eternity, as if the weight of his guilt had slowed the very passage of time. Each night was its own torment, the pain so crushing that he occasionally collapsed from sheer exhaustion, muttering Thalia’s name in his barely conscious state.
But fate has an astonishing way of stirring stagnant waters. One day, a photo- seemingly insignificant, tucked within an anonymous crowd–surfaced on the internet and sent waves rippling through countless
users.
“Wait… Is that Thalia?!” someone exclaimed. “The daughter of actress Isolde?”
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“No way,” another comment followed. “She’s pregnant–at least seven months along! Look how radiant she is.”
“What a stunning couple,” another gushed. “They look so happy together!”
Yet not everyone was content to admire. Beneath the celebration, a somber voice sounded a warning: “Take it down. Quickly. If the Moreau or Wynn families see this, they’ll ruin her life.”
But it was already too late. The photo vanished from the web soon after–but not before it reached precisely where it shouldn’t have.
In his hospital room, Cassian stared at the image with unsteady hands as his mother handed him her phone. “This… This is Thalia,”
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he stammered, a tremor in his voice. “I know it, Mom. It’s her. It has to be.”
This wasn’t the first time his mother had brought him a flicker of hope over the years. For months–years even–her tireless search had yielded nothing but false leads and disappointment. Yet something about this photo made Cassian pause. Made him hope.
As his eyes trailed over the image, his pupils dilated. His fingers tightened around it, trembling slightly. There she was–her face achingly familiar, still delicate even with the faintest hint of exhaustion lining her features. And there, the unmistakable curve of her belly. Next to her stood a man, his arm gently supporting her, his expression one of tenderness.
Thalia’s gentle smile, the way her eyes glimmered with warmth–it was like a dagger
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to his chest. Sharp, painful, undeniable.
“Thalia…” he breathed. “She has a… child?”
The thought unraveled quickly in his mind, his emotions a chaotic storm. There was no denying it. The woman who had once promised her love to him now stood in another man’s arms, carrying his child. The realization left him numb, cold, an icy ache in his chest spreading like frost.
Bitterly, Cassian clenched his jaw. “She’s punishing me. This is her revenge for what happened with Selene. That’s why she disappeared.”
But even as his hateful thoughts attempted to rationalize her absence, a quiet, fragile thread of hope coiled within him. “If Thalia comes back, none of this will matter,’ he muttered to himself, resolving to bury his
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pride–and his pain.
Yet that very image of the man by her side burned in his mind, fanning a darker fire in his chest. He would never forgive the one who had stolen her away. “She didn’t disappear willingly,” he whispered, venom lacing his voice. “That bastard must have kept her from me.”
Determination flared within him. With trembling hands, he reached for his phone and dialed a number. “Callum,” he said as soon as the call connected. “I’ve found her. I’ve found Thalia.”
On the other end, Callum’s face grew grim as he stared at the same photo Cassian had sent him. After a tense beat, he replied, his tone steely. “The Wynn Family will do everything in its power to get her back.”
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But as he stared at the image again, Callum’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. The man in the picture was an enigma to him, but the protectiveness he felt toward his sister flared. “Who is this man?” he growled under his breath. “If he’s hurt Thalia, he’ll regret ever crossing me.”
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