Cassandra found herself at a restaurant, waiting for Rachel. Lunch plans had been made since it was a half day at work, and Cassandra agreed to accompany Rachel for a meal. Soon enough, Rachel entered the restaurant with her usual vivacity, waving at the manager as she made her way over. Ofcourse she knows the manager, Cassandra thinks. Classic extroverted Rachel.

"Hope I didn't make you wait long for me, darling," Rachel said with a grin, taking her seat.

"Nah, just a couple of eternities,"

Cassandra replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Rachel's loud laughter drew a few curious glances from other patrons. Cassandra couldn't help but think that Rachel was too lively to be just a colleague.

After some small talk, Cassandra shifted the conversation. "What are you planning to wear for the event?"

Rachel's eyes sparkled as she leaned in. "I've got this metallic dress I've been dying to wear. Oh by the way, your research was liked by Lyla Harpers"

Cassandra's excitement surged like an electric shock. "What? Really?"

Rachel shot her a look of surprise, her mouth half-full with food. probably thinking why she's so surprised.

Cassandra's eyes widened, and she struggled to maintain her composure. "I mean, how do you know?"

Rachel nonchalantly continued chewing her food. "Well, the devil herself told me personally."

A laugh escaped Cassandra's lips, and she quickly stifled it. "You're lucky she doesn't hear you call her the devil."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You seem into her."

"Just trying to impress the boss, you know, job security,"

Cassandra said with a chuckle, though deep down, her fascination with Lyla went beyond just job security. Lyla exuded the kind of control over her image that Cassandra envied—a control she wished she could wield over how others perceived her.

Curiosity drove Cassandra to probe further. "Why do people call her the devil?"

Rachel leaned back, taking a sip of her drink. "She's made quite a few questionable decisions, like firing people on a whim, and she has a knack for passive-aggressive comments about people's appearance. But let me tell you, the real devil is her husband."

Cassandra's surprise was palpable. "Her husband?"

Rachel nodded, her expression growing more serious. "Yes, her husband. That man might seem all collected and smooth, but I can tell he holds some kind of power over her. Sometimes it feels like whatever she does, he's the puppeteer pulling the strings. But who am I to speculate? All I know is that in this world, it's always easier to label the woman as the devil."

Cassandra fell into silence, her mind churning with Rachel's words.

"Hey," Rachel whispered, leaning closer, "don't turn around, but someone's been staring at you for quite a while."

Cassandra's heart raced, a cold knot forming in her stomach. Mal's room, the unlocked door, her vulnerability—it all flooded back.

"Who?" she managed to whisper, barely audible.

"Some man who looks like he's homeless or something. It's creepy," Rachel responded.

Cassandra knew without looking who it was. It had to be Will.

Feeling a sudden urgency, Cassandra had to leave the restaurant quickly, sensing Will would follow her. She called an Uber and managed to escape the prying eyes. Once in the car, her phone buzzed with a notification from an unknown number. The text read-

"I see you."