Bound By A Broken Night novel Chapter 112

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Chapter 112

“Mirriam’s words…” she murmured, the sound barely more than a breath.

“are true,” Ashton finished quietly, holding her gaze.

The confirmation hit her harder than she expected.

Cassie did not move. She did not flinch. On the surface, she appeared calm–almost detached–but inside, everything was unraveling.

Her thoughts collided and scattered in every direction. Shock twisted into confusion. Anger brushed against something dangerously close to relief. And beneath it all was a strange, hollow emptiness, as if her emotions had drained faster than she could grasp them.

She had so much to ask. So much to say. But her mind was blank.

Words abandoned her, leaving only silence and the weight of his eyes on her.

“I was the one who picked you up at the bar,” Ashton continued when she gave no response. His voice was calm, measured,

almost cautious.

“You were too drunk. It was the first time I saw you lose control like that.”

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Fragments of memory flickered faintly at the edge of her mind, but they did nothing to quiet the storm raging inside her.

“Why?”

The word came after a long stretch of silence. Her voice was dry and fragile, as though the single question had scraped its way

out of her throat.

Ashton’s brows drew together slightly. “Why?”

Cassie swallowed, shaking her head as she tried to untangle the chaos inside her, struggling to give shape to the countless questions pressing against her chest.

“For someone as… innocent as you,” Ashton said gently, “a place like that is dangerous.”

Cassie shook her head again, more firmly this time.

That wasn’t what she meant. That wasn’t the answer she was looking for.

Her mind raced, searching for the real question buried beneath the confusion, the anger, the hurt that had begun to surface.

Slowly, her eyes lifted to meet his–troubled, searching, and no longer empty.

“That morning…” she began, her voice low but steady, though tension tightened her expression. “You were furious when you found me in your bed.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, the first sparks of anger breaking through the numbness.

“You accused me of scheming. Of setting everything up.” Her breathing deepened as the memories came rushing back, sharp and overwhelming.

“You didn’t even try to listen.” Her hands curled at her sides.

“You stood there and watched while they dragged me out like I was some kind of criminal.” The words trembled despite her effort to keep them controlled.

“I begged you to help me.” Pain flickered across her eyes, raw and unguarded now.

“But you just looked at me…” Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat before they hardened into something sharper.

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“With cold indifference.”

The memory seemed to breathe life into her anger.

“You sided with them,” she continued, her voice no longer weak, but trembling with restrained emotion.

“You comforted Mirriam… and you chastised me.”

Her chest rose and fell unevenly as the past replayed itself with cruel clarity.

“You ruined me without a second thought,” she said, the words coming out slower now, heavier.

“You didn’t even hesitate. You made me look like a shameless woman… like someone desperate enough to climb into your bed for attention.” Her fingers curled tightly at her sides, nails digging into her palms as if the pain could steady her.

“You made me feel so small,” she whispered.

“So pitiful.” Her composure began to fracture despite her efforts to hold it together.

“And now…” Her voice dropped, trembling with something deeper than anger.

“Now you’re telling me it was you all along?”

The realization, the betrayal, the humiliation, the confusion–everything surged at once.

“It was you,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Pain, resentment, and emotions she could no longer name swelled inside her chest, pressing painfully against her ribs. Her eyes turned red, the rims bloodshot as she struggled to keep the tears from falling.

All this time.

All the suffering.

All the humiliation.

All the nights she questioned herself.

Because of him.

Throughout her accusations, Ashton did not move.

He remained calm. He did not interrupt. He did not argue. He did not look away.

He simply stood there, his gaze fixed on her–steady, unwavering–accepting every word, every accusation, every fragment of anger and hurt she hurled at him without resistance.

The silence broke something inside her.

“It was you all this time!”

The outrage burst out of her like a dam giving way. Before she could think, before she could stop herself, Cassie lunged forward and struck his chest with both fists.

“It was you!”

Her blows came again and again, fists pounding against him with all the strength she could muster. Each strike carried the weight of humiliation, confusion, betrayal, and the helpless nights she had spent questioning herself.