marked by midnight: the enemy's heiress-Chapter 39 : Punish me, my lady.

After the whole family was ready, they settled into the car, and Cassian drove off toward the business party.

Mira sat by the window, her gaze fixed deliberately on the city outside, refusing to look at him. Streetlights slid across the glass in long streaks of gold and white, their reflections blurring just enough to give her something distant, something safe, to focus on. The steady motion of the car grounded her more than she wanted to admit.

The kids filled the space with laughter, their voices overlapping as they argued about music, snacks, and what kind of desserts might be served at the party. Their excitement spilled freely through the car, unrestrained and warm. Cassian kept his eyes on the road, one hand steady on the wheel—yet every so often, he stole a glance at Mira. Brief. Careful. As if he were afraid she might catch him looking.

She didn’t.

Soon, the car slowed and pulled up to the venue.

The building rose tall and imposing, bathed in warm light. Glass and steel reflected quiet wealth, the kind that didn’t need to announce itself. Before Mira could react, Cassian reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers—firm, unhesitating—while the kids walked ahead on their own, already distracted by the grand entrance and the bustle around it.

"They think we’re a couple," he murmured close to her ear, his voice low. "So behave like one."

She didn’t pull away.

She didn’t tighten her grip either.

She simply let him hold her hand, her pulse betraying her far more than her expression did.

Cassian’s demeanor shifted the moment they stepped inside. His posture straightened, shoulders squaring instinctively. A short, polished smile settled onto his face as he acknowledged familiar figures, nodding to investors, executives, and people who clearly mattered in this world.

The venue wasn’t just a party.

It was a space where the wealthy disguised negotiations as casual conversation, where champagne flowed freely while deals were silently weighed. Every laugh carried intention. Every word was measured. Nothing here was accidental.

Mira took it all in quietly.

A few women approached her, offering warm but assessing smiles. She returned the politeness with ease, exchanging brief greetings and light conversation about work, travel, and harmless pleasantries. Her movements were composed, her tone calm—every bit the woman who belonged in a room like this.

Then her gaze shifted.

And she froze.

Across the room stood someone she hadn’t expected to see.

Someone from her past.

The smile on Mira’s lips didn’t falter—but her breath caught, just enough to betray her before she forced it steady again.

She had found her.

Memories surged uninvited, colliding all at once.

[Years ago—]

Mira once had a best friend.

Back in high school, Alicia had been her constant—the one person who knew her before ambition sharpened people and silence learned to speak louder than affection. They shared lunches in quiet corners, slipped into boutiques after school, compared notes over coffee-stained textbooks, and helped each other with assignments while trading secrets in hushed voices.

They were close in the way only young girls could be—unguarded, trusting, convinced that loyalty was permanent.

One day, Alicia confessed that she had a crush.

Edward. A boy from the same class.

She said his name carefully, eyes bright with hope, cheeks faintly flushed. Mira had smiled, teasing her gently whenever Edward appeared nearby—nudging Alicia with knowing looks, exaggerating whispers just to make her laugh. It had been harmless. Thoughtless. Safe.

Until Edward confessed—to Mira.

He told her he had liked her for a long time. That he had always noticed her. Always chosen her. Mira had been stunned, deeply uncomfortable, and painfully aware of the fragile line she was standing on. She hadn’t accepted him. She hadn’t encouraged him. She turned him down politely, firmly, without leaving room for misunderstanding.

But jealousy doesn’t need facts.

Alicia’s hurt hardened quickly, twisting into suspicion and resentment. Accusations followed—quiet at first, then sharp enough to wound.

You seduced him.

You wanted his attention.

You always take what isn’t yours.

Their friendship didn’t end in a fight.

It dissolved—cold, silent, and irreparable.

Years passed.

And now, of all places, they met again beneath crystal chandeliers and soft golden lighting, surrounded by tailored suits, muted laughter, and glasses of expensive wine.

"Mmm," Alicia’s voice drifted toward her, smooth and measured. "Well, isn’t this unexpected."

Mira turned slowly.

Alicia stood there immaculate—perfect posture, polished smile, a glass of wine held delicately between her fingers. Her gaze skimmed Mira from head to toe with professional curiosity, masking something far sharper beneath.

"Look who decided to show up," Alicia said lightly. "Mira Isabella Serrano."

Her lips curved faintly. "Or should I say... Mira Draymond."

The surname lingered deliberately.

Alicia took a small sip of wine, eyes never leaving Mira. "Married into the Draymond family," she continued, conversational. "To a rival, no less."

She tilted her head, feigning sympathy. "After all the history. Your family’s opposition. The scandals surrounding your father’s reputation all those years ago."

Her smile sharpened just a fraction.

"It must’ve caused quite the stir," she said softly. "Such a shame. For someone with your... background."

She raised her glass slightly, as if in mock toast. "But then again, you always did have a talent for complicating things, didn’t you, darling?"

She took another elegant sip, watching closely—waiting to see whether Mira would bend, break, or rise.

And in a room full of power, wealth, and quiet ambition, the tension between them remained perfectly invisible to everyone else.

Which made it far more dangerous.

Mira’s expression didn’t change—but the air around her did.

"Yes," she said calmly, her gaze steady. "Mira Draymond."

She let the name linger, then smiled faintly. "I find it interesting how my life seems to concern you more than your own."

Her eyes flicked briefly to Alicia’s wineglass before returning to her face. "As for rivals—history tends to look different when you grow up instead of clinging to high school fantasies."

A pause. Deliberate.

"You accused me of stealing something I never wanted," Mira continued, her voice smooth as silk. "If someone chooses to leave, that isn’t seduction. That’s clarity."

She leaned in just enough for the words to land. "But I understand why rewriting it feels easier."

Straightening, she added lightly, "And my family’s reputation survived far worse than gossip fueled by envy."

Her smile sharpened—flawless. "Enjoy the wine, Alicia. It’s meant to be aged. Unlike resentment."

Cassian stepped closer just as Alicia’s gaze flickered toward him.

She took him in slowly—his height, his composed posture, the quiet authority in the way he carried himself. Something dark and calculating stirred behind her smile.

An idea formed.

"Who is she?" Cassian asked quietly.

Before Mira could answer, Alicia spoke, her tone sweet and deliberate.

"I’m Alicia," she said smoothly. "Mira’s high school best friend."

She lifted her hand toward Cassian—but Mira stepped in sharply before he could take it.

"Excuse us," Mira said curtly, already pulling him away.

They stopped a short distance off, just out of earshot.

"What’s wrong?" Cassian asked, brows drawn together. "Who is she?"

"You don’t need to know," Mira replied coldly. "Just stay away from that bitch."

She turned and walked toward the kids, who were laughing and weaving between guests.

Cassian watched her go, irritation tightening his jaw.

The command.

The secrecy.

And against his better judgment, he did exactly what she told him not to do.

He moved deliberately, circling closer to Alicia—fully aware she would notice. Fully aware Mira would too.

He wanted her attention.

Wanted her jealousy.

Wanted her to turn around.

As expected, Alicia slipped easily into his space.

"So," she purred, eyes glinting, "why did you marry Mira?"

Cassian didn’t answer.

She smiled wider, encouraged. "You’re far too handsome for her. Men like you deserve better." Her hand settled on his shoulder, fingers lingering.

His jaw clenched.

The insult burned—but he endured it.

And right on cue, Mira looked back.

Their eyes met across the room.

Cassian held Alicia’s gaze, then deliberately extended his hand.

"May I have the honor of this dance?"

Alicia’s lips curved in triumph. "Why not?"

He placed a hand at her waist as the music swelled, guiding her into a slow dance. They moved together—close enough to provoke. Too close.

From across the room, Mira snapped.

She crossed the floor without hesitation, fury radiating off her.

"Hands off her."

Cassian released Alicia instantly.

"What’s wrong?" Alicia mocked, looping her arms around him again.

That was it.

Mira grabbed the nearest glass of wine and flung it straight into Alicia’s face.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"That," Mira said coldly, "is not where you belong."

Alicia shrieked. "Bitch!"

"That title started with you," Mira shot back. "What happened in high school was coincidence. What you’re doing now is intentional—and that’s why you deserve it."

Her voice dropped, sharp as steel.

"Don’t touch what isn’t yours. He’s mine."

Cassian watched her in stunned amusement.

And pride.

God help him—he liked being claimed.

Mira seized his hand and dragged him away.

"How dare you let her touch you," she snapped.

"That’s how I feel when Kael’s around you," he admitted quietly. "Like someone’s twisting a knife in my chest. I wanted you to feel it too."

Her steps slowed.

"And I want to know who Kael is."

She exhaled. "My childhood best friend. Nothing more."

Relief washed over him.

"I was wrong," Cassian said. "About that night. About the names I called you. I’m sorry."

She studied him for a long moment.

"Sorry doesn’t fix things," she said coolly. "You’ll pay for it."

His lips curved into a grin.

Right there, he dropped to one knee.

"Then punish me, my lady."

Her heart raced.

She pulled him up and dragged him into a dark corner outside the hall. Without a word, she kissed him—hard, claiming—biting his lip as he groaned softly. She slipped her tongue past his lips, tasting him, grounding herself in the heat of the moment.

He kissed her back with equal intensity, hands tightening at her waist as she moved to his neck, biting and marking him deliberately. His breath hitched—pain and desire tangled together.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless.

His neck bore clear evidence of her fury—and her want.

Cassian touched it and smiled.

"Look what you did to me."

"This," she said calmly, wiping a trace of lipstick from his face, "is just the beginning."

Mira stared at him, chest heaving.

"You’re lucky I didn’t throw you out of this party."

Cassian’s smile softened, the heat in his eyes turning into something gentler. "I like when you claim me."

Mira’s lips curled into smile.

"Then don’t give anyone the chance to take you."

And with that, they walked back into the party together.