4: Encountering Lorenzo 

Cassandra lay on her bed, the minimalistic decor of her room starkly contrasting with the idea of a cozy home. The predominantly white-and-gray color scheme, along with the sterile white bedding, made the space feel more like a hotel room than her sanctuary. It lacked warmth, much like her life. 

When Lorenzo called her phone, she hesitated before finally answering. 

“Hello?” Cassandra said politely, pressing the phone to her ear. 

Lorenzo sat casually on a sofa, one arm draped over the armrest. “It’s me, Mr. White.” 

Hearing his name, Cassandra’s mind was instantly flooded with memories of that night—the confined car space, his deep, seductive voice, his overpowering presence. She froze for a moment, then quickly hung up the phone. Not stopping there, she blacklisted the number. 

On the other end of the line, Lorenzo stared at his phone, a trace of helplessness flashing across his otherwise composed face. He hadn’t expected much interaction with Cassandra after that night. Their worlds were too different, and the age gap was glaring. 

But life had other plans. The revelation that she was his nephew’s fiancée complicated everything. He couldn’t just sit back and watch her marry his nephew, not after what had happened between them. 

Sighing, Lorenzo pinched the bridge of his nose. He had intended to discuss the situation with her, but her reaction made it clear that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. 

---

Cassandra buried her face in her pillow, her mind racing. Fear gnawed at her—what if the truth came out? It wouldn’t just ruin her father’s carefully laid plans; it would devastate her mother as well. 

She was both unlucky and lucky. The two drunks hadn’t succeeded in harming her, but the alternative hadn’t been much better. Now, every time she closed her eyes, she saw Mr. White’s face, felt his strong hands gripping her waist, heard his rough yet seductive voice uttering crude, commanding words. 

She wanted to forget, to erase those memories, but she couldn’t. It was her first time, and it lingered like a shadow in her mind. What she couldn’t understand was why Mr. White was calling her out of the blue. 

Her first instinct had been to hang up and block the number, a reflex born of fear and panic. 

---

Lorenzo poured himself a glass of red wine, downed it, and pulled the towel from around his waist as he lay in bed. Just as he was drifting into sleep, his phone buzzed. Seeing the caller ID—his grandfather—he frowned and reluctantly picked up. 

“Grandson, let me tell you something,” the old man barked. “If you don’t bring home a wife this year, I’ll tan your hide!” 

Lorenzo sighed. “Got it. Time difference. Bye.” 

Before his grandfather could say another word, Lorenzo hung up. 

Of all the things plaguing his mind—investment issues in New Avalon, troublesome small-time gangs, or competitive business disputes—nothing annoyed him more than his grandfather’s relentless pressure to marry. 

The situation was worsened by the fact that his younger cousin had just had a baby, making Lorenzo’s bachelor status even more glaring. His grandfather, now suspicious of Lorenzo’s "preferences," had taken to interrogating his subordinates about his personal life. 

---

Cassandra had trouble falling asleep and only drifted off around five in the morning. But she hadn’t been asleep long when a knock at the door woke her. 

In the Bell Family household, Cassandra’s schedule was rigidly controlled. She was expected to wake at six, eat breakfast at six-thirty, and start her lessons—piano, etiquette, or otherwise—by seven. Even during holidays, the routine allowed only an hour of extra sleep. 

Cassandra groaned, pulling the covers over her head. 

“What time do you think it is? So lazy. How are you supposed to survive marriage without being scolded every day?” Rachel’s sharp voice pierced through the door. 

Grace, who had been up early preparing breakfast for the family, hurried upstairs at the sound of her mother-in-law’s complaints. 

“Mom, Cassandra just got back yesterday. She must be exhausted. Let her rest a little longer,” Grace pleaded gently. 

Rachel glared at Grace. “Exhausted from what? When she marries into a noble family, she’ll have stricter rules to follow. She’s only like this because you’ve spoiled her!” 

Grace sighed silently. 

“And you,” Rachel continued, “why don’t you help Charles more? He works all day, and you just sit around at home doing nothing. Can’t you see how idle you are?” 

Rachel’s incessant scolding echoed through the house, and despite her exhaustion, Cassandra knew she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. She sat up, rubbing her dry, swollen eyes. 

---

After a quick wash, Cassandra changed into a proper outfit and opened the door. The light in her eyes seemed to dim as she stepped out. She just wanted peace, quiet, and solitude—free from criticism, socializing, or endless lessons. 

Rachel took one look at her and snapped, “How many times have I told you not to stay up late on your phone? Now you’ve got dark circles. Are you planning to go to tonight’s banquet looking like this and embarrass the Bell Family?” 

“Then I just won’t go,” Cassandra replied, her voice tinged with irritation. 

Rachel raised a hand to strike her, but Grace quickly intercepted, her own hand taking the blow instead. A red mark immediately appeared on Grace’s skin. 

“Mom, Cassandra just woke up. She’s still groggy. Please don’t take her words to heart,” Grace said softly, casting a reassuring glance at her daughter. 

Taking a deep breath, Cassandra lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Grandma. I wasn’t fully awake and didn’t think before speaking. I’ll go to my lessons now.” 

Rachel huffed, her face darkening. “Ungrateful child. Once she’s married, we’ll finally be rid of her and that useless mother of hers.” 

Cassandra’s eyes reddened, her voice shaky with suppressed emotion. “Mom, once I graduate and start working, I’ll take you away from here.” 

Grace gently stroked Cassandra’s hair. “Alright, I’ll wait for that day.” 

---

Later that evening, Cassandra dressed for the banquet in a custom black gown. The conservative design reflected her youth while maintaining a touch of elegance. 

At the entrance of The Grand Royale Hotel, she noticed a commotion outside but didn’t pay much attention. After all, her father didn’t command that kind of attention. She quietly made her way inside and sat in an inconspicuous corner, hoping the night would end quickly. 

Meanwhile, outside, Lorenzo stepped out of his car. The crowd surged around him as CEOs and socialites vied for his attention. 

Lorenzo acknowledged them with a faint smile but remained detached. He wasn’t interested in mingling with these people—none of them were useful to him. 

---

Cassandra’s heart skipped a beat as Lorenzo entered the hall. He was impossible to miss—tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding an air of authority in his tailored black suit. Their eyes met briefly, and she froze. Her palms grew clammy as panic set in. 

What was he doing here? Of all places! 

Lorenzo noticed her, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. Why was she avoiding him? He hadn’t done anything to warrant that reaction—yet. 

Cassandra stood abruptly and hurried toward the restroom, her mind racing. As she entered, she pulled out her phone and found the blocked number from yesterday. Hesitating, she began typing a message. 

“Mr. White, can you pretend you don’t know me?” 

Deleting it, she typed another, then another, before erasing them all. 

---

Lorenzo excused himself from the crowd and followed her toward the restroom. 

As Cassandra exited, they collided head-on. 

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow and smirked. “What, no greeting for your savior?” 

Caught off guard, Cassandra stammered, “Y-you’re not exactly… uh, unsatisfied—no, I mean… Mr. White, hello.” 

Lorenzo laughed, his deep voice resonating in the hallway. Leaning down, he teased, “Not unsatisfied, huh? I suppose it was worth it. But tell me, why are you running from me?” 

The low timbre of his voice and his teasing words sent shivers down Cassandra’s spine. She instinctively stepped back, her heart pounding uncontrollably.