Chapter 311: [4.129] I’m Not Waiting Two Weeks

"There are like twelve silk screens with cherry blossoms."

"Then we check all of them."

They walked in silence for a moment. The manor was quiet around them, the usual sounds of the household muted by distance. Mrs. Tanaka had probably retreated to the staff quarters to lick her wounds and plot her next report to Camille. The rest of the servants would be going about their duties, unaware of the revolution brewing in the family they served.

Isaiah spoke first. "Your mother forged your father’s will."

It wasn’t a question.

"Looks like it," Cassidy said.

"That’s fraud. Inheritance fraud. A federal crime."

"I’m aware."

"If you can prove it—"

"That’s what we’re trying to do."

Isaiah fell silent again. Cassidy could practically hear him thinking, his mind working through implications and consequences the same way Vivienne’s would. He was smart, she had to give him that. Smarter than most people realized. Smarter than she’d wanted to admit when he first showed up with his lazy attitude and his too-pretty face.

"Your mother moved the meeting up," he said. "Before she knew about the letter."

"Yeah."

"Which means she was already planning something. The letter just accelerated her timeline."

Cassidy stopped walking.

She turned to face Isaiah, her eyes narrowing as she processed what he was saying. He was right. Of course he was right. Camille Valentine didn’t do anything without a reason. Moving the meeting from Thursday to Wednesday wasn’t about convenience or scheduling. It was about control. About catching Isaiah off-guard before he could prepare.

About taking him away from them before they could stop her.

"She was going to destroy you," Cassidy said. "At the meeting. Whatever she was planning, it was going to be bad enough that she wanted it done quickly. Before any of us could interfere."

Isaiah’s expression didn’t change. "Probably."

"And you were going to go anyway."

"Yes."

"Even knowing she was setting a trap."

"Yes."

Cassidy stared at him.

She had known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that Isaiah was different from the other boys she’d brought into her orbit. The ones who wanted her body or her money or the thrill of dating a Valentine. Isaiah had never wanted any of that. He showed up because he said he would. He stayed because he chose to. He put himself in danger for her sisters, for her family, for a group of girls who had spent months treating him like a puzzle to be solved rather than a person to be loved.

"Why?" she asked.

The word came out smaller than she intended. Softer. Less like Cassidy the aggressive fighter and more like Cassidy the broken girl who had never understood why anyone would stay.

Isaiah looked at her for a long moment.

Then he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. His fingers were gentle against her cheek, warm and calloused from years of work and survival.

"Because you’re worth it," he said. "All of you. Even the parts that try to push me away."

Cassidy’s throat tightened.

She wanted to say something. Wanted to respond with a joke or a threat or something that would break the tension building in her chest. But the words wouldn’t come. For once in her life, Cassidy Valentine had nothing to say.

So she did something else instead.

She grabbed the front of Isaiah’s uniform and pulled him down to her level.

And she kissed him.

It wasn’t like Sabrina’s kisses, all careful patience and controlled passion. It wasn’t like whatever Harlow’s turn would bring, gentle and sweet and full of sunshine. Cassidy kissed Isaiah the way she did everything else. Hard and fast and desperate, pouring years of anger and fear and loneliness into the press of her lips against his.

He responded immediately. His hand came up to cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer. His other arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her, anchoring her. He kissed her back with a hunger that matched her own, meeting her intensity instead of backing down from it.

She bit his lip. He made a sound that went straight through her.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard. Harlow stood a few feet away, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed, looking like she’d just watched something she wasn’t supposed to see.

"Um," Harlow said.

Cassidy didn’t let go of Isaiah’s uniform.

"I’m not waiting two weeks," she said. Her voice was rough, scraped raw by the kiss and the emotions behind it. "Whatever happens with Mother, whatever happens with the letter, whatever happens tomorrow. I’m not waiting."

Isaiah’s dark eyes met hers.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Cassidy released his uniform. Stepped back. Tried to remember how to be the aggressive, confident girl everyone expected her to be.

It was harder than usual.

"The Japanese wing," she said, turning back toward the corridor. "Third door on the left. Cherry blossom screen."

She started walking again.

Isaiah fell into step beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed with every step. Harlow followed behind them, still slightly dazed, her twin tails swinging as she moved.

They found the screen five minutes later.

It was exactly where Sabrina had described it, a tall panel of painted silk showing cherry blossoms falling against a mountainside. Beautiful and delicate and completely ordinary looking. Nothing to suggest that it hid anything more than wall.

Cassidy pulled Sabrina’s key from her pocket.

The key was old. Tarnished bronze with an intricate design carved into the handle. It looked like something from a museum, something that belonged in a display case rather than in the lock of a secret door.

She pushed the screen aside.

Behind it was a door.

Plain wood, unvarnished, with a single keyhole set into the center. No handle. No lock visible from the outside. Just that small hole, waiting.

Cassidy inserted the key.

It turned with a click that echoed through the corridor.

The door swung open.

Beyond it was darkness. Deep and complete, untouched by the light from the hallway. Cassidy could smell dust and old paper and something else underneath. Something floral. Jasmine, maybe. Her father’s favorite.

"Together," she said.

And stepped inside.