When Love Finds Its Way Back (Cassienne and Dreston) novel Chapter 110

Chapter One Hundred And Ten: Patterns Don’t Lie.

The countdown echoed through the arena like a heartbeat amplified a thousand times. Every screen glowed red. Every breath was held.

Syntax’s avatar moved.

Against all expectations, it surged back to life, systems stabilising just enough, legs locking, balance snapping into place. A roar tore from the crowd as he launched forward, rage–fuelled, and reckless, chasing the shadow already sprinting toward the finish line.

“HE’S BACK UP-!”

“THIS ISN’T OVER-!”

Obsidian_13 didn’t look back.

Her avatar ran.

Not blindly and not desperately. Every step was calculated and angled just right to avoid collision, to shave milliseconds off the distance. The finish line glowed ahead, a strip of pulsing white light that felt impossibly far and terrifyingly close at the same time.

Syntax was gaining too close. His avatar stretched out, fingers brushing empty air.

Two.

The arena screamed.

“COME ON-!”

“RUN-!”

“OBSIDIAN-!”

Inside her pod, Cassienne’s hands flew. One last adjustment. One last burst of speed drawn from pure instinct and muscle memory.

She crossed the line.

One.

The system locked.

Syntax’s avatar slammed into the barrier a heartbeat too late, hard, brutal, and useless.

ZERO.

The match ended.

For a fraction of a second, there was nothing. Then the arena exploded.

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The sound crashed like thunder. People jumped to their feet, screaming, clapping, crying, and laughing. The giant screens flashed WINNER: OBSIDIAN_13, the letters blazing gold.

“She did it-!”

“OBSIDIAN_13 WINS!”

“This is HISTORY-!”

Confetti cannons fired. Lights strobed. The commentators were shouting now, voices overlapping in disbelief and exhilaration.

“UNBELIEVABLE!”

“A RECORD SETTER!”

“FROM STRATEGY TO AGGRESSION TO FINISH–THIS PLAYER HAS IT ALL!”

“This changes everything!”

In the VIP section, billionaires were already moving.

Hands reached for Dreston from every direction. Investors leaned in, their voices urgent, excited, and hungry.

“This player-”

“We need to talk about contracts.”

“What are you asking for exclusivity?”

“Name your terms.”

Dreston barely had time to breathe. He wasn’t listening to them. His mind was with Cassienne. Her safety comes first.

Not too far from him, Jeff Sandler stood up lowly, and deliberately. And he clapped.

A measured applause that carried more weight than the roaring crowd. His expression wasn’t disappointing. It wasn’t angry either, it was satisfying.

“Well played,” he said quietly.

He turned to Dreston, stepping forward, and extended his hand. Cameras immediately swung toward them.

“Congratulations,” Jeff said smoothly. “You’ve done it again.”

Dreston took the handshake, firm, controlled. “Thank you.”

More CEOs followed with more congratulations. And more calculated smiles.

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But Dreston’s eyes were already searching. He was searching for Obsidian_13. Cassienne.

She needed to disappear, now.

He broke free from the cluster of executives, his voice low but urgent as he reached Corren and Merrick.

“Please,” Dreston said, swallowing his pride without hesitation. “Make sure she’s okay. This is a critical

moment. I can’t leave here yet.”

Merrick froze.

He heard what that meant.

Dreston Tremont, who never begged, never yielded, had just placed Cassienne’s safety above his ego.

Corren, however, heard something else.

He nodded once. “I will.”

And then he was already moving.

Jeff noticed. Of course he did.

His gaze followed Corren’s departure, then shifted, just slightly, to where Cassienne stood in the VIP section, masked, quiet, surrounded by noise she couldn’t hear through the ringing in her ears.

Jeff’s lips curved. “So that’s how it is.” The match was over, but the storm had only begun.

Speculation erupted like wildfire.

“She fights like NULLWRAITH-!”

“Did you see those transitions?”

“That timing? No one else plays like that!”

“OBSIDIAN_13 IS NULLWRAITH!”

“No proof!”

“But come on-

Cameras panned wildly Commentators tried, and failed, to calm the frenzy.

“We must remind viewers that this is still speculation-”

“-but patterns don’t lie-”

“This could be the biggest reveal in esports history!”

Backstage, in a secured room, Corren pulled Cassienne into his arms the moment the door closed.

She was shaking now that the adrenaline was draining.

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“You did it,” he breathed, hugging her tightly. “You were incredible.”

She laughed softly, overwhelmed, her face buried against his chest.

Before she could pull away, he kissed her. It was quick, instinctive, full of pride and relief.

She didn’t stop him.

“You need to hurry and change,” Corren said urgently as he pulled back. “They’re obsessed about you. They’re already hunting for you.”

“I know,” Cassienne replied, steadying herself.

She changed quickly into the tracksuit Dreston had prepared. It was plain, unassuming, designed to erase her from the spotlight rather than draw it.

When they left together, they were careful not to draw attention to themselves.

Or so they thought. But one man saw them.

Jeff Sandler watched from the edge of the VIP section as Corren returned, with Cassienne beside him.

No mask now, and there was no doubt. Jeff leaned back in his chair, utterly relaxed.

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