Bound By A Broken Night novel Chapter 8

"Miss Cassidy.”

I had been so lost in my thoughts while waiting for the bus that the voice calling my name barely registered. It took a second—before I looked up.

And immediately stood when recognition struck.

“Silas.”

The elder Pierce butler regarded me with his usual cold, distant demeanor, his posture as rigid and immaculate as ever. Time had not softened him in the slightest.

“Madame Carina wishes to meet with you,” he said, gesturing toward the sleek black vehicle parked a short distance from the bus stop.

My heart thundered violently in my chest.

After the scandal with Ashton, the thought of facing the old Pierce matriarch filled me with a bone-deep dread. Ashton was devoted to his grandmother, and Madame Carina Pierce was not a woman known for mercy—or warmth. She was sharp, perceptive, and terrifyingly intelligent.

“I hope you have time,” Silas added, his gaze flicking briefly to the small luggage beside me.

“Yes—of course, Silas,” I replied quickly, rising to my feet. I dragged my luggage behind me as I followed him to the car, my hands trembling despite my efforts to steady them.

The ride was eerily quiet.

No music. No conversation. Just the soft hum of the engine and my own thoughts spiraling wildly in my head. I tried to rehearse what I would say—how I would explain myself, how I would make her believe me.

But by the time the car came to a stop, I had nothing.

All I could feel was the crushing shame lodged in my chest and the bitter certainty that no matter what I said, I would never be able to convince the cunning matriarch of my innocence.

“Cassidy.”

I stiffened the moment my name was spoken after Silas ushered me into the room.

“Madame Pierce,” I said, quickening my steps. I didn’t dare make her wait any longer.

“Sit,” she commanded gently, gesturing to the chair across from her as she elegantly lifted her teacup and took a measured sip.

I obeyed at once, clasping my hands tightly in my lap, my head bowed. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure she could hear it.

“What happened between you and Ashton, Cassidy?”

Her tone was calm—graceful even—but it carried a weight that pressed down on me mercilessly. She placed the cup back on its saucer with deliberate care.

“Uhm… I…” My mind scrambled for words, only to find nothing. Everything I had practiced in the car vanished as if it had never existed.

“I waited until Ashton left the country before meeting with you,” she continued evenly. “I want an honest answer. You know I do not tolerate lies.”

The firmness in her voice was familiar. Miriam and I had grown up under that same strictness every time our family visited the Pierce estate as close friends of the household.

“I—I came from my graduation party that night,” I began shakily, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “I went home… even though I was already drunk.”

My hands tightened together as I tried to piece together the fragments of memory left behind.

“I don’t know what happened after that,” I admitted, my voice quivering. “I just… I don’t remember.”

I swallowed hard.

“I woke up the next morning… with Ashton.”

Shame burned through me as I lowered my head, unable to meet her gaze.

“We were both naked,” I continued weakly, my voice breaking. “And my body… it had all the evidence of something happening—something I couldn’t remember at all.”

A tear slipped free before I could stop it, splashing onto my clasped hands.

“I was terrified,” I whispered. “I had no recollection of anything—just the pain in my body.”

I forced myself to look up then, my vision blurred but determined.

“I swear, Madame. I did not drug Ashton. I was too drunk myself—I couldn’t have. I didn’t even know he was at the Knowles’ house that night.”

My chest tightened as I rushed on, afraid silence would condemn me.

“I would never ruin what Miriam and Ashton have. Never. Yes, I admired Ashton for a long time—but that’s all it ever was. Admiration. Nothing more.”

I chose honesty over pride, knowing that a lie would only destroy whatever faint goodwill she still held toward me.

Madame Carina remained silent.

She simply watched me, her expression unreadable, her gaze sharp and penetrating.

And as the seconds stretched on, her quiet scrutiny tore my nerves into pieces.

"Who brought you home that night?” she asked casually, lifting her teacup once more and taking a graceful sip.

“Uhmm…” I stared at her, momentarily distracted by the effortless elegance with which she performed such a simple act. My mind went utterly blank.

“I… I honestly can’t remember how I got home. Maybe I took a cab.” I shook my head faintly, as if the motion might somehow shake loose a memory from that fractured night.

“And yet you ended up in the bedroom Ashton occupies every time he stays at the Knowles residence,” she observed calmly, her voice stripped of emotion.

“Yes,” I nodded, eyes closing briefly as I drew a shallow breath.

“Ashton claimed he was drugged,” she added, her index finger idly tracing the curve of the teacup’s handle.

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