You would think that after all the long, secretive years and the sneaking around, Oliver and I would be in a rush to finally tell everyone we were married so we could live a normal life as a couple once and for all.

But the truth did set you free sometimes, in some unexpected way.

Once we'd laid our cards down and still somehow ended up together, we lost the burden to establish the facts with everyone in some misguided effort to somewhat reinforce them. That in telling other people, you were convincing yourself of the reality you had to live with.

And we didn't need convincing.

Not anymore.

We knew what we started with, what we went through, what we lost and gained, what we still have together.

We didn't have to announce it to the world in some grand or shocking fashion.

We were alright.

I came home at the beginning of October for a couple of weeks and spent most of it with Oliver, temporarily living at his family's big old home where we started planning renovations. We were hoping to move in there around spring, once the place had been refurnished and brightened up again. We decided to wait until the holidays to tell our closest family and friends just because I had to fly back to Paris at the end of the month to finish the first ever official wedding gown for my line. I was dressing the niece of Monaco's current reigning monarch so it was critical for me to see the whole thing through, including staying for the wedding which was happening right around Thanksgiving.

I was scheduled to come home in the first week of December and I made a point not to travel anywhere else until early March. It would give us plenty of time to talk to people, organize some paperwork and hopefully start the renovations.

But I hadn't even been in Paris for a week when Dad called me in what I could only describe as complete, almost comical, hysteria.

After twenty-two years of a fruitless and frustrating search, Dad found my baby sister—Cassandra.

And apparently dating Sebastian Vice of all people!

"What do you mean he looks like he's whipped?" I demanded on the phone with Oliver. "I don't speak playboy!"

I was pacing the room in the chateau that we'd specifically reserved for working on this gown from a year ago when the princess came to do the final consultation. No one had seen this gown other than myself, since I handmade most of it, and the few staff that had been working on the intricate beading and embroidery in the last several months. I could sit in this room for hours and get lost in my work but Dad's call had gotten me all riled up that I couldn't keep still. Even if this was a rant I already had with Stellan just five minutes ago.

Oliver sighed. "I don't either and you know what whipped is because that's what every man is around you including me—especially me."

I narrowed my eyes into a frown. "Well, what I know of the word doesn't make me inclined to believe that it's applicable to Sebastian. He's a womanizer."

"So is Max."

"Max is at least charming and considerate to the ladies, no matter how many of them he's currently seeing," I debated. "Sebastian just cycles through them like he cycles through all his white dress shirts. They look all the same to him and as long as they function like they're supposed to, he doesn't give a fuck. Oh, wait, he does but that's all he gives them—a fuck. Nothing more of him, nothing less."

"That's harsh, Viv, even from you. Even about Sebastian."

"It's my baby sister we're talking about here, Oliver!"

"She's twenty-two so she's not a baby anymore," he argued back. "And she already has history with Sebastian. She's the same Cassandra he's been trying to shake off from his memory years ago."

I halted. "You've known they've been involved this whole time and you didn't tell me?"

"I just knew the woman's name was Cassandra. Not that she's the Cassandra who happens to be your sister! Sebastian didn't make the connection either."

I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to sort out my wild, spinning emotions and trying to find the sense that was in there somewhere.

"Are you sure he's not going to hurt her?" I finally, reluctantly and resentfully, asked.

"I can't promise you that because even people with the best of intentions can still fuck up," Oliver said gently. "But what I can tell you is that I have a very good feeling the Sebastian you're going to see when you get back here isn't quite the same Sebastian you know. And that counts for something."

"He could just be a sulkier Sebastian," I grumbled. "God knows if there's another level to that attitude, he'd be the first to discover it."

"Oh, he's still moody," Oliver agreed, amusement in his voice. "But he's going to move heaven and earth for her if he has to. I'm familiar with the feeling. I know what it looks like when you see it in someone's eyes. I've seen it in mine for years."

My heart squeezed and I smiled, finally plopping down a leather trunk where the accessories of the wedding gown—veil, gloves and garters—were safely and luxuriously stored. "That does make me feel better about it. But Sebastian better not be selfish and keep her all to himself considering how accessible he's been to us lately. If I have to fight him for her, I will."

Oliver chuckled. "Your father and Stellan will get to him first."

I sighed out loud, slowly resigning myself to the fact that my sister was alive and well and probably well-versed in the art of loving a complicated man no one could protect her from.

I know it all too well.

"Do you think now is the right time to tell them then?" I asked quietly.

There was no pause on Oliver's side. "We can tell them whenever you want us to tell them. All I care about is that we're together and we're happy. And we are, aren't we?"

I smiled. "Yes, we are."

"Maybe let's wait until you and your family have recovered from this shock," he continued. "It's a lot to take in, especially for your sister who apparently didn't seem to have a clue about her real history."

"History makes a big difference."

"It does," Oliver agreed and I could imagine him smiling. "It redefines the present you're looking at now and the kind of future that could come out of it."

"Just like our history weighed in on us in our years apart," I added. "Just like it allowed us to hang on for a just a little bit longer when others would've hightailed at our situation."

"We'll be alright, Viv," he said softly. "Just come home soon, okay?"

"I will," I promised. "For now, please tell Sebastian that if he hurts my sister, I will gleefully dig him a hole where I'll bury him alive under fast-curing concrete. Thanks."

Oliver laughed. "Such a sweet, fiercely loyal sister you are."

"Of course. Duh."

***

It was hard to put my plan of burying Sebastian under fast-drying concrete into action.

Oh, the concrete was available and with a little recon, I could've found a sufficiently deep enough crevice on this earth where he could spend his eternal unrest. The critical piece I was missing was Sebastian himself.

He disappeared on my sister, the jerk, but like any proud Cartwright, she handled it with squared shoulders and the stubborn determination not to fall apart. Unfortunately, I knew all too well what that was like behind the admirable front—a lot of pain, a lot of open nerves that felt way too much.

So my return to Cobalt Bay in the beginning of December had been focused on welcoming Cassandra into the family and making sure she knew we were there during this difficult time. Without my asking, Oliver gave me all the time and space I needed to deal with my family first. Our confession would have to wait for just a little bit longer.

And maybe with Cassandra's appearance and on-going difficulties in her complicated relationship with Sebastian distracting everyone, no one paid me and Oliver much mind and we liked that just fine.

We may not have been able to tell anyone our secret but our daily lives weren't on hold. I was pretty much permanently living in the hotel penthouse with him, and coming and going places with him most of the time that had circumstances been a little different, we would've gotten a ton of questions by now. People may have been used to seeing us together a lot to remark on every occasion but we had definitely been less reserved and discreet about the fact that were together.

The only one who asked was Cassandra and this was just shortly after Sebastian found his balls again to man up and seal the deal with my sister.

"I don't want to intrude but are you and Oliver..." Cassandra trailed off as she leaned her head down slightly so I could adjust where the veil was pinned to her hair. "Like, are you two together together?"

Thankfully, her maid-of-honor and bridesmaids had just left the room before she blurted that out. I paused and peered at my sister through the fine silk mesh of the veil. "Do you think we are?"

Cassandra pouted and for a second, she really looked like Dad when he disapproved. She had distinct features that were her own but lined up next to me and Stellan, no one would dispute that we were definitely related.

"Sometimes, I'm not sure if you're being mysterious just because you're really mysterious or because you just enjoy tormenting others," she said with a sigh.

I laughed. "Maybe it's a little from column A, a little from column B."

"And you're good at evading," Cassandra pointed out. "Like you are right now."

Well, I had years and years of practice. You get good at it.

I smiled at my sister. "What Oliver and I are, is complicated. But it's not what I want you to think of when you're about to say your vows to Sebastian."

The happy calm that came over Cassandra's face was instantaneous.

There was no question how much she loved Sebastian and from what I'd seen of the man recently, after he returned from Tokyo, I was appeased to realize he was just as head over heels.

"How do I look, Viv?" she asked, turning slightly to look at herself on the mirror.

Sebastian's private yacht was spacious and laden with luxury but the room where I was helping her get ready was nothing like my vast fitting rooms with their huge curved panels of mirrors and natural lighting.

"You look incredibly beautiful," I said as I came to stand next to her and study her reflection in the mirror. "And you have that glow mothers-to-be have."

"I'm pretty sure that's just makeup," Cassandra said with a chuckle as she gently moved her hand down the small swell of her belly that the empire cut of the dress covered elegantly. "I haven't been getting the best sleep lately."

Tears stung my eyes but I quickly blinked them back. "Whatever the pains are right now, they'll be worth it when the baby's born. You'll gladly go through them again just to have him or her."

Something must've been odd in my tone because Cassandra gave me a curious sideways glance. "Thanks, Viv. I'm sure you'll be a wonderful aunt. And definitely an amazing mother when it's your turn one day."

My chest tightened with the sob I was suppressing so I just wrapped my arms around my sister for a quick hug. "You will be too. Now, let's stop getting so emotional because your groom's impatient and we don't have time to re-do mascara."

We laughed and pulled ourselves together before Lexie came through the door to see if we were ready. She said Sebastian agreed to five minutes before he'd come down himself to procure his bride. I told Lexie to tell her brother to shove it and Cassandra would be up whenever she was ready. And my sister was ready. Almost in a giddy rush.

So on a beautiful, sunny day in January, Oliver and I, along with family and close friends, surrounded Cassandra and Sebastian as they exchanged vows on the top deck of Marianna which had been named after Sebastian's mother.

It was a happily-ever-after—one we haven't seen in a long time. One that would hopefully start many more, including ours.

"I think we should have another wedding," Oliver murmured to me later as we danced slowly after the intimate dinner reception. We were off to a quiet side of the deck, out of earshot of the small handful of guests who were drinking and chatting and dancing the evening away. "It could be small if you want it to be but we should have a proper one."

I smiled and raised a brow. "You think that if I get a second shot at a wedding, I'm going to do it small?"

Oliver grinned. "You can do it however you like. You're running the show."

"You can bet I am," I said before leaning down to rest my cheek on his chest, letting Oliver move us around to the soft sway of the music.

From across the room, I caught Dad's gaze and just smiled when he raised his brows and turned his hands up as if to ask 'What the fuck is going on?'

I shifted to my other cheek, closing my eyes as Oliver's arms tightened around me. "I think I want a smaller wedding. Just so that our family and friends could be part of it. But I don't need to show the whole world. Just those who should know."

"I like that," Oliver murmured. "I've also been thinking..."

I looked up when he didn't continue. "What?"

"I've been thinking if we should somehow mark a place for Theodore here... where our family is," he said, his voice a little gruff. "I want him to know that he's always a part of it."

I bit my lip and nodded. "That would be nice. I carry his memory everywhere but it would be nice to have a place for him here too."

"We'll have to tell them about him," Oliver said, tipping his chin toward where our family and friends were mostly clustered.

"We will," I said, catching Dad's gaze again before he rolled his eyes at us.

I smiled. "I think we should do it right after Dad's birthday. I'm ready for the secrets to be over. I'm ready for us to live our lives."

I watched as Sebastian lifted my sister up in the air and twirled her slightly on the dance floor to the cheers of everyone. "I'm ready for our own happily-ever-after."

***

I put my cup of tea down before I could drop it on the floor.

Taking a deep breath, I looked hard at the pictures again, telling myself to focus not on the the truth they made obvious because it was a truth I already knew, but on any clues they could give me about the sender.

Oliver was young in these pictures—probably around seventeen or eighteen. Oh, the man he was going to become was already quite evident in his sleek build and symmetrical face, but there was still an innocence to him that these provocative positions couldn't belie.

One was of Oliver was sitting on a bed with nothing more than the silk sheets draped around his hips. Another one was of him standing completely naked with his wrists bound from straps dangling down the ceiling. He had a shiny black half-mask on but there was no mistaking him. The third one was shrouded in heavy smoke and hazy fluorescent colors with a number of naked bodies—mostly women—heaped on a bed, a naked Oliver standing just off to the side, his hand wrapped around his cock, his face illuminated in a shaft of purple light. The only thing that came with the three pictures was a single sheet of plain paper with the following words printed on it: Who's the dirty secret now?

My fingers tightened on the manila envelope they came in, delivered by one of the staff from the front desk.

This shouldn't surprise me.

Oliver had once been a master at blackmail himself.

And it's come back to haunt him.

I looked up at the sound of the door swinging open. "I'm in here."

Half a minute later, Oliver popped his head through the doorway of the study, his brows furrowed in concern. "I came as quickly as I could. What's going on?"

He'd been at Mad Alley to watch one of Sav's fights and I was supposed to meet him there as soon as I'd changed into something else after arriving home from my studio.

I leaned back against the chair and wordlessly swept a hand over the pictures on the table. Oliver came forward, his expression growing arctic as he took in the images. I could almost hear his jaw grinding.

"Where did you get these?" he asked, lifting the manila envelope where his name had been scribbled on the outside with a black marker. I didn't recognize the handwriting.

"It was left on the front desk, just off the to the side," I told him. "They didn't see who'd left it but they brought it up anyway."

"If they didn't see who was by the front desk, then they're not doing their job well," he bit out, the envelope crumpling in his hand. "I can look through the security cam footage. I'll get on it right away."

"Do you really need to or do you already know who it is?" I asked, picking up the note and extending it toward him. "Who is it Oliver?"

Oliver took the note and crumpled it too, his voice so even and cold it sent a shiver down my spine. "Thalia."

"But I thought she's rusticating in a treatment clinic somewhere mid-West being looked after by her aunt," I said, recalling the details Oliver had provided me later when I thought to ask him again about the woman.

"That's her last known whereabouts but the last time I checked on her was two years ago," he said through gritted teeth. "But she's the only one who could possibly have these photos. These were her little parties and no one else was allowed to bring cameras and recorders."

I glanced down at the photos, my heart twisting. "Just what kind of parties did she drag you into, Oliver?"

"Ones I've managed to forget for a good long while now."

"Why can't she forget about them?" I asked. "It's been years."

"Because Thalia thinks I'm still the gullible teenager I'd been when I first met her. She still thinks she has power over me. The fact that I left her—twice—never sat well with her. Then I went ahead and botched her very financially comfortable marriage."

My heart lurched. "Thalia was that woman you told me about—the rich, older woman who took you down that path the first time."

Oliver nodded stiffly. "She thinks she gave me everything that I now have. She thinks she's the only one who can take it away. That I can't possibly be the one to up and leave."

I swallowed hard against the acrid burn in my throat. "And why did you leave her the first time?"

"The stone-cold answer?" Oliver asked. "I needed variety. I needed different connections and different kinds of leverage. The women I pursued after her were all strategically targeted."

"And what's the other answer?" I ventured even as my heart pounded hard in my chest.

Oliver grimaced. "My conscience. Not because of what I was doing to Thalia. It was because of the things she kept pushing at me to do with her. Things I couldn't stomach no matter the price."

"What things?"

Oliver shook his head.

"What was the last straw, Oliver?" I pressed despite knowing better. "Tell me. I need to know how deep this runs."

Agitated, Oliver started to pace. "One night, I came to see her and she'd brought in this pair of brother and sister from the streets. Couldn't be more than a year apart. Probably around fourteen, fifteen. They were poor and starving and jumpy from needing a fix. She wanted them to do things we could watch. She wanted us to do things to them too."

Oliver stopped in his tracks and squeezed his eyes close as if he were in pain. "And they were going to let us do whatever we wanted because she'd promised them money."

I shuddered and instantly regretted asking.

These were memories now, yes, but they were things that actually happened in the past. Things that Oliver was a part of, things that would be part of Oliver for a long time.

"I gave them money and told them to get out," he continued. "Then I told her I wanted nothing to do with her."

He looked at me with a half-defiant, half-desperate expression as if to promise that he would hold himself together against whatever I had to say.

"You did the right thing, Oliver," I said quietly.

"Sometimes, the right thing isn't everything that's required," he said as he whipped out his cellphone to call a number. "God help her when I find her again."

I watched as Oliver barked orders to a couple people on the phone to pull the front desk security footage and locate Thalia. He was furious, his cheeks a harsh shade of red and his eyes glinting dangerously in the light. Then as soon as he hung up, he grabbed the pictures and marched out of the room.

I scrambled to my feet to follow him and skidded to a stop when I saw a large lick of flame shoot up from the stone kitchen sink, flickering shadows over Oliver's stony expression.

Slowly, I walked up to him, touching him gently on the arm as he continued to watch the photos burn into ashes. "Oliver, it's alright."

"I never wanted you to see me like that," he said in a low, rough voice. "It was hard enough to tell you. I'm not that man anymore, Viv."

Tears stung my eyes. "I know that. I'm not judging you."

His smile was small and bitter. "Ah. If I could only stop judging myself. If I could only stop being ashamed of it."

"Oliver, look at me," I said, tugging on his arm until his head swivelled over to me. He looked so distant and lost. My fingers dug deeper into his arm. "It's in the past. Thalia can try her damned best to bring it back but it's not going to change anything between us. Do you understand?"

He squinted down at me. "How can you look at me and not think you deserve better than this?"

I reached up to cup each side of his face. "Because you're not just this, Oliver. You're more than your past mistakes. We all are."

He closed his eyes and yanked me hard against him, his large hand cradling the back of my head. "I'm going to take care of this, Viv. I promise it won't ever touch you again."

A week later, just as preparations for Dad's party was underway with me and Cassandra planning all the details, Oliver received some shocking news.

Wesley Greaves was found stabbed to death in his home in a suspected burglary and Thalia had disappeared.

***

So, what do you guys think? 

I know I'm a bit earlier than the normal schedule but I wanted to do something to make me feel better. In the span of a week, the world had gotten so much bleaker. If you follow the news, you probably know what I'm talking about. It echoes loudly for me because I'm an immigrant myself and coming out here opened my eyes to just how big the world is but how close people could still be. Even just being here in Wattpad with its global mix of writers and readers makes it very clear that we've come a long way. It's a shame to take humanity several decades back but it is the reality today. But this battle can still be fought and love can still win. 

Anyway, enough of that. I try not to be political in my writing space but we all live in this world and we all have a duty to it. That's all.

Hope you had a good little preview of Cassandra and Sebastian here. Stay tuned next week for the last chapter! 

XOXO,

Ninya

P.S. I thought this was a good song for Oliver. We don't know the full details of the depraved path he'd traversed and it's probably better that way. Just glad he's found his way out of it.

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Recovery by James Arthur ♪♪♪

I don't want to play this game no more

I don't wanna play it

I don't want to stay 'round here no more

I don't wanna stay here

Like rain on a Monday morning

Like pain that just keeps on going on

Look at all the hate they keep on showing

I don't want to see that

Look at all the stones they keep on throwing

I don't want to feel that

Like sun that will keep on burning

I used to be so discerning, oh

In my recovery

I'm a soldier at war

I have broken down walls

I defined

I designed

My recovery

In the sound of the sea

In the oceans of me

I defined

I designed

My recovery