The living room was dead quiet.
No one moved. No one breathed. Not even Poppy dared to pad across the floor.
Cassie sat on the edge of the armchair, her hands trembling in her lap, head bowed like a prayer she hadn't learned how to say. The walls still smelled like perfume and burnt candles from last night's gala. A few empty champagne flutes stood on the coffee table, glitter heels discarded in corners like memories no one wanted to claim.
Across from her sat Lily, Victor, Blair, Maddie, Jasmine, Caleb, James, Mary, Judy, and Grace. The entire room. Silent.
Cassie swallowed hard. She didn't know how to speak. Her throat was tight—so tight it hurt to breathe.
She never thought she'd feel like this. Like she had no air. No words. Just the sound of her own guilt scratching at her chest.
Her eyes lifted—barely—to meet her dad's.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
It was small. Almost too small to hear. But everyone heard it.
Victor stood immediately, crossing the room to her. He didn't hesitate. Didn't ask questions.
He just pulled his daughter into his arms.
"It's in the past," he said quietly, his voice thick. "You were drunk. That boy had no right to record you. None of this is your fault."
Cassie broke. A single sob shook her shoulders as she gripped her father's shirt like a lifeline.
"I was trying to save us," she choked. "Me and Blair—we were trying so hard. And I didn't even know… I was the reason we got here."
Blair looked down at her hands. Her stomach twisted. She hadn't expected this either—not the tape, not the scandal, not the way Cassie looked like a broken glass trying to piece herself back together.
Lily stepped forward. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she knelt in front of the girls.
She placed a hand on each of them—Cassie and Blair—and looked them in the eyes.
"It's okay, Cass," Lily said. "None of us saw this coming. But you two did something incredible tonight. You stopped Miranda. You saved this family. I'm proud of you both."
Cassie fell into her stepmother's arms, tears still slipping down her cheeks.
Blair, for the first time in a long time, let herself lean in too.
Behind them, Caleb spoke up from where he stood near the window.
"We still need to sue that boy," he said, calm but sharp. "For recording that video without consent. I'll get the legal team on it."
"Agreed," James added, jaw tight. "Whatever it takes."
Cassie nodded faintly, wiping at her eyes. Her voice was raw now. Barely there.
"I… I just want to go to bed."
"Of course," Lily said, helping her up.
Cassie walked toward the stairs slowly, like the night was still clinging to her skin. Blair stood for a second, watching her go, unsure whether to follow or stay.
Then Maddie stood too and gently touched Blair's shoulder. No words—just that same quiet understanding.
And the room stayed still, each of them trying to decide what would come next, after everything that broke in the dark.
---
James POV
He leaned against the railing of the upstairs hallway, arms crossed, tie loosened, top button undone. Everyone had gone quiet. The storm was over, but the air still felt electric. Like something had changed permanently—and he couldn't unsee it.
Cassie, the girl he'd grown up teasing and half-committing to, had surprised the hell out of him tonight.
So had Blair.
Especially Blair.
They had worked together. Schemed. Distracted Miranda. Snuck into his private study and somehow stole the keycard to the Covey servers without him suspecting a damn thing. And they played it perfectly. Elegant. Calculated. Ruthless.
He hadn't seen it coming—and that pissed him off.
But what unnerved him more… was how much he liked it.
Blair had walked into that ballroom in a midnight silk dress that barely touched her knees and somehow dragged the air out of his lungs. It wasn't just the way she looked—though she looked insane. Sexy. Soft. Powerful. It was how she walked. Quiet. Straight. Unbothered.
Like the room bowed to her without her needing to ask.
She didn't belong there, and yet she did. Effortlessly.
He hated the way she'd looked heartbroken for Cassie.
He hated it because it wasn't fake.
And for some twisted reason, her empathy made him want her more.
She had this stillness in chaos, this softness edged in something steel. And he hadn't even known her long. Three times, maybe. A few exchanges. Barely even conversation.
And yet… she was in his head.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.
Across the hall, Caleb was in the guest room with Andrew, probably crashing. The girls had all split—Blair and Maddie in Blair's room. Jasmine was with Cassie, curled in one side of the bed like a sister who refused to let go. Mary had followed. Judy and Grace were down the hall.
No one was going home tonight. James made that decision the second the tape dropped.
He had to find the guy. Whoever recorded Cassie. Whoever shared it. He didn't care what it cost. He'd burn down their lives in return.
And he'd make sure they never touched Cassie—or Blair—again.
---
The hallway creaked under his feet as he made his way to Blair's room.
He didn't know why he was going. Maybe to annoy her. Maybe to thank her. Maybe just to see if she still looked like magic under soft lights and half-open pajamas.
He knocked once.
"Who is it?" Maddie's voice chirped from inside.
"James," he replied, leaning into the door.
A beat. Whispering. Then it opened a crack.
Blair's face peeked through, hair slightly wet, cheeks flushed, a satin robe slipping loosely over her shoulder. A sliver of pale thigh, smooth and soft, glinted under the hallway light.
"Why are you here?" she asked flatly, trying to hold back a smirk.
He leaned one arm against the doorframe. "Can I sleep here tonight?"
"You have like seven rooms."
"Yours smells better."
Maddie laughed from the bed behind her. "Let him in. He's clearly desperate."
"I'm not desperate," James said, brushing past Blair casually. "I'm curious."
"About?"
He walked to the small bookshelf and pulled out one of the thick recipe books. "Why the hell do you own five cookbooks thicker than medical journals?"
Blair crossed her arms, the robe shifting with her. "Cooking calms me."
He tilted his head, eyes sweeping her slowly, unapologetically. "Doesn't seem like the only thing about you that's… hot."
Blair blinked. "You're such a man whore."
Maddie snorted again from the bed, half hiding under a blanket now.
James smirked, putting the book down. "Guilty. But only selectively."
He walked back to the door, pausing a moment too long to look at Blair again. Really look. She wasn't doing anything. Just standing there, barefoot, flushed, robe slipping in just the right ways.
And still, somehow, she looked like a problem he wouldn't mind being ruined by.
"Goodnight, Maybell," he said, voice low, sharp around the edges.
"Don't get lost on the way back to your ego," she replied without missing a beat.
He chuckled and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
---
Maddie waited a second, then propped herself on one elbow.
"He likes you."
Blair turned toward her. "I've only met him, like… three times."
"That doesn't stop a man whore," Maddie smirked.
Blair rolled her eyes. "Exactly. He flirts with anything that walks."
Maddie grinned. "Yeah. But he only came knocking on your door tonight."
---