The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 174

Chapter 174 

Third Person’s POV 

Cassian looked down at her. 

In this moment, standing by his side, her scent was steady and her poise was flawless. She looked like an impeccable Luna. 

Throughout the entire event, Trista had held the floor, never giving him a single opening to speak. 

She had handled every question with surgical precision, keeping every potential emotional landmine buried deep beneath the surface. And then, as quickly as it had begun, she swept him off the stage and out of the building. 

Faced with this version of Trista, Cassian could only sink into a long, heavy silence. 

Her sudden icy composure didn’t bring him peace; instead, it gave him a terrifying sense that he was losing control. 

As the media storm began to dissipate, the two of them walked out of the 

press conference. 

Trista kept moving, her eyes glued to her phone as she refreshed the latest updates, making sure the public narrative was firmly back on track. 

Cassian followed, his face a mask of cold hostility, his presence radiating a restless, simmering frustration. 

The driver opened the door, and Trista slid into the back of the Bentley. 

Meanwhile, in a cramped dressing room across Los Angeles, the air was anything but controlled. 

Samantha stared at the screen, watching the replay of the conference. 

There they were–Cassian and Trista, standing shoulder to shoulder, fingers interlaced, publicly crushing the scandal. 

Her breathing turned ragged in the small space. 

With a sudden burst of rage, she swept the makeup off the vanity. Bottles and jars shattered against the floor with a series of sharp, jagged cracks. 

She had thought this was her moment–a gift handed to her on a silver platter. 

She assumed that if the media dug deep enough into those photos, Cassian would eventually be backed into a corner and forced to come clean. 

She never expected Trista to kill the entire story in a single night with just a few well–placed sentences. 

Watching Trista play the devoted lover on screen–and seeing the way Cassian’s eyes never left her, full of a heavy, possessive focus–Samantha felt a wave of jealousy that threatened to drown her. 

“I was the first one he ever loved,” she thought, her grip tightening. 

“I’m the one who actually holds a place in his heart.” 

“As long as I’m still standing, Trista is on borrowed time.” 

Samantha took a deep breath, forcing her features into a calm mask. She straightened her hair in the mirror and pulled out her communication stone. 

The black Bentley cruised down a main LA artery. 

The backseat was quiet–so quiet that their individual breathing felt deafening. 

A faint vibration hummed from the armrest. The comm–stone flickered to life, a cold glow rippling across the crystal surface like a stone dropped into a dark pond. 

Cassian glanced at the caller ID, then cut his eyes toward Trista. 

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