CHAPTER 108: PLAY THE EMOTIONAL CARD

~CASSANDRA~

I paced the length of the kitchen, phone pressed to my ear, listening to the endless ringing.

There was no answer... again.

It had been two days since I’d last spoken to Erica, and the silence was starting to grate on me like sandpaper against raw skin.

Where the hell was she?

Our last call replayed in my mind like a bad loop. She’d been at Layla’s house, whispering about planting the bugs just like I’d instructed.

"All set," she’d said smugly. "Study, living room, kitchen, bedroom, foyer. They’ll never know." I’d reminded her to stay sharp, not to screw it up. She’d laughed it off, promising updates soon.

But nothing since. No texts, no calls. Radio silence.

I stopped pacing and dropped the phone on the kitchen counter, staring at the screen like it might suddenly come to life.

Maybe her phone died.

Or she got caught up in something stupid.

But Erica wasn’t the type to ghost me, not when she had so much riding on this. She hated Layla as much as I did, maybe more. That jealousy of hers was like fuel; I’d seen it burn bright when she talked about Axel.

"I deserve him," she’d said once, her eyes flashing with resentment. "Not her."

I’d encouraged it, of course. Let her think seducing him was part of the plan. Anything to keep her loyal and focused on the mission.

But now? This quiet felt wrong.

I tried the number again, and it went straight to voicemail this time. "Erica, call me back. Now," I said sharply, hanging up with more force than necessary.

The sound of footsteps made me turn. Daniel walked in, his face twisted in that irritable scowl he’d worn since the hospital and the news that I’d miscarried.

"Dan?" I called, wanting to rant to him, to have someone validate my growing panic. "Can we talk?"

"What is it?" he snapped, not even looking at me as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"Erica’s not picking up," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "It’s been two days. She should have called with an update by now."

He snorted, popping the cap with unnecessary force. "Maybe she finally wised up and ditched you. Like I should have."

I whirled on him. "Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?"

"You heard me." He took a long swig of beer, speaking in a bitter tone. "This whole mess: your schemes, the lies, the manipulation, it’s falling apart. And now Layla’s coming for us with everything she’s got. I left her for you, Cassandra. For what? This?"

"Did I put a gun to your head to marry me?" I shot back. "And you were all in on this. Don’t act like you’re innocent. You wanted the power, the Watson name, all of it."

"Power?" He laughed bitterly. "Look around, Cassandra. Look at where we are. Our unborn child is dead. You’re facing court charges. I might be taken in as an accomplice if things blow up, and meanwhile, Layla’s out there parading around with that billionaire husband like she’s won the lottery. I could’ve had a quiet life with her. Instead, I’m stuck with you and your endless plots."

"Stuck?" I stepped closer, my voice dropping to something low and venomous. "You think you can just walk away now? After everything? I made you, Daniel. Without me, you’re nothing but a spineless coward."

He set the beer down hard, foam spilling over the edge. "Maybe nothing’s better than this." He grabbed his keys from the counter. "I’m out. Don’t wait up."

The door slammed behind him, making me flinch. I stood alone in the kitchen, shaking with rage and something else... fear, maybe. The kind of fear that comes when you realize your carefully constructed world is crumbling faster than you can rebuild it.

Before I could process it, the doorbell rang.

I checked the peephole and my stomach clenched. Father, with his lawyer trailing like a shadow. I forced myself to take a breath, pasted on a composed smile, and opened the door.

"Cassandra," Charles said, stepping inside without a hug or any warmth. The lawyer, a sharp-eyed man named Harlan, nodded silently in greeting. We moved to the living room; Father headed to the bar, and poured himself a scotch.

"We need to talk strategy," he said, settling into the couch like a judge on a bench.

I sat across from him, my hands folded carefully in my lap. "Did you offer Layla the deal? The payoff to drop the charges? What did she say?"

He scoffed. "What did you expect? That she’d roll over? After everything you did? No, she’s digging in, determined to see this through to the bitter end. But we’ll maneuver things our way. We always do."

I knew Layla wouldn’t take the deal.

When Daniel proposed it earlier, I let it play out just to prove my point, that his precious Layla wouldn’t even consider our offers. That she was too far gone, too consumed by her need for revenge.

"Then Erica... She’s been silent for two days," I admitted. "She was supposed to..." I paused, not wanting to say anything in front of the lawyer. "She’s just not picking up my calls."

Charles’s expression hardened. "Handle that. Make sure she doesn’t become a problem."

"How am I supposed to..."

"That’s not my concern, Cassandra. You brought her into this mess. You handle it." He took a sip of scotch, studying me over the rim of his glass. "My major concern is disputing the evidence they have against you, that you intentionally caused the accident."

"You mean the dashboard footage?"

"Yeah. You are more of a victim if we look at it from another angle. The accident was what caused trauma to your tummy, leading to the miscarriage. That is where you’d play the emotional card."

The lawyer spoke for the first time. "I know the judge; he’s a senior colleague of mine, and even though I can’t get him to cut a deal, I’ve been able to get him to listen, and he promised to be lenient."

"Exactly," Charles said, turning back to face me. "Now, here’s what we’re going to do regarding the trial..."