POV: Elise Brandt (Cassandra’s closest social ally)
The lounge at Le Violette was where Velmont City’s elite sipped their mid-morning cappuccinos while trading secrets dressed as compliments. Crystal chandeliers sparkled over pristine marble, and every velvet chair was filled with old money and newer ambition.
Cassandra Vale didn’t just belong here—she owned the room, even without a stake in the place.
Elise Brandt watched her friend stir her coffee with practiced grace. Not a hair out of place, her beige wrap dress hugging her model frame, eyes sharp behind oversized sunglasses.
“Selena’s latest photo spread dropped this morning,” Elise offered carefully, scrolling through her phone. “The press loves it. ‘Fashion Empire’s Darling Finds Her Place in the Tech World.’ Very soft glam. Very… innocent.”
Cassandra didn’t look up. “Exactly what she wants.”
Elise tilted her head. “You think it’s fake?”
“I think it’s calculated,” Cassandra replied. “No heiress worth her Louboutins marries Leonard Knight in a whirlwind wedding without an angle.”
She finally looked up, smile icy and cool. “And it’s not love. That man doesn’t do love. Especially not with a Carter.”
Elise bit her lip. “I mean… you did see them at the charity gala. They didn’t seem… fake.”
“Selena’s very good at playing the part,” Cassandra said, setting her spoon down. “Sweet. Polished. But she doesn’t belong in our world, Elise. She was raised on editorial covers, not boardroom etiquette. Her idea of networking is posing for photographers.”
“She’s not stupid.”
“No,” Cassandra admitted. “But she’s out of her depth.”
Elise hesitated. “So… what’s the plan?”
Cassandra’s lips curved slowly. “We let the press do what it does best. Gossip needs oxygen. I’ll simply provide the match.”
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a sleek folder, sliding it across the table.
Elise opened it hesitantly. Inside were screenshots—whispers on private forums, carefully curated DMs to journalists, and a few photos that looked suspiciously timed.
“Where did you get these?”
“Don’t worry about that. What matters is what they’ll become once the right people see them. The narrative is simple—Selena Carter is in over her head. She’s using Leonard’s name to climb higher. She doesn’t love him. She’s ambitious. Calculating. Temporary.”
Elise frowned. “Isn’t that a little harsh?”
Cassandra leaned forward, voice low. “Leonard and I were supposed to be a partnership. Not in name—in empire. He needed someone who could stand beside him, not cling to him like a handbag. I don’t care about the marriage. But if she thinks she can waltz into my world and keep it, she’s mistaken.”
There it was. Not jealousy. Territorial instinct.
Cassandra didn’t want Leonard.
She wanted the power of being beside him.
And she wasn’t letting that go.
“Social perception is everything in Velmont,” Cassandra continued. “One wrong whisper can spiral into scandal. And Selena? She’s not used to that kind of pressure. She’s used to admiration. I want to see how she holds up under fire.”
Elise closed the folder slowly. “You’re playing with matches.”
Cassandra smiled. “Matches don’t burn queens. They burn little girls pretending to be one.”
Later that day, Elise found herself alone in the back of her car, Cassandra’s words echoing in her head.
She had always admired Cassandra. For her beauty, her control, her mastery of Velmont’s unspoken rules. But now… something felt different.
Colder.
Sharper.
She looked down at the folder resting on her lap and wondered if Cassandra had started a game she couldn’t fully control.
Because if there was one thing she’d learned in Velmont City, it was this:
The people you try to break are sometimes the ones who rise the highest.
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