Part 2Rewriting Fate I’ll Never Love You Again

Isadora’s POV

His body went rigid. So did mine.

But his lips were soft. Shockingly soft. And for a second, neither of us moved.

And then… I didn’t want to move.

Cassian is probably screwing Alessia right now, I reminded myself. So why couldn’t I have a little fun of my own?

My arms slid around the stranger’s neck as if they belonged there. His hesitation dissolved like smoke, and then he was kissing me back—fierce, hungry, like he wanted to devour every last piece of me.

I didn’t even realize he’d lifted me until I felt my legs swinging in the air. His lips never left mine as he carried me out—toward his car, I assumed. His breath brushed against my ear, deep and dangerous.

“Don’t regret this tomorrow, Isadora,” he murmured. “You chose to mess with me this time.”

Even through the liquor haze, I knew we were headed for something intense. Something I couldn’t undo.

That night was a blur of heat and tangled sheets.

He was built like sin—hard muscle, commanding hands, a mouth that ruined me in the best possible way.

We didn’t stop. Not until I was too exhausted to breathe, let alone move.

…

I woke up in a hotel room the next morning, my head pounding and mouth dry. The curtains were drawn tight, casting the whole place in shadows.

I slipped out of bed carefully, pulling my torn dress back over my sore body. I hadn’t even seen his face clearly.

Didn’t want to. This would be just a one night stand, that’s all.

I just needed to get out.

By the time I flagged down a cab, I finally caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror.

My dress was wrecked. And my neck was a battlefield of bruised lips and bite marks.

Perfect.

I needed to get home and scrub the evidence off before my father, mother, or Damian saw me like this.

But as I reached the front door, a familiar voice echoed down the hallway.

“Where have you been all night, Izzy?”

I froze. Shit. Cassian.

Only my brother called me Izzy. Cassian used to, once, when I liked him too much to allow him to call me like that.

Now it just made my skin crawl.

He leaned against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, casual as hell. His gaze slid over me—and then locked on my neck.

“Just stayed at a friend’s house,” I replied coolly, stepping past him.

“Don’t lie, Izzy,” he said, eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t lie.” I could feel my patience cracking.

Weren’t he and Alessia busy last night? Shouldn’t he be basking in the afterglow or whatever the hell people did after reuniting with their true love?

But then I noticed that he had marks too. Faint, but unmistakable.

And he had the audacity to question me?

“I spent my birthday with friends,” I said, flashing him a sharp smile. “And you don’t get to interrogate me, Cassian. You’re my brother’s friend. Not my keeper.”

I glanced behind him. “Where’s Alessia? She didn’t spend the night with you?”

His jaw tightened. “I asked you a question, Isadora. Where were you last night? And where the hell did you get those?”

He nodded to my neck, his expression unreadable—but something burned in his gaze.

I lifted my hand, trying to hide the marks. “Allergic reaction.”

Cassian laughed—cold, cruel. “You really expect me to believe that? Don’t play dumb. I know what you and Damian were planning. Get me drunk. Shove me into your room. Hope something happens.”

I stared at him. “Cassian—”

“You wanted a night with me, and when that didn’t work, you ran off and found some random guy to finish the job?” His voice dropped, dripping with disgust. “I thought you were better than that, Isadora.”

My hands balled into fists. “Stop it. You are being very rude now.”

But he didn’t. He stepped in closer, voice a low, dangerous whisper. “Or what? Didn’t you want me to care? Is that why you brought Alessia in last night—hoping I’d realize something once you were gone?”

I blinked at him, stunned.

Then it hit me.

Cassian still thought I was that desperate girl who liked him—so every move I made last night must’ve looked like another trick. Another trap.

Maybe he thought I'd orchestrated it all to make him feel guilty for being with Alessia. That I'd hoped guilt would make him fall for me.

So that’s why he mocked me the second I walked through the front door. He didn’t see me as heartbroken. He saw me as manipulative.

Something inside me still cracked. It was a tiny, aching sorrow—because Cassian genuinely believed I was capable of scheming him into love.

In every lifetime, it seemed, he thought so little of me.

Cassian’s voice turned colder, slicing into my thoughts. “As you wished, I slept with Alessia. We’re a couple now. Officially. I might even marry her.”

I forced a smile, calm and bright. “That’s great. Congratulations.”

His jaw flexed like he didn’t expect me to say that.

“So whatever game you think you’re playing,” he said, stepping in close, “stop. Don’t interfere in my relationship with her.”

“As you wish,” I said, mirroring his words, my voice syrupy sweet.

I turned to head back to my room. But just before I stepped inside, I looked over my shoulder and added, “By the way… I don’t like you anymore. So stop flattering yourself. I’m not interested in your attention, Cassian. I’m done playing.”

“You—”

I shut the door on his voice, sealing the moment with finality.

Perfect. Everything had gone according to plan.

Cassian got what he wanted—Alessia. And now he had no reason to blame me, no grudges to hold.

We were clean.

As long as I stayed away from him, I could finally live my life in peace.

…

A loud thud echoed down the hallway.

I opened the door just in time to hear my brother’s voice rising in fury.

“Why the hell is Alessia here?” Damian growled, standing outside the guest room. “And you? You slept with her? In my guest room?”

Cassian leaned against the wall, arms folded, expression cool. “Why so shocked? Who else would I be sleeping with? Your sister?”

“That’s not what I meant, asshole.”

“I was drunk,” Cassian said lazily. “Alessia just… took care of me.”

That’s when Damian noticed me hovering in the doorway, pale and silent.

He frowned, confused. “Izzy—?”

“I’m not feeling well,” I blurted, retreating to my room like it burned.

God. That was awkward.