Bound By A Broken Night novel Chapter 61

Chapter 61

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Days passed without Zandrie returning to the hotel. Unlike the previous nights, however, a message finally came through.

The collaboration had been sealed–or, more precisely, it was an acquisition. Every term had been met after more than a week of relentless negotiations.

Cassie read the message once. Then again.

“Great job, Zandrie,” she murmured, a rare note of genuine approval softening her voice.

Whatever his peculiar habits and personal indulgences, Zandrie was dependable where it mattered. Give him clear objectives and boundaries, and he always delivered results. This time was no different.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to relax.

That moment didn’t last.

Only a few days after news of the acquisition began circulating within business circles, a rumor surfaced -swift and vicious. It spread like wildfire, fed by speculation and sharpened by malice.

Worse, it was backed by what was claimed to be leaked CCTV footage.

Cassie frowned as her phone received a message. The article–forwarded by Zandrie’s assistant–loaded on her screen, headlines screaming scandal in bold, unforgiving letters.

Her grip tightened around the phone.

“What the…?” she muttered, her pulse quickening as she skimmed the report.

Without hesitation, she dialed Zandrie’s number.

No answer.

She tried again. And again. Each unanswered call made her chest tighten further. When she finally stopped, her hands were trembling, fingers whitening as she clenched the phone in her grasp.

Thankfully, it was mid–afternoon. The restaurant where she sat with her coffee and open MacBook was nearly empty. No curious eyes. No need to mask the tension tightening her features.

Unable to reach Zandrie, she called Lemuel instead. The dial tone stretched far too long before he finally picked up.

“What the hell is this?” Cassie snapped the moment the line connected, her teeth clenched tight.

“Where is Zandrie? I want to talk to him.”

“Miss Cassie,” Lemuel replied, his voice strained with barely concealed anxiety, “CEO Wallace is… quite occupied at the moment.”

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“Occupied?” Her irritation flared, sharp and immediate. “With what, exactly?”

She inhaled slowly, forcing herself to rein in her temper before it spilled over onto the wrong person.

“Fine,” she said tightly. “If he doesn’t want to speak to me, then tell me what’s happening. Why did this happen?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Last night,” Lemuel began carefully, “after the acquisition contract was signed, Knowles Corporation

hosted a celebration.”

Cassie closed her eyes, already bracing herself.

“I was with CEO Wallace during dinner,” he continued.

“But after two glasses of wine, he dismissed me. We’d all been exhausted after days of negotiations, so I decided to retire for the night.”

Her jaw tightened.

“When I left, CEO Wallace was still with the Knowles family,” Lemuel added.

“Miss Mirriam Knowles opened another bottle of wine. I don’t know what happened after that.”

He exhaled heavily before continuing.

“It was just before lunch today when I saw the ‘leaked‘ footage–CEO Wallace and Miss Mirriam entering a hotel room. I sent it to Sir Zandrie immediately, but he hasn’t responded. So I forwarded it to you as well

so you could prepare.”

The silence that followed was thick–heavy with implications neither of them needed to voice.

The video had already amassed countless views, shares, and reactions. It was everywhere–too widespread, too consumed, too late to be contained.

Cassie steadied herself before speaking again.

“What did Zandrie say?” she asked calmly, every ounce of emotion carefully reined in.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“He said…” Lemuel hesitated. She could hear him draw in a slow, uneasy breath.

“You should rest and enjoy shopping,” Lemuel finished quickly.

Cassie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the breath fill her lungs before releasing it just as slowly.

Of course.

The words echoed with far more meaning than they appeared to hold.

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The call ended, leaving Cassie with a tightness in her chest that refused to ease.

No longer in the mood to work, she shut her MacBook and slipped it into her bag. Her movements were unhurried–deliberately so–as if slowing down might distract her from the storm brewing inside. It didn’t

help.

“How am I supposed to calm down, Zandrie Wallace?” she murmured, pressing her fingers to her

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