5: Mr. White, How Can You Be So Mean? 

Cassandra leaned against the cold, black-and-white marble wall. Her curled lashes trembled as a wave of fear washed over her. She clutched her gown tightly, her clear eyes misting over with unease. 

Even with the soothing music playing in the background, the sound of her pounding heartbeat felt deafening, echoing painfully in her ears. Lorenzo’s towering figure loomed over her, completely blocking her escape. Her cheeks flushed as she avoided his gaze, staring off to the side in a futile attempt to collect herself. 

Lorenzo had her caged, one hand braced against the wall beside her. His voice was low and deliberate, sending shivers down her spine. “I need to talk to you. When the banquet’s over, come upstairs. I’ll be waiting in my suite.” As he spoke, he held out a sleek hotel room keycard. 

Cassandra nodded hesitantly, already planning her escape. Once the banquet ended, she would leave immediately—there was no way she’d go upstairs. What could he possibly want to discuss? 

Lorenzo’s presence was like a storm cloud hanging over her, his intensity pressing against every nerve in her body. 

Seeing the flush deepen on Cassandra’s face and her uneven breathing, Lorenzo straightened, his dark eyes softening slightly. He brushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear with his slender fingers. “As my lover, shouldn’t you be excited to see me?” 

His touch burned against her skin, leaving her more flustered than ever. Cassandra raised her wide, startled eyes to him. Lover? When had she agreed to that? Unless… a one-night stand counted as a relationship. 

“Mr. White, don’t tease me,” she stammered, her voice trembling. Her eyes grew redder, and her lips pursed as though she were on the verge of tears. 

The word uncle was like a thorn in Lorenzo’s side. They’d already done what they’d done, yet she insisted on calling him that. 

---

The sound of footsteps in the hallway made Cassandra stiffen. Her nerves were frayed, and guilt churned in her stomach. If someone saw them together, she didn’t know how she’d explain herself. 

“Give me a kiss, and I’ll let you go,” Lorenzo said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned closer. 

Flustered, Cassandra’s anxiety turned to anger. She raised her knee sharply, her eyes flashing. “No! What happened before was unavoidable. Now you’re just being a bully!” 

Before Lorenzo could react, she ducked under his arm and bolted, leaving him doubled over in pain. 

---

Clenching his teeth, Lorenzo braced himself against the marble wall, veins bulging on the back of his hand as he suppressed the ache. 

Two young women walked by, chatting and laughing. They exchanged glances with Lorenzo, their curiosity piqued. 

---

Cassandra returned to her inconspicuous corner and sat down, gripping a glass of juice. She couldn’t drink champagne, so this was her only option. The lively atmosphere of the banquet, filled with laughter and mingling, felt stifling and fake. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when Charles entered the banquet hall with a woman on his arm. The woman wore a stunning white designer gown and smiled charmingly as she greeted guests. 

Cassandra’s fingers tightened around her glass. She recognized the woman as her father’s secretary, Serena. But why was a mere secretary attending such an event? And wearing an expensive gown her own mother could never afford? 

Charles spotted Cassandra sitting idly and scowled. He’d told her to attend and make connections, not sit there like a wallflower. Just like her mother, he thought bitterly. 

Taking a deep breath, Cassandra approached them. “Dad. Serena.” 

Serena clung to Charles’s arm, her voice suddenly sweet and coy. “Charles, Cassandra’s getting prettier by the day.” 

Cassandra’s gaze hardened. “Thank you, Serena. But please, call me Miss Bell.” Her eyes turned to Charles, her tone calm but pointed. “Father, bringing a secretary to an event like this… Grandma wouldn’t be happy to hear about it.” 

Charles’s face darkened. “Is that how your teachers taught you to behave?” 

“They taught me about respect and propriety,” Cassandra replied with a faint smirk, her expression radiating disdain. 

Charles was stunned. His usually obedient daughter had grown a sharp edge. Yet, with so many people watching, he couldn’t lose face. “We’ll discuss this at home,” he growled through gritted teeth. 

Knowing she’d face punishment later, Cassandra held her ground. “In that case, I’ll excuse myself. No need to stay and feel nauseated.” 

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the hall, leaving Charles fuming. 

---

Outside, Cassandra climbed into the family car. She didn’t want to go home, unsure of how to explain things to her mother. Tears streamed down her face as the car pulled away. Her anger and frustration boiled over. 

Why couldn’t Mom just leave? They could survive on simple jobs, free from the Bell Family’s cruelty. Why did her mother endure so much, clinging to this life of oppression? 

Her hatred extended to her grandmother and uncle, who treated her mother’s suffering as a matter of course. They were complicit in Grace’s pain, adding fuel to the fire instead of helping her escape it. 

Cassandra wiped her tears, feeling helpless and angry at herself. But what could she do? She was barely a college freshman. 

---

Back at the banquet, Charles fumed in silence. Serena, sensing his mood, leaned in soothingly. “Don’t be upset. Cassandra’s still young. She doesn’t understand the situation between you and Grace.” 

Charles’s expression softened slightly, though his frustration lingered. If it weren’t for Grace, he wouldn’t have had to watch the love of his life slip away. 

---

Meanwhile, Lorenzo, standing in the smoking area, noticed Cassandra’s teary departure through the glass wall. She looked utterly defeated. 

He wasn’t fond of these banquets. The sycophantic smiles and false compliments grated on his nerves. But watching Cassandra leave like that, he felt a twinge of guilt. 

---

By the end of the night, Lorenzo had learned much about Cassandra from Charles. The way Charles spoke about his daughter—more as a product to be sold than as a beloved child—left a sour taste in Lorenzo’s mouth. 

“If my daughter misbehaves, you’re welcome to discipline her as you see fit. I won’t interfere,” Charles said, slurring slightly from the wine. 

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. What kind of father openly gave others permission to punish his daughter? 

---

Lorenzo leaned in close to Charles. His voice was cold and unyielding. “Next week’s gathering? Bring your wife. Not your secretary.” 

Serena’s face turned pale, her embarrassment barely concealed as she excused herself. The murmurs of disapproval from onlookers were impossible to miss. 

Charles nodded stiffly, trying to maintain his composure. 

---

Later that night, Cassandra returned home, told her grandmother that Charles had sent her back early, and went straight to her room. Grace didn’t ask questions, instead quietly urging her to rest. 

Lying on her bed, Cassandra kicked her legs idly. She knew tomorrow would bring punishment, but that was a problem for another day. 

What she didn’t know was that her decision to leave the banquet early would set into motion events she couldn’t control. If she had known, she might have run back to Lorenzo without hesitation.