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His words hit me, both warming and unsettling. I wasn't sure I could live up to that, wasn't sure I could fill the void she'd left.

"But I'm not her," I said quietly, as much for him as for myself.

"No, you're not," he said, squeezing my hand. "You're Cassie. My P??????. One of a kind."

That assurance wrapped around me like a blanket, giving me a security I hadn't known I needed. I didn't have to be his lost love—I just had to be me.

"Daddy! Miss Monroe! Come look!" Anya's voice rang out, breaking the moment. She ran toward us, clutching a wildflower, her cheeks flushed from running. "I'm giving this to Miss Monroe!" she said, shoving the flower into my hand. "So you know I love you!"

Her pure, unfiltered love brought tears to my eyes. I scooped her up, hugging her tight. "I love you, too, little angel."

Gennady watched us, his eyes so full of tenderness it nearly spilled over. In that moment, we felt like a real family—bound by love, warmth, and the promise of protecting each other.

I knew it might not last, that our world was fragile. But right then, I let myself believe it could be forever.

Chapter 15

Cassie

Lately, things had been too quiet.

I wasn't sure when it started, but the days in the estate felt… empty. I sat on the window seat in my room, staring out at the endless stretch of woods beyond the grounds, a weird restlessness gnawing at me. Two months ago, I was scraping by, stressing over rent and Mom's medical bills, practicing my violin in secret, dreaming of a stage I'd probably never see. Life was tough, but I knew who I was, what I was fighting for.

Now? I wasn't so sure.

Every day was the same. Wake up, head downstairs for breakfast, play with Anya for a bit, and then… nothing. Just waiting. For what, I didn't even know.

Gennady had been swamped lately. He'd give me a quick kiss at breakfast, then vanish into his study, his phone buzzing nonstop. At dinner, he'd show up sometimes, but his mind was always somewhere else, his green eyes distant, like he was wrestling with something big.

"Sorry, ??? ???????," he'd said last night, his hand brushing my cheek. "Got some things to handle. It'll be over soon."

Over soon. He kept saying that, but when was "soon"? I didn't know what he was dealing with, didn't know if I could help. I felt like an outsider, just sitting pretty in this gorgeous estate, waiting for… what? His attention? His world to let me in?

What was I to him? His girlfriend? Anya's teacher? Or just some shiny ornament he'd get tired of eventually? The thoughts swirled in my head, heavy and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.

Anya was acting weird, too. She'd play with me for a bit, then suddenly bolt to find her dad, leaving me alone in the sprawling living room. Sometimes I'd hear them whispering in his study, but the second I got close, they'd go quiet.

Was I doing something wrong? Like I'd barged into their perfect little world and messed it up?

My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my spiral. It was Mom.

"Hey, sweetheart, how you holding up?" Her voice was warm, instantly easing the knot in my chest.

"I'm good, Mom," I said, trying to sound convincing.

"Bullshit," she shot back, no-nonsense as always. "You sound off, all stuffy and mopey. Don't tell me it's a cold—Cassie Monroe, I birthed you, and I know when you're lying. Your voice gets tighter than a violin string. Spill. What's wrong?"

She knew me too well.

I hesitated, then sighed. "It's nothing big, Mom. I just… feel kinda lost."

"Oh, honey," she said, her tone softening with concern. "Sounds like boy trouble. Am I right?"

"Mom," I groaned, half-exasperated, half-amused.

"Come on, Cassie," she teased, chuckling. "You think your old lady's clueless? You're twenty-four, having a boyfriend's normal. Tell me about him."

"His name's Gennady," I said, my voice wavering.