The Saintess Chose The Wrong Man

Chapter 7

Cassian rose from his seat.

“A joke seems to be happening tonight,” he said lightly, already walking toward Abigail’s table. His eyes never left the man beside her. “Lombard August?”

Lombard lifted his head mid-drink and looked at him.

That look.

It irritated Cassian more than Lombard’s presence itself. The audacity of him being here was one thing—but the calm? The familiarity in his eyes, like they were… equals?

“You’re going to tell me what you’re doing here,” Cassian said, carefully schooling his face into something pleasant. Abigail was watching.

“Your sister’s pregnant,” Lombard replied. “Three months.”

Cassian blinked. “Yeah. So?”

Lombard let out a short, humorless scoff. “So I was the only fucking idiot who didn’t know?”

Cassian’s lips curved. “So you agree—you’re a fucking idiot?”

Their eyes locked.

Abigail shifted in her seat. She had no idea what history sat between these two men, but the air between them was tight, volatile—like one wrong word would shatter the room.

“I found out two hours ago,” Lombard continued, his voice flat. “I broke up with her. Which means I’m done with the baggage that comes with her.”

A pause.

“And by baggage, I mean her family.”

Disgust laced every syllable.

Cassian smiled slowly. Then he turned to Abigail.

“You came with a family friend?” he asked, voice smooth, curious.

“She’s here with me,” Lombard cut in before Abigail could speak.

“Well,” Cassian said mildly, “I might have to borrow her for tonight. Time spent with me will be far more productive than helping a man clean up the emotional mess of losing the best thing that ever happened to him.”

His gaze never left Lombard.

“Guys,” Abigail cut in quickly, her voice low but urgent. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know what’s going on between you two, but can we please stop? There are kids here.”

“Choose,” Cassian said calmly. “Spend the night expanding your network—or stay behind and wipe the tears of a man who just lost everything.”

“No—please don’t do this,” Abigail said, shaking her head. “Please.”

“I’ll take my leave,” Cassian said, already stepping back, satisfaction curling in his smile. “I can practically see the tears forming.”

Then, with practiced confidence, he added, “Abigail, we can talk later.”

“You can reach out to my PA,” Abigail said coolly, cutting straight through him, “if you think there’s anything we need to talk about.”

The shift was instant.

If she’d said it in private, Cassian could’ve brushed it off.

But she said it here.

In front of Lombard..

“I get the coded message,” Cassian said quickly, forcing a laugh, scrambling to make it seem mutual—like an inside joke between old friends. “I hear you.”

“No, Cassian,” Abigail said plainly. “There’s no message. And I don’t have anything to discuss with you.”

Cassian smiled—and turned to leave.

Then he stopped.

He retraced his steps slowly, like he’d remembered something pleasant.

“I wasn’t going to say this,” he said mildly, “because I thought we’d meet again under better circumstances. But don’t forget to pay back the one hundred thousand dollars you borrowed from me a month ago.”

Abigail’s head snapped toward Lombard.

“In your dreams?” Lombard said coolly. “That’s where I borrowed the money?”

Cassian laughed softly. “You came to me with a contract. Borrowed seventy thousand. I’ll forward it to you.” His eyes hardened. “Don’t be a thief.”

He walked away, rage simmering just beneath his calm exterior. The moment he reached his seat, he sent the file.

Lombard didn’t even get the chance to open it before Finn came rushing back, breathless, panic written all over his face.

“Someone important just arrived,” Finn said quickly. “I have to get the award he’s offering—it’ll be part of my essay. I need to introduce you as my parents. To everyone.”

Fear sat naked in his eyes.

They hadn’t been paying attention earlier. They missed the MC announcing the arrival.

“Please,” Finn begged, turning to Abigail. “We have to do this. There won’t be any implications.”

Of course there would be.

Because at the other end of the hall, Cassian was watching.

Boiling.

He’d arrived with the parents of one of his… connections. Not friends—just people worth keeping close. That was how it worked.

The man’s son rushed over excitedly. “Dad! The man I told you about is here. If I get the award, I can add it to my essay.”

“You’ll get it,” his father said confidently. “That’s why we came.”

“I thought so too,” the boy admitted. “Until Finn showed up with his parents. His dad is like a walking Ivy League handbook. Everyone’s talking about it. He’ll get it.”

Cassian’s lips curved into a slow scoff.

“And who’s Finn?” he asked.

“That’s him.” The boy pointed toward Lombard’s table.

Cassian followed the direction.

Oh.

That kid.

So Finn was Lombard’s shield tonight.

Cassian smiled.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning down toward the boy. “Did your father ever tell you who I am?”

The boy shook his head.

“My name is Cassian Belmont,” Cassian continued smoothly. “And the Belmont family?”

He straightened his cuffs.

“This is what we live for.”