The Saintess Chose The Wrong Man

Chapter 10

Every step faltered the moment Cassian stepped forward.

The escorts slowed. Then stopped.

The man stopped too.

He wore a faint, polite smile—the kind reserved for faces you might recognize but can’t quite place. He waited, curious enough… but not impressed.

“Hello,” Cassian said smoothly. “I’m Cassian. I understand you have something important to attend to in a few minutes. A lot of kids’ lives are about to be shaped forever by your decision tonight.” He smiled, generous, measured. “That’s why I won’t insist on the coffee I suggested earlier.”

“Oh,” the man nodded.

Coffee?

He had no recollection of that.

“I came with a friend’s kid,” Cassian continued, stepping slightly closer. “To show support. He has the most intelligent idea in this room. Truly brilliant. Not choosing him would be a waste of your time—and frankly, a discouragement to his very real dream of studying at Yale.”

The man regarded him for a brief second.

“I shall see,” he said calmly—and resumed walking.

Cassian didn’t move aside.

Instead, he closed the distance again.

“By the way,” he added lightly, “what’s your daughter’s name again? I saw her once and—I’ll be honest—I fell in love. I’m thinking marriage plans.”

The man stopped.

This time, he stepped back.

The smile vanished.

Irritation settled plainly on his face.

“What,” he asked slowly, “are you getting at?”

Oh, shit, Cassian thought. Did he just… cross a line? The flicker in the man’s eyes—sharp, cold—told him everything. This wasn’t going how he wanted.

“Your daughter… I mean, she’s a very beautiful woman—your face, everything—”

“She looks exactly like her mother,” the man cut in sharply.

Cassian froze for a split second. “Oh, yeah. I mean… yes. She does,” he stammered, already sensing the tide turning against him.

Still, he shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to salvage bravado. “To be frank… I want to marry your daughter. Give me her number—I’ll call her right now.”

“First off,” the man said, voice calm but firm, “I don’t see you as a fitting husband for my daughter. Second… if you think you can match even half the merit of the men she’s turned down, good luck getting her number. Lot of voicemail waiting for you.”

Cassian opened his mouth—“I was just…”—but the man was already walking away, dismissive.

Panic flashed through Cassian’s chest. He couldn’t let this end like this.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lombard striding toward the front doors like he owned the whole damn place. That smug bastard.

No. Tonight, he was going to crush him. Show him exactly what it meant to cross a Belmont.

Throwing pride aside, Cassian lunged forward and bolted after the man.

“Sir… I guess you’re already offended,” Cassian panted, trying to match the man’s pace. “But all I’m saying is… you should consider this kid. I already sent your PA his name.”.

“A message?” the PA asked, confused as if it were a foreign language. Then he glanced at Cassian. “You sent me a message?”

“No, please… this isn’t a joking matter,” Cassian tried, heart racing.

“I didn’t get your message, Cassian. If I had, I wouldn’t have said I didn’t,” the PA said sternly.

The man shot Cassian a warning glance.

“I… I can’t lie about that,” Cassian admitted, fumbling with his phone. He quickly pulled up the messages and forwarded them. Yep—total mix-up. He’d sent them to another PA entirely. Names got crossed. Classic.

The man stared at him, then, with a cold, “don’t cross my path again” glare, turned and started walking away.

“You almost got me in trouble!” the PA hissed at Cassian before sprinting to catch up with the man.

Cassian didn’t feel embarrassed—yet. Wait… if he wasn’t the one who sent that message that made the PA reorder the schools, then who did? Someone else was pulling strings. And whoever it was… had to be from his friend’s school.

He dashed inside immediately, cutting through the crowd before the break ended.

“Hey,” he called over to the kid, who was cautiously sipping his drink. The other students from his school wouldn’t even dare touch water, nerves rattled like crazy.

“Is there a problem, Cassian?” the boy’s father asked.

“There might be,” Cassian said sharply. “I need the full list of names of the other students presenting alongside your son—right now.”

“Um…” the father glanced at his son, who was now happily digging into his steak, sauce smeared across his mouth. The kid shrugged, oblivious.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “I need it now.”

He made a quick call, rushed out everything he had to say.

“Sir, we checked through everyone, no one has the connection to pull this off. The only person odd is Lombard August. And he was seen having a talk with the man in his car just a few seconds ago.”