When Love Finds Its Way Back (Cassienne and Dreston) novel Chapter 68

Chapter Sixty–Eight: Cassienne Will Be Mine Very Soon.

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Merrick stood in his office, leaning back against the edge of his desk with a tablet in his hands. His fingers scrolled through lines of data and reports, but his eyes weren’t truly seeing any of it.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. On the surface, he looked calm and composed–the picture of a man fully in control.

Inside, however, he was anything but calm.

No matter how hard he tried to focus, his mind kept drifting. Frustration built slowly, tightening in his chest. He almost cursed under his breath but stopped himself. Losing his temper wouldn’t fix anything.

Ever since Cassienne left, every decision that once needed her approval now landed squarely on his desk. He was doing the work of two offices, carrying responsibilities that had never been meant for one person alone.

And as if that wasn’t enough, his meeting with Dreston Tremont refused to leave his mind.

Merrick hated the fact that he had even agreed to meet him–hated it more that he had agreed to listen. Worst of all, he hated that he had walked away from that meeting tangled in something he never wanted to be part of.

Merrick had never liked Dreston.

And Dreston had never liked him either.

The difference was simple.

Merrick was Cassienne’s best friend. His dislike for Dreston came from watching, helplessly, as Cassienne was

treated like she didn’t matter.

Dreston’s dislike, on the other hand, had been rooted in jealousy. He had believed–wrongly–that Merrick wanted Cassienne for himself.

That misunderstanding was finally gone now. Dreston had come to understand the truth of Merrick and Cassienne’s bond, and with that understanding, his hostility toward Merrick had faded.

But not toward Corren.

And that was where the real problem lay.

Merrick exhaled slowly, his grip tightening around the tablet as his thoughts drifted back to yesterday—to the words Dreston had spoken so plainly, so desperately.

“I need you to help me,” Dreston had said. “I want my wife back.”

Merrick had almost laughed.

How could a man throw something precious away, only to reach for it again once it was gone?

It was foolish. No–it was worse than that.

It was selfish.

Cassienne wasn’t something to discard and retrieve at convenience.

And Merrick had made that clear.

He remembered his own voice, calm but unyielding.

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“I’m sorry, Mr. Tremont,” he had said. “I can’t help you with this. This is something you’ll have to do on your

own.”

Merrick lowered the tablet and stared at the floor.

Whatever Dreston wanted now, Merrick refused to be the bridge that led Cassienne back to the same pain she had fought so hard to leave behind.

Not this time.

Merrick had seen it clearly–the regret, the disappointment etched across Dreston’s face.

For a brief moment, he almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Merrick was a man too. He understood how hard it was for another man to swallow his pride and come forward, openly asking for help. That kind of humility didn’t come easily.

But sympathy didn’t erase accountability.

Whatever Dreston was feeling now, Merrick believed he had earned it.

Still, Merrick had asked the question that truly mattered.

“Why did you leave your wife if you really cared?” he had said calmly. “Why did you cheat on her?”

Dreston had given his reasons–long explanations layered with excuses, regret, and poorly masked guilt.

Merrick hadn’t wanted to hear any of it.

To him, Dreston was embarking on a mission impossible. And whatever path he chose from here, Merrick could only wish him luck.

That was all he deserved.

A soft knock on the door snapped Merrick out of his thoughts. His mind pulled away from Cassienne and Dreston instantly.

Before the door even fully opened, Merrick already knew who it was.

And truthfully, he wasn’t ready for this conversation either.

Corren stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. His movements were unusually slow, almost cautious. His hands were tucked into his trouser pockets, and his face carried a strange mix of freshness and unease–as though he hadn’t slept well but was trying to look composed.

When he reached Merrick’s desk, he stopped.

“You didn’t answer my calls last night,” Corren said, his tone edged with accusation.

Merrick didn’t respond.

“That’s not your style,” Corren continued. “What changed?” He paused, then added sharply, “Or did Dreston call you to buy you away too?”

Merrick’s eyes narrowed. A short scoff escaped him.

“And what makes you think that?” he asked coolly.

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Corren shrugged. “Men like Dreston will do anything to protect their position in this industry. I thought I had lost you too.”

Merrick straightened, pushing himself off the desk. He walked back to his chair and sat down deliberately, placing the tablet aside. He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest.

“Dreston doesn’t have the kind of money that can buy me, Corren,” he said flatly. “I’m not for sale.”

Corren quickly pulled out a chair and dropped into it, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the desk.

“So, he did offer you money?” he pressed. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Merrick exhaled slowly, then leaned forward as well, resting his forearms on the table.

“Dreston may be many things,” he said evenly, “but he doesn’t play dirty. He didn’t offer me money. That wasn’t the case.”

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