I Don't Love You Like I Did Yesterday

I had once believed that after all these years by his side, he had finally let go of Sloane. That he had moved forward, freed his heart from the past and was ready to accept me. But standing here now, watching the two of them together, it felt as if someone had taken a whip to my heart, leaving it in tatters. Maybe my silence stretched on for too long, because Cassian’s eyes darkened, wary of upsetting Sloane. His sharp voice sliced through the air. “Liv, Sloane is speaking to you. Where are your manners? Did we teach you nothing about respect? Don’t embarrass me.” A lump formed in my throat. Just as I was about to respond, Sloane let out a small, affected sigh and reached into her designer bag. She pulled out a hair tie and placed it in my palm with an easy smile. “Cassian, don’t be too hard on her,” she interrupted sweetly before I could speak. “It was my fault. I asked when it wasn’t my turn to speak.” Then, as if bestowing me with some grand gesture of kindness, she shrugged and added, “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you a gift. This is my first time here.” She held up the hair tie with a faint smile. “It’s a freebie from the lingerie Cassian bought me. I figured it’d be enough for now. Oh, don’t worry—it’s from an expensive brand.” Her words landed like a slap, but before I could react, she had already turned away, stretching her arms with a sleepy sigh. She stifled a yawn, utterly indifferent to my presence. “Cassian, I’m tired. Take me upstairs, won’t you?” Cassian immediately pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead with a tenderness that made my stomach churn. “Of course, baby. Sorry for keeping you out in the cold. Let’s get inside.” As they headed up the stairs, Cassian suddenly paused, turning his head back, his expression indifferent. They climbed together, his arm still resting around her waist. Just as they reached the landing, he glanced at me, as if I were an afterthought. “Oh, Liv, Sloane likes her warm milk exactly at 108 degrees. Don’t mess it up.” For a moment, I couldn’t move. He was wearing the scarf I had bought him before he left for his trip. The same scarf he had used to blindfold me on the last night we spent together. “Be good for me, Pixie. Just hold it a little longer. Once I close the deal with the Kensingtons, I’ll talk to my Mom and Dad about our engagement.” My grandmother had worked as a housekeeper for the Montclair Family her entire life. After my parents died in a car accident, she had taken me in, raising me within the Montclair estate. She had always carried herself with quiet dignity, teaching me to be grateful for the roof over my head. As a child, I had watched Mrs. Montclair educate Cassian with careful discipline, shaping him into the perfect heir. I had envied him. I had longed for even a fraction of that parental guidance. Once, I had run away from the estate to visit my parents’ graves. It had been the dead of winter and the frozen lake near the cemetery was covered in a deceptive layer of ice. I hadn’t noticed—until I fell through. Cassian had jumped in after me without a second thought, pushing me to safety while he himself nearly drowned in the freezing water. The jagged ice had cut into his thumb, leaving a scar that never completely faded. Back then, I hadn’t understood the full weight of his actions. The Montclairs had a strict rule—no heir was allowed to engage in reckless or dangerous behavior. When Cassian returned home that night, he was beaten within an inch of his life for breaking that rule. But he had never once apologized. “Saving her wasn’t a mistake,” he had said, his young voice steady despite the welts on his back. The punishments had only stopped when my grandmother knelt before the Montclairs and begged for their forgiveness. Cassian had always been the golden child, the one who had everything. And yet, despite it all, he had chosen to protect me. Even after my grandmother passed away, the Montclairs had continued to provide for me. But I never let myself forget the divide between us—the unspoken boundary that could never be crossed. So when the boy I had admired for years—the boy who had once risked his life to save me—came to me that night, promising forever, how could I not believe him? How could I not hope? But that promise had barely lasted a week before it was shattered.

“Cassian.” Sloane’s airy voice pulled me back to the present. “I left my new lingerie in the car. Can you have Livia bring it up for me?” She let out a dramatic sigh before quickly adding, “Oh, never mind! I’ll go get it myself. What was I thinking? She’s not a maid.” Cassian smirked, giving me a knowing look before turning back to her. Cassian smirked, giving me a knowing look before turning back to her. “No, it’s fine."It’s fine. Liv will get it for you,” Cassian said smoothly, his gaze flicking to me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. He turned and descended the stairs, subtly motioning for me to follow. Confused, I hesitated before trailing after him. He led me into the dimly lit space beneath the grand staircase, where the shadows swallowed us whole. I hadn’t even realized I was crying until he reached out to touch my face. His fingertips lingered just beneath my eyes, catching the stray tears before they could fall further. He hesitated, then pressed his thumb gently to my cheek, wiping away the evidence of my heartbreak. “Why?” My voice wavered as I forced myself to meet his gaze, desperate for an answer, a reason—anything to make sense of this. His thumb ghosted over my skin, his voice low and smooth, almost hypnotic. “You know you’re the one I trust the most, Pixie.” I flinched at the nickname, once a term of endearment, now feeling like a cruel mockery. “Sloane helped me secure the Kensington deal,” he continued, his tone frustratingly patient. “I sent the staff home, so I need you here. If my parents show up, I need you to cover for me. Just for a few days. Can you do that?” There it was. The role I was destined to play in his life—his most trusted, but never his most loved. Above us, Sloane moved about freely in the master bedroom—the one place I had never been allowed to step foot in. And yet, Cassian and I had shared our first time right here, in the shadows beneath the staircase. Not in his bed, not in a place of love, but in secrecy, where no one could see. Like the difference between a carefully chosen possession and a mere afterthought. I had once been naive enough to believe that I was the former. When I first came to the Montclair estate as a child, I was a mess—unpolished, grieving and completely out of place. The other children mocked me, calling me Cassian’s little charity case, his unwanted shadow. But he had fought for me, stood by me, forced them to acknowledge me as his equal, or at least sister. Then Sloane had left for Europe and he had convinced his mother to mold me into something refined, something worthy. For him, I had learned, changed, adapted. And yet, tonight, Sloane had so easily dismissed me as just another servant in this house—and he hadn’t corrected her. He had let me drown in humiliation, without a word. Cassian had pulled me from the mud, only to shove me back into it when it was convenient. The dream I had held onto for so long—it had been nothing but an illusion. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to speak. “Yeah. I get it.” His eyes flickered with something unreadable, but I didn’t wait for a response. I pulled away from his grasp and turned, leaving him standing in the darkness. The next afternoon, Cassian called for me. “Come upstairs and clean the room.” I hesitated at the threshold of the master bedroom. For years, I had wondered what lay beyond this door, longing to step inside. Now that I finally had permission, I found myself paralyzed, afraid of what I would see. Summoning my courage, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. My stomach lurched. The walls were adorned with massive portraits of Sloane, each one capturing her in different moments of her youth. She was everywhere—laughing, gazing wistfully into the distance, lips parted in an unspoken promise. It was a shrine to her, a museum dedicated to the only woman Cassian had ever truly loved. “Excessive, isn’t it?” Sloane’s voice rang out behind me, laced with amusement. I turned to see her lounging against the doorframe, her satin robe slipping off one shoulder, revealing smooth, bare skin. She was the picture of effortless beauty, every inch of her exuding confidence. She let out a soft laugh, her fingers toying with the edge of her robe. “I used to look so awful and yet he went ahead and blew up my face on these giant canvases. What a weirdo.” Before I could respond, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Cassian pulled her close, his fingers brushing her skin with practiced ease. “You looked perfect, Sloane,” he murmured, lips skimming the curve of her neck. “You always do. Especially last night, when you have nothing on you.” “Cassian!” She giggled, swatting at his chest. “Not in front of Livia.” He barely spared me a glance, but his lips curled at the edges as if he found the entire situation amusing. “She should get used to it.” Then, without hesitation, he turned her in his arms and kissed her—slow, deep and possessive. I stood there, numb, watching as the man who had once whispered promises in my ear tangled himself with another woman right in front of me. When they finally pulled apart, Cassian’s gaze flicked to mine, his expression unreadable.

“She should start getting used to this. Once the project is secured and we’re married, she’ll be moving in with us.” Cassian’s words cut into me like a blade, each syllable sharper than the last. He had once promised he would only propose if he secured the project—pleading with Mrs. Montclair to approve our marriage. Now, that promise had become the bargaining chip for his engagement to Sloane. Even if he no longer wanted me, he shouldn’t have placed me in such a humiliating position, expecting me to simply stand by and accept their intimacy as if it were normal. My nails dug deep into my palms. Fighting against the sharp sting, I forced myself to clean up before I completely lost control. Their discarded clothes were strewn across the floor. Sloane’s lace lingerie dangled from the bedpost, a shameless reminder of what it had been used for last night. Handprints smeared the floor-to-ceiling windows. The bathroom vanity was a disaster. Used condoms were tossed around carelessly. Filthy. They were filthy. And after being with Cassian, so was I. I watched them kiss on the balcony as if I weren’t even there, suppressing the bile rising in my throat before fleeing the room. I thought living like this would break me. But as the days dragged on, my pain and disgust dulled into numbness. Eventually, I could even listen to their moans without flinching as I brought them their meals. For seven days, I waited on Cassian. Seven days later, he finally saw Sloane off, reluctant to let her go. Before she left, she cast me a knowing smile. “Poor thing, you must be exhausted listening to all those sounds we were making,” she mused, her voice dripping with condescension. “Don’t worry, though—I’ve told Cassian to add a little bonus to your paycheck.” By the time Cassian returned, night had already fallen. I lay in bed, dazed and drained, as if I had barely survived some catastrophic ordeal. Somewhere between wakefulness and exhaustion, the mattress suddenly dipped beside me.Before I could react, strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me into a firm embrace. His hot breath fanned against the back of my neck. “My sweet little Pixie, once I marry Sloane—I’ll make it up to you with a wedding of your own, okay?” “You’ve been a good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. “Makes me want to keep you hidden away… from the world. Where no one else can see you. I want to keep you just for myself.” I jolted awake, my body stiffening. With all the strength I could muster, I shoved him away. “Get out!” Cassian leaned back against the headboard, watching me with an amused smirk. “Are you mad?” His gaze was taunting, as if he were toying with a petulant child. So different from the way he was with Sloane—gentle, careful, utterly devoted. It reminded me that even in bed, he treated her with infinite patience and indulgence. But with me? He was rough, demanding, taking what he wanted without restraint. He used to say I made him lose control. Now, I understood—he simply never cared enough to be gentle with me. When I didn’t respond, his lips curled into something between amusement and mockery. His voice was deceptively soft. “Come on, I’m doing this for us. You know me. The harder something is to get, the more I want it. And now that I finally get her… she doesn’t feel like matter anymore.” His tone was almost nonchalant, as if Sloane had already served her purpose. “You know our family has strict rules. Your background will always be a disadvantage—it will wear you down eventually. So why don’t we just keep things the way they are?” “Sloane can be a little spoiled, but she has her own social circle. As long as you stay obedient and accommodating, she’ll tolerate your presence. And of course, I won’t let you miserable.” His gaze darkened, something predatory lurking beneath the surface. “I’ll make sure you’re compensated. Whenever you want…I’ll try my best to satisfy you.” My whole body trembled. Each word sent a fresh wave of disgust and fury through me. And then, without thinking, I slapped him—hard. “You bastard!”

“What do you take me for?!” My chest heaved. “You promised you’d marry me.” The weight of humiliation and heartbreak came crashing down all at once. The betrayal, the broken promises—it was too much. A sob tore through my chest as I clutched at my hair, yanking at the strands in a desperate attempt to ground myself. My voice rose into a scream, raw and unrestrained. Cassian hadn't moved since I slapped him. He stood there, stunned, as if he'd never expected me to break. But the shock faded quickly, replaced by something darker. His expression hardened, and in an instant, his fingers clamped around my wrists, yanking my hands away from my hair. “Stop it! Who say you can you permission to hurt yourself?” he snapped, his breath hot against my skin. “You know this marriage is just business. Why don’t you get that?” My body trembled in his grip, my strength drained. The boy I had once worshiped—the one who had shielded me, promised me forever—was gone. In his place stood a man who had mastered the art of cruelty, wielding it like a blade against me. Cassian must have sensed my surrender because his hold loosened slightly. His voice softened, coaxing. “Alright, alright. I know you’ve been miserable the past few days.” He exhaled heavily, pressing his forehead against mine as if his touch could erase the damage he had inflicted. “You’ve always wanted to see the Aegean Sea. Let’s go to Greece after my engagement with Sloane. Or Turkey—Cappadocia, riding in a hot air balloon. Your pick. Just stop bringing this up, okay?” I turned my head away, closing my eyes against the sting of fresh tears. “Come on, Pixie,” he coaxed, his lips ghosting over my temple. “You’ve hit me, screamed at me—what more do you want? Stop being difficult, yeah?” Difficult. The word was laughable. My entire world had just shattered and he expected me to sit pretty and wait for scraps? To remain his backup plan while he played house with Sloane? When I still didn’t respond, Cassian clicked his tongue, his patience thinning. Then, as if struck with an idea, his fingers trailed lower, brushing down my spine, settling at my waist. His touch burned through the fabric of my dress. “I think I know why you’re so upset,” he murmured, amusement laced in his voice. “Watching me with Sloane must have been hard for you. Got you all worked up, didn’t it? You’re just frustrated because you can’t have it. I should’ve known. I should’ve taken care of you first.” His hand slipped under my shirt, fingers tracing down my spine. Disgust churned in my stomach, bile rising before I could stop it. I jerked away violently, gagging. “Get the hell away from me!” He recoiled, his jaw tightening as anger flashed across his face. Then, something more dangerous settled in his expression—offense. As if my reaction had insulted him. His fingers dug into my chin, forcing my gaze back to his. “You dare reject me?” The air between us grew suffocating. I could see the storm brewing in his eyes, his possessiveness boiling to the surface. “Did you forget who pulled you out of that freezing lake? You owe me your life, Livia.” I flinched at the way he said my name—like it was a claim, a brand burned into my skin. Cassian leaned in, his lips a breath away from mine. “I own you,” he murmured, deadly soft. “And unless you plan on paying me back with your life, you’ll do exactly as I say. Got it?” A chill spread through my veins. He was right–I knew him. I knew for a fact that he wasn’t just spitting empty threats. He was obsessive and domineering to his core, willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. He had endured years of patience and careful maneuvering just to force his parents into accepting Sloane. And now, he was doing the same to me—wearing me down, luring me into surrender with carefully laid traps. Cassian never lost. If he wanted something, he got it. That included the lucrative project the Kensington was about to secure—he could easily manipulate Sloane into helping him claim it, ensuring both business success and the woman he wanted. A man like that wouldn’t simply accept my rejection. I couldn’t afford to push him any further. So I swallowed my rage, pushed down my disgust and forced myself to give him the only answer that would keep me alive. I nodded. Even so, I recoiled from his touch, curling in on myself.

Cassian exhaled sharply, his anger fading into something colder. He released his grip on my jaw, his voice steady but firm. “You took things too far today. Take time to cool off. Don't let it happen again.” He stepped toward the door but paused just before closing it behind him. “Before I forgot,” he added. “The engagement is set. On the 10th of next month, Sloane and I will be officially engaged. My parents have agreed.” His next words were casual, almost indifferent. “So, behave yourself. Try not to upset Sloane.” Then he was gone. The door clicked shut, sealing me inside a silence so thick it felt suffocating. I bit my lip hard, willing myself not to break down. Not to cry. How did it come to this? The boy I had once worshiped like a God—how had he become this stranger? I had believed that after Sloane left, he had finally seen me. I thought he had wanted me. I thought all those years of Mrs. Montclair grooming me, refining me, had been in preparation for a future as his wife. But it had all been a lie. Cassian’s heart had never held a place for me. It had only ever belonged to Sloane. He had been born with everything: wealth, status, the best education. He was destined for business, but when it came time to choose a major, he had gone to art school. Because Sloane loved painting. I had followed a year later, enrolling in sculpture. I told myself it was my passion, that I had made the choice for myself, but deep down, I knew better. I just wanted to be closer to him. I still remembered the nights he’d take me for drives, the wind rushing past as he recklessly sped through the city. On those rare, unguarded nights, he had promised me— “One day, Pixie, I’ll paint you. I’ll make sure it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever created.” And I had promised him a sculpture in return. Over the years, I had filled his bedroom with my work. Tiny statues, detailed carvings—all silent testaments to the love I could never voice. And yet, he had never once painted me. He had told me, back when he first took over the family business, he was too exhausted to paint. He didn’t have the energy, the inspiration. That had been a lie too. Because the moment Sloane returned, Cassian had locked himself away in his private studio, painting her. Again and again. Larger than life, canvases filled with her face, her body, her presence. If those paintings were a slap in the face, then the past few days had been a blade through my heart. Sloane offering herself to him and Cassian taking her without hesitation. He had traced her body like she was the only muse he had ever known, while I—I was just the fool who had once believed in his empty words. I no longer cared who was right or wrong in this twisted arrangement. I simply couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to leave. But where? A sharp chime from my phone pulled me out of my thoughts. It was a notification from Mrs. Montclair’s private number. I hesitated before clicking it open. [Livia, I assume you've heard. Cassian is getting engaged.] [You’ve always known your place, but I also know that Cassian has feelings for you. And I refuse to let you become a stain on his future.] [We have taken care of you all these years. Despite everything, I have not been unkind.] [The Kensingtons took a major hit when Cassian snatched their deal. As a show of goodwill, they proposed a marriage alliance.] [As our adopted daughter, we are offering you in marriage to represent the Montclair Family. We raised you and provided for you. I hope you will take the role and accept it.] [But I’ll give you time think it through. Give me your answer ASAP] I stared at the screen, my breath catching in my throat. A laugh bubbled up from my throat—cold, bitter and utterly devoid of humor. So this was how it was.  And to think, I once believed that Mrs. Montclair had taken me under her wing out of kindness. I, a fresh college graduate—what did I do to deserve such an honor? That a woman of such high standing had lowered herself to teach a girl from the low background. Mrs. Montclair had never taken me in out of kindness. She had never trained me to be Cassian's future wife. I was a tool. A bargaining chip. A leash meant to keep Cassian in line until he was strong enough to take the world on his own. And now, with him at the top, I was nothing more than an inconvenience. A liability. All those years of devotion, of chasing after the ghost of a boy who never truly saw me—all for what? To be tossed aside like a used rag. The debt of my life, the so-called kindness of their care—both had become a knife hanging round my neck.  I had no choice. No place escape. No right to refuse.

I lay awake until morning, staring at the ceiling, feeling like a stranger in my own skin. As the first light of dawn seeped through my window, I reached for my phone and dialed Mrs. Montclair. “I’ll do it,” I said, my voice steady despite the hollow ache in my chest. “Just… with one condition,” I said, closing my eyes. “Don’t tell Cassian.” For years, I had never called him my brother—not once. Because deep down, I had held onto the foolish hope that one day, he would be mine. But now, with the future set before me, it was time to let go. Mrs. Montclair hesitated, then sighed. “I know this isn't fair to you,” she said. “But don’t worry, I will prepare a generous dowry for you. I won’t let the Kensingtons look down on you just because you’re adopted.” “From now on, you are a daughter of the Montclair.” I had spent the entire night convincing myself that this was the right choice. That walking away from Cassian was the only way to reclaim the last shreds of my dignity. Whatever promises she made, I no longer had faith in them. Still, I replied smoothly, “Thank you, Mother.” Mrs. Montclair knew Cassian better than anyone. She feared that if he found out about my marriage, he would cause trouble. So, she and the Kensingtons scheduled the wedding for the same day as Cassian’s engagement. That day, he would be in the spotlight, too busy to notice me. Marrying into the Kensington Family, to be the wife of a blind man... I only allowed myself a brief moment of regret before shaking it off. Who was I to be picky? If the other party wasn’t choosy, I had no right to be either. The days passed in silence. Cassian must have felt some guilt. He stayed away, never speaking to me, but he also made sure I was trapped inside the estate.  So I played my role. I stayed in my room. Silent. Obedient. Like a caged bird that had long accepted its fate, I barely stepped out of my room unless necessary. Two days before the wedding, gardeners arrived. They uprooted every last bougainvillea in the garden—the flowers I loved—and replaced them with white roses. Sloane’s favorite. Cassian must have feared I would lose control, so he let the guards take me out for a drive, hoping to distract me. When I returned, the estate where I had lived for over a decade no longer felt like home. Everything has changed.  Except for one thing. The tiny room under the staircase. The servants’ quarters where I had spent my childhood. Where my grandmother’s scent still lingered. Where I had learned how to tuck away my feelings, to bury every dream I had ever dared to have. I knew then—it was time to say goodbye. I packed slowly, carefully. The room was small, yet it held more memories than the grandest halls of this estate. After my grandmother passed away, Cassian had offered me to move upstairs, but I had refused. This was my last tie to my grandmother, to her warmth and the quiet comfort she had given me. Before she died, she had made me promise to protect myself. "Guard your heart." But I failed her. Still, she had always said that mistakes were meant to be learned from. That no matter how many times you fall, you have to keep moving forward. I opened a closet and found an old box tucked away in the corner. Inside were all the gifts Cassian had given me over the years. A token for every time he had wronged me. Trinkets from childhood—a tennis bracelet, a brooch, a set of hairpins. Then, as we grew older, his apologies became more extravagant—jewelry, designer bags, diamond necklaces. A full box. Overflowing. I let out a hollow laugh. He had hurt me so many times. One by one, I locked them inside the box and slid it under my bed. It could stay buried in this room, along with everything else that belonged to the past.  I had no need for it where I was going. I packed only the essentials—a few simple dresses and my grandmother’s in a small photo frame.  The night before the wedding, Cassian knocked on my door. When I didn’t respond, he walked in anyway, holding a box wrapped in silver ribbon. He told me to wear it for tomorrow. When I opened the box, a gown lay neatly folded inside.

He pulled me into his arms suddenly, as he always did—possessive, overwhelming, leaving me no room to resist. A long sigh of relief escaped him. “Don’t worry, Pixie,” he murmured against my hair. “Sloane will only be my wife in name. But you… you will always be in my heart. You’re the one I truly love.” “Tomorrow, just be good, alright?” His voice was laced with certainty, as if my compliance was already a given. “Stand beside me as my sister, witness my engagement to Sloane.” “In a week, we’ll go to Greece and have our real wedding. Just the two of us.” “After that, I’ll be yours. Only yours. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” His tone left no room for argument, as if he was certain I had already accepted my fate, already resigned myself to this twisted reality. But just moments ago, Sloane had sent me a video. In the video— Cassian and Sloane were entangled, their voices dripping with desire. “You’ve dated a few while you were abroad. Shouldn’t I be allowed one or two to make things fair? Livia, at least, is clean.” “What if she clings to you?” Sloane pouted. “Didn’t you see how she looked at us those few days? Like she was breaking apart. She’s clearly madly in love with you.” “She won’t,” Cassian replied without hesitation. “She has no family and craves love. Her best quality is that she’s obedient.” “I don’t care! You need to cut her off completely. If I ever catch you sneaking around with her, I’ll find myself someone better.” “You wouldn’t dare,” he chuckled before his voice dropped, sultry and smug. “Honestly, after trying her, she’s nothing special. No matter how much I tease her, she never fully go wild…always so restrain. But you, baby, you always surprise me.” Cassian had once told me, he always wanted what he couldn’t have, but once he got it, he lost interest. Back then, I had already suspected—if he could belittle Sloane in front of me, then surely, he could belittle me just as easily in front of her. And now, with the truth staring me in the face, all I felt was a strange sense of clarity. No heartbreak. No pain. Just the final piece of proof I needed to set myself free. I looked at the man in front of me, the one I had spent a lifetime loving. I looked at the boy who had once shone so brightly in my eyes. And then, I nodded. “Alright.” At four in the morning, I blocked every contact Cassian had ever used. Without waking anyone, I grabbed my small suitcase and left with the people sent by the Kensington Family. The place I had lived in for over a decade no longer felt familiar. Just like the person I had once loved, who now felt like a stranger. The heartbreak, the yearning, the love, the resentment—all of it had faded into nothing.