The Mogul's Shattered Regret

Total chaos hit. Camera flashes exploded in my face. Reporters shoved mics against my lips. "Maeve, who's the dad?" I turned.

My eyes cut through the madness and locked onto the VIP front row. Cassian. The untouchable mogul holding Hollywood in a chokehold. The guy who never cracks.

For the very first time, he totally lost his grip. He stared. Pure panic drained the color from his face. I held his gaze. I leaned into the mic. "I don't have a kid." How could I?

Years ago, he ditched me under earthquake rubble to save Monroe. We have zero chance. Ever. Chapter 1 Monroe had Cassian as her powerful patron.

And the Cassian family essentially owned the entertainment industry. An unspoken rule dominated Hollywood—if you want to be an Alister, get into Cassian’s bed. Crude, but accurate.

Any woman remotely linked to him found every door wide open. Except me. I remained the only woman to date him publicly, only to end up completely blacklisted.

Because I crossed Monroe. For six agonizing years, I clawed my way up from the dirt. The public praised my acting, but the academies ignored me.

Endless nights of sitting in the audience, clapping for someone else, ground down my sharp edges. I stopped sharing stages with Monroe.

If she wanted a script, I claimed scheduling conflicts and backed out immediately. Maybe my silent surrender finally worked.

Or maybe, with her and Cassian planning their wedding, they didn't want the bad press or any bad omens.

So tonight, they let a trophy slip through their fingers and fall into my lap. Stella gripped my hands tight when we got the news.

Tears welled in my manager's eyes. "Maeve, the nightmare is finally over." Cassian finally let me off the hook.

I didn't cause our breakup, but I stood absolutely no chance against him. I waved the white flag a long time ago. Sharing the red carpet with Monroe practically broke the internet.

The mogul's new obsession and his discarded ex. She orchestrated this specifically to humiliate me. We wore the exact same designer.

But she draped herself in the unreleased custom piece, while I wore last season's leftovers. The internet would rip me to shreds.

Her stans and my haters would trend my pathetic look within minutes. It didn't matter. I stopped trying to outshine her years ago.

I definitely stopped waiting for Cassian to look back at me. If she demanded the spotlight, I happily stood in the shadows. But Monroe still wanted blood.

She leaned in, her voice a poisonous whisper. "Maeve, did you know Cassian is coming tonight?" I didn't. Cassian and I severed every tie the day we ended.

A dull ache settled in my chest. My stiletto caught on the red carpet. Just hearing his name made my lungs seize. Monroe caught my stuttering step.

A mocking smirk twisted her lips. "Don't get ideas. He's here for me. It has nothing to do with you." "I know," I said evenly.

Cassian owned this industry, but he despised public events. Even when our romance burned its brightest, he never once walked a red carpet for me.

Monroe tilted her chin up. "Cassian and I are getting married soon." I nodded, turning to give her a genuine, hollow smile. "Congratulations." My complete lack of fight bored her.

Or maybe she just felt desperate to find him. The second we cleared the flashing cameras, she ditched me without a backward glance.

I stayed behind, posing for the remaining photographers and answering safe questions. The press knew the rules. Not a single person mentioned Cassian.

Our romance burned down the internet back then, but the fallout proved spectacularly ugly. Cassian actually discovered I dumped him by reading the trending topics.

During an interview six years ago, a reporter pushed hard for wedding details. I stared straight into the lens, my features locked in stone. "We broke up." No warning. No reason.

Chapter 2 He offered no explanations or apologies, and didn't even demand a reason for the sudden breakup.

He only asked one question. "Are you sure?" I let out a soft hum of confirmation. A beat of heavy silence over the line. Then, the sharp click of him hanging up.

I had braced myself for his absolute rage. He grew up with the world at his feet. No one ever dared to tell him no. Yet, I dumped him, and he had to find out from the internet.

The hashtag CassianDumped stayed on the trending page for three days. Cassian didn't lift a single finger to scrub it. My agency completely panicked.

Terrified of crossing his powerful family, they paid off platforms to wipe the tag. It surged back to the top in less than sixty seconds. He wasn't letting himself get humiliated.

That was his warning to me. My career plummeted immediately after. Doors slammed shut. Scripts vanished into thin air. It took six grueling years for his wrath to finally burn out.

Six years, right up until the eve of his wedding to Monroe. The suffocating memories threatened to pull me under.

The host called my name twice before reality snapped back into focus. Deafening applause shook the auditorium. Everyone beamed at me.

I slipped past the cheering crowd and threw a single glance at the front row. Monroe sat there. An empty velvet chair waited right beside her. No name tag needed.

Everyone in this room knew who owned that seat. Cassian hadn't shown up yet. Good. It killed the awkwardness before it could even breathe. I stepped up to the microphone.

I raised my head to deliver my speech, only to be caught off guard. Cassian sat right there. Dead center.

The years had hardened him into something colder, something utterly untouchable. Our eyes locked. He stared at me like I was a complete stranger.

Not a single flicker of emotion crossed his dark gaze. I dug my manicured nails into my palms, forced my racing heart to steady, and delivered my speech flawlessly.

Whispering didn't even begin to cover the chaos that erupted next. The crowd tried to keep it down, but the sheer shock of the scandal blew the lid off the room.

Voices escalated into a hungry roar. My haters had just dropped a nuclear bomb online. The video of me, heavily pregnant, played for the entire world to see.

It had happened six years ago. Right after I walked away from Cassian. I tried to bury myself in a new movie role, but a positive test shattered those plans.

I backed out of the project and vanished from Hollywood for an entire year. The leaked footage came from my old apartment building's security cameras.

I couldn't even remember why I dragged myself outside that day. But I hadn't worn a mask. My face stared right back at the lens, undeniable and clear.

I gripped the heavy gold trophy and hurried off the stage. Stella and my assistant rushed over, desperate to shield me and escort me out of the venue. We were seconds too late.

A tidal wave of press crashed into us. Camera flashes blinded me. Microphones shoved dangerously close to my jaw.

Every single reporter screamed the exact same question. "Maeve, who is the father?" The mob pinned me in place. I couldn't take a single step forward.

Just a few yards away, a wide, empty circle formed around Cassian. No one dared breathe in his direction. If I was still on his arm, these vultures wouldn't dare swarm me like this.

I caught sight of Cassian through the blinding flashes. All the color vanished from his face. His knuckles turned bonewhite where his fingers dug brutally into the velvet armrest.

He knew exactly whose child that was. The untouchable king of Hollywood finally cracked in front of an audience. I didn't give the bloodthirsty press what they wanted.

I forced a brilliant, empty smile and leaned toward the nearest microphone. "I don't have a child." Chapter 3 Grime coated the hem of my designer gown.

The mob ripped a diamond earring straight from my lobe. We bolted from the venue, outrunning the rabid press like fugitives instead of award winners.

Stella and my assistant collapsed into the back of the SUV, chests heaving. Stella dragged a shaking hand through her hair before turning to me. "What the hell just happened?

You have a kid? Is it Cassian’s? Where is the baby, Maeve?" A bitter laugh scraped my throat. I didn't even know where to start.

My current team wasn't with me from the very beginning. They only knew the twisted internet lore and industry gossip surrounding my history with the mogul.

When I vanished for a year, Hollywood assumed Cassian blacklisted me. When I finally crawled back, the narrative shifted.

The public decided I was just a brokenhearted ex licking her wounds in hiding. No one in this town knew the actual truth. Not even Stella.

Until that video dropped tonight, they all bought the timeline. A oneyear hiatus. The perfect window to hide a pregnancy.

A frantic, hopeful spark lit up Stella’s eyes. "If Cassian comes knocking for his heir, use this. Fix things with him, Maeve.

You’ll have Hollywood eating out of the palm of your hand." I slowly shook my head.

Stella practically vaulted out of her seat, her skull slamming against the car roof. "Are you insane? You want to cross him again?" How could I dare?

I met her panicked stare. "I don't have a child." I carried his baby once. But I didn't keep it. Disbelief tightened Stella's features. The math lined up perfectly.

She opened her mouth to argue, but my assistant shoved a glowing screen between us. "Stella, look at this." Stella snatched the phone, bracing for impact. "Did the hate tags explode?

Those absolute vultures—" She choked on her own words. All the color vanished from her face. "What… what the hell?" Not a single negative hashtag trended.

Zero unflattering photos from my disastrous escape flooded the timelines. Cassian wiped the internet completely clean.

A man like him could obliterate a life with a single snap of his fingers. He could shield one just as effortlessly.

Stella rubbed her temples, a migraine brewing. "You really didn't keep the baby? How exactly are you going to explain that to Cassian?" Why would I owe him an explanation?

He didn't love me. And he stood days away from putting a ring on Monroe’s finger. The leaked footage detonated a bomb in his perfectly curated life. Of course he demanded answers.

I just didn't expect him to strike this fast. The SUV pulled up to my apartment building. A towering silhouette carved through the heavy shadows.

He looked exactly the same as he did six years ago. Back then, Cassian would open his arms, waiting for me to crash into his chest.

Tonight, he stood frozen in the dark, radiating a lethal, glacial chill that dared anyone to step closer. Panic flared in Stella’s eyes.

Her fingers clamped around my wrist before I could open the door. I threw a hollow smile over my shoulder. "Relax.

If he wanted me dead, he wouldn't get his own hands dirty." Stella blew out a shaky breath, her grip loosening. "Just talk to him. We crawled through hell to get here, Maeve.

Don't go setting your own life on fire again." I nodded, plastering on a fake smile, and stepped out into the freezing night.

Chapter 4 I waited until Stella's taillights disappeared into the dark. Then, I turned to face him. I forced my legs to move. Slow, even strides. Like approaching an old friend.

But beneath my ribs, a frantic rhythm battered against my sternum. The closer I got, the harder it hit. After all, I had loved him deeply once.

My bones remember the exact moment that love curdled into ash. The earthquake. The deafening roar of collapsing concrete.

And the sight of his back, sprinting toward Monroe without a single glance behind him. The dust choking my lungs hadn't killed me. The absolute abandonment almost did.

Cassian knew exactly why I walked away. Yet he never offered a single syllable of explanation. No apologies.

Instead, because I publicly humiliated him with that sudden breakup, he spent the next six years making sure Hollywood chewed me up and spat me out. He held all the cards.

He always did.

Even now, knowing exactly who destroyed us, I swallowed my pride and broke the silence first. "Sir." A hard crease formed between his brows. "I prefer it when you just use my name." His voice dropped, a low, gravelly scrape in the cold air.

I used to say his name like a prayer. "Cassian, they're wrapping my scene, I'm coming over for dinner! Cassian, you've been in New York for a week. When are you coming home?

Cassian, I miss you." Six years of dead silence, yet the desperate, sickeningly sweet tone of my own voice echoed perfectly in my skull. A pathetic, phantom ache flared in my chest.

I killed it instantly. I offered him a flawless, empty smile. "Monroe mentioned the wedding. Using your first name now feels like crossing a massive boundary.

Congratulations." His jaw clenched. "You honestly think a wedding is still happening now?" Even if Monroe happily played stepmother to secure the bag, her oldmoney family wouldn't swallow the public humiliation.

A secret baby scandal completely derailed their perfect corporate merger. I ruined his life.

Again. "I'm sorry," I said, the apology a reflexive shield. "Where is the kid?" The phantom child. The secret the entire internet just watched me carry. Darkness bled into his tone.

A dangerous, suffocating pressure. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant back then?" Because I didn't know.

Not until after the foundation of us had already turned to rubble. "I didn't want a pregnancy to complicate things between you and Monroe." A vicious, ugly sneer twisted his mouth. "You hid it for six years, and the internet just exploded with it anyway.

Did it complicate things any less, Maeve?" "I'm sorry." The words tasted like chalk. I had absolutely nothing else to give him.

Back when we first sparked, industry insiders warned me. They said Cassian liked his women docile. Obedient. I never knew how to play the good girl.

I was young, stupid, and intoxicated by him. I thought we were endgame. You can't fake docility for a lifetime.

I pushed his buttons, threw absolute tantrums, and demanded his attention. He never knew how to soothe me, but he never punished me for it either.

I would burn out my rage, and we would go back to normal. I used to be so vibrant and full of fire. I burned so brightly. Now, the woman standing in front of him was hollowed out.

Polished stone. Nothing left to break. He stepped closer, invading my space. The scent of cedar and freezing rain hit my senses. "Where. Is. The.

Kid?" he demanded, punctuating every single word. "There is no child." The second I saw those two pink lines six years ago, my decision crystallized.

A man incapable of loving me would never love a child I brought into this world. And I absolutely refused to raise a kid in the shadow of his rejection.

So I terminated the pregnancy. Cassian recoiled. He flinched, his tall frame going completely rigid. The glacial, dead stare finally broke.

A flash of genuine pain broke through his cold stare. A sharp, broken intake of breath tore from his throat