Just as Cassian was about to pass the lobby and head toward the street, a voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Mr. West!" the building manager called out, his voice sharp and commanding.
Cassian turned around, brow furrowed. He regarded the older man in the neat brown uniform with a flicker of annoyance.
"What is it? Be quick—I've got somewhere to be," Cassian replied, brushing a hand through his damp hair with visible impatience. His voice was clipped, his posture arrogant, the remnants of his old self still lingering in the way he looked down on people he considered beneath him.
The manager's jaw clenched. He had already been nursing a headache all morning, thanks to the property owner's relentless calls.
Pressure.
That's all this job was now—pressure to get rid of Cassian West. A man who once strutted into this building like he owned the city, now reduced to a cautionary tale with unpaid bills, erratic behaviour, and loud crash outs that kept the neighbors awake.
At first, the manager had planned to give Cassian a two-day buffer—maybe even help him leave with some dignity.
But now?
The disrespect in his voice, the entitlement still dripping off him despite everything…
I was going to show you mercy, the manager thought coldly. Now I won't even hand you an umbrella when the storm hits.
He reached into his folder and pulled out a manila envelope, then extended it toward Cassian.
"Here," he said. "You've been served."
Cassian took it with a confused expression, unfolding the papers inside—and then his confusion melted into disbelief.
His jaw dropped. His grip on the envelope tightened.
"What… the hell is this?"
"It's an eviction notice, Mr. West," the manager said firmly. "You're required to vacate the premises within twenty-four hours."
"Eviction!?" Cassian scoffed. "What kind of joke is this? You can't just throw me out without a damn reason! Who the hell filed a complaint?"
The manager's expression remained professional, but there was a slight upward curve at the corner of his lips—as if he were savoring the moment.
"We've received multiple complaints, sir. About your behavior, the noise levels, the… alcohol-related disturbances, and more recently, inappropriate interactions with a female resident. The community board voted unanimously."
Cassian's face turned a deeper shade of red, a mix of fury and humiliation. "That's ridiculous! This is my apartment, I pay rent here—!"
The manager cut him off.
"With all due respect, Mr. West, your rent has been late for two months, and you've been verbally aggressive with staff and neighbors. Your contract allows us to terminate the lease under these conditions—especially if the community reports feel unsafe."
Cassian opened his mouth again, but this time nothing came out. His eyes darted down to the bold lettering on the document in his hands.
"Eviction Order – To Be Executed Within 24 Hours."
The words glared up at him like a death sentence.
"But… you can't— This is coming out of nowhere! I—"
The manager didn't wait for him to finish.
"You have until tomorrow evening to clear out your belongings. If you haven't vacated the apartment by then, we'll be forced to involve the authorities. Have a good day."
He turned and walked away, leaving Cassian standing alone in the middle of the lobby—eyes wide, mouth half-open, heart pounding.
Cassian's grip on the paper tightened until his knuckles turned white. His head was spinning.
No. No, no, this isn't happening.
He'd lost Avery's property. He'd lost his job. And now… his apartment?
His whole world was collapsing in pieces around him—and he was not ready to admit defeat.
He looked down at the eviction papers again.
How did it all fall apart so fast?
Then it hit him—like a desperate gasp of air after nearly drowning.
"Layla."
That was his last chance. She always listened. Always helped him cover up his mistakes. She had to know what was going on. Maybe she could fix this. Maybe she could talk to someone, pull a few strings, or lend him some money to keep the apartment. Anything.
He needed her. Now.
Without wasting another second, Cassian shoved the papers back into the envelope, stormed out of the building, and flagged down a cab.
" Layla arts and fashions , East Avenue. Fast."
As the car sped off, he tapped his foot anxiously, his leg bouncing with restless energy. There was a storm behind his eyes—a toxic mix of guilt, panic, and bruised ego. And at the center of it all was Avery Vale.
Damn her. Damn Silas. Damn everything!
But no matter how much he cursed them in his head,there was nothing he coulddo right now.
Soon he reached his destination, stumbling out of the cab and as soon as Cassian stormed into the building, ready to barge into Layla's office, he was stopped at the front desk.
"Sir, I'm sorry, you can't go in like this," the receptionist said, rising to her feet. "You need an appointment—"
"I don't have time for that," Cassian snapped, barely keeping the desperation from creeping into his tone. "Call Layla and tell her Cassian is here. She'll want to see me."
The receptionist blinked but quickly picked up the phone. After a brief conversation with Layla's secretary, she put down the receiver and turned toward him, her voice more cautious this time.
"Ma'am said to bring you in… through the emergency exit."
Cassian's jaw clenched. Emergency exit? As if he were some kind of criminal sneaking into the shadows. Why couldn't he walk through the front doors like a normal person? Like he used to?
Still, he swallowed his pride—what little of it he had left—and followed the receptionist without another word.
The private elevator whisked them upward, the hum of the machinery somehow louder than his own shallow breathing. When the doors opened just outside Layla's office, Cassian didn't wait for anyone. He stormed in, flinging the door open like he owned the place.
Layla looked up from her sleek glass desk, her brows lifting the moment she saw him.
"Uncivilized as ever," she muttered under her breath.
Trailing just behind him, her flustered secretary dashed in. "I'm so sorry, Ma'am! He rushed in, and I couldn't stop—"
"It's fine. You can go," Layla said with a sigh, waving her hand dismissively. The secretary gave Cassian one final nervous glance before closing the door behind her.
As soon as they were alone, Cassian crossed the distance between them in two long strides and wrapped his arms around her like a lifeline.
"Baby, I'm so sorry for the other day!" he said, his voice raw with panic. "I know I was a jerk, but please… please don't be mad at me. I need you."
Layla didn't return the hug. She stood still in his arms for a moment before peeling herself away, retreating to the safety of her chair. The calm, calculating expression on her face didn't change. She gestured at the seat across from her.
"Sit," she said curtly.
Cassian obeyed instantly, as if it were instinct. Once seated, he reached out to take her hand, desperation oozing from his every word. "Baby, things are falling apart. I lost my job. My apartment building handed me an eviction notice this morning—twenty-four hours to clear out! What do I do now?!"
Layla clicked her tongue in annoyance, pulling her hand away from his.
"This is all that witch Avery's doing!" she snapped. "And honestly, Cassian… how stupid can you be? I told you not to come anywhere near me. Do you want the world to know we've been working together? If Avery finds out, she'll destroy both of us."
Cassian's shoulders slumped. "But what choice do I have? I have nowhere to go. No money. No job. I… I just…"
He reached for her hand again but froze when he saw her eyes narrow.
Layla stood up slowly and walked toward the mini-bar in the corner, pouring herself a glass of lemon water. Her back was to him as she spoke, her voice smooth and cool like a blade sliding across silk.
"I know exactly what you want," she said, turning to face him. "So listen carefully. I'll give you enough money to get out of the city—some place far from here. Lay low. Don't contact me unless I contact you. I can't afford to be seen with you, not now."
Cassian exhaled sharply, the tension in his chest easing slightly. "Thank you, baby. I knew you'd come through."
But there was still one thread hanging loose, and it itched at him too deeply to ignore.
"What about our plan?" he asked, his voice quiet but urgent. "All that time we spent targeting Avery… Is it all wasted now?"
A slow, almost dangerous smile unfurled on layla's face. She walked back to him, eyes gleaming with malice.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said, her tone laced with venom. "Making Avery suffer is the only thing that keeps me sane. I will not let all of our hard work go to waste. I don't care how powerful she thinks she is now—every empire she builds, I will tear it down brick by brick."
Cassian stared at her, the fear in his heart momentarily replaced by awe.
To him she looked beautiful—dangerous and beautiful.
"All that she has," Layla continued, stepping closer and tapping her manicured nail on the center of his chest, "will eventually be mine. Her name, her position, her legacy—everything. Even the people who love her…"
Cassian swallowed.
"…will end up hating her."