Chapter 12

Men like Theodore left the most distinct stroke in the tapestry of time with his appearance. He was nearly impossible to forget even after a single encounter, not to mention that he'd been Cassandra's rival, equal, and sharp edge that met her own. Even their professor, Peter Barton, had once teasingly called them a rare pair of brilliant rivals, destined to never coexist. Now, as Theodore's tall, refined figure drew closer, his dark tailored suit accentuated his sharp facial features. He was reminiscent of a classical statue with an almost untouchable, divine air. He was even more dangerous than he'd been seven years ago, calmer and deeper, like a vortex that could swallow one whole without stirring a ripple. Right now, all Cassandra wanted was to run. What could be worse than running into her former sworn enemy when she was at her lowest and when he was clearly thriving? If he recognized her in this state, he'd probably laugh himself awake, judging from how much he despised her…