The Devil's Favourite Obsession

Chapter 200: Cixi wouldn’t let anyone insult Cassian - 1

Marion did not know whether she could trust a man who belonged to the mafia, and the more Binge spoke, the more that question pressed itself into her mind with a frightening persistence.

It was not only Binge standing before her with that composed face, speaking as though he understood her marriage better than she did.

It was Zoyar also who was appearing at the cafe with too much willingness to help or keeping an eye on Lily in the name of love.

Binge was somehow keeping an eye on her family from another side, and it was the unsettling way her ordinary circle of friends had begun to brush up against people who should never have belonged anywhere near them.

When had her life become tangled with men like this?

The club had been a mistake. Marion understood that now, with the heaviness of someone who had arrived at a conclusion too late.

They should never have gone there. If she thought deeply, if she stripped away the shock and humiliation and the strange comfort Binge had offered her, she could see how careless it had been.

That one night had opened a door, and through that door had come names, favours, warnings, and men who knew far too much about her life.

What if all of it was a lie?

What if Binge was only using sympathy to step closer?

What if Martin truly had not made any mistakes, but Binge was twisting into something uglier because he wanted Marion separated from her husband for god knows what reason?

She couldn’t think Binge likes her. Who would want to be with a woman in her 40s with three children? No man would be interested in her. As Martin said, she is average-looking and not as attractive as she used to be in her prime.

Binge had spoken of Martin being with other women, and for a moment, Marion had felt as though the floor beneath her had cracked open. Her marriage had not been happy for a long time. Martin had grown distant, impatient, and careless with words that had once been gentle.

There were days when Marion felt like nothing more than a worker inside her own home, a woman who cooked, cleaned, cared for the children, and received nothing but complaints in return. Yet cheating was different. Cheating was a cruelty she had never allowed herself to imagine from him.

Martin could be harsh. He could be blind. He could forget her tears and take her labour for granted. But he would not betray their marriage like that.

Never.

Binge’s suggestion kept circling in her thoughts, irritating her each time it returned. He wanted her to move out with her children, to give space to her husband, to let Martin understand her value in his life by feeling her absence. He had said it as though it was some wise strategy, as though marriage was a childish game where one person disappeared simply to make the other miss them.

Miss her?

The idea almost made Marion laugh, but there was no humour left inside her. She was married to Martin. They had three children. Their decisions could not be treated like a temporary break between two lovers who had grown tired of one another and wanted to test who cared more. Every step she took would touch her children first. Every mistake would become their burden.

She lifted her eyes to Binge, and this time there was no trembling in her voice. "I am married to my husband, and we have three children," she retorted, each word steadier than the last. "This is not the kind of break people take when a relationship is not working out. Our decisions affect our children. If I leave with them, their whole life changes with me. Their school, their home, their routine, their father, everything. And how can I even trust you enough to believe you will not bring harm to me and my children? You are not an ordinary man, Binge. You are asking me to make a decision that could ruin my family, and I do not even understand why I am discussing my marriage with you in the first place. How can I trust anything you say about my husband?"

For the first time since their conversation began, Binge did not answer immediately. He simply watched her, and the quietness of his expression unsettled Marion because it was not anger she saw there. It was not even an offence. It was as though he had expected this resistance and respected her more for showing it.

That made her trust him even less.

When a dangerous man became patient, it was rarely because he had no intentions.

Binge eventually nodded, slowly, as though he understood the line she had drawn. Then his gaze moved away from her and settled on the open sky beyond the terrace. A few birds cut across the blue, their wings catching the late light as they moved freely from one side of the palace grounds to the other.

Marion followed his gaze for a brief moment and wondered, bitterly, whether freedom always looked beautiful only from a distance.

"Whenever you reach the point where you no longer know where to go, you know how to reach me. But if you decide to stay blind, Marion, then I cannot help you."

He did not wait for her answer. He turned and left, leaving her alone on the terrace with more questions than before.

Marion remained where she was, her fingers curled tightly. She wanted to dismiss everything he had said. She wanted to tell herself he had lied, that Martin had not been with other women, that Binge’s sudden presence in her life was nothing more than a strange coincidence.

Yet the longer she stood there, the harder it became to ignore the fear spreading quietly through her chest.

Because if Binge was lying, then he was dangerous.

But if he was telling the truth, then Marion’s life had already broken long before she noticed.

*

Back at the Palace, the conversation between Emily and Cixi was beginning to stress Cixi out in a way that made her want to press both palms against her temples and scream into them.

Emily had come to her with complaints, frustration, pride, anger, and that sharp Crown-family arrogance that seemed to sit naturally in her spine, yet somehow, from all possible subjects, the conversation had returned to Rafael. The man could be absent from the room, absent from the corridor, absent from the entire Palace, and still his name managed to arrive like an unwanted guest.

"Could we not talk about Rafael?" Cixi whisper-screamed, lowering her voice so sharply that the sentence came out more strained than quiet.

Emily’s eyebrow rose with immediate suspicion. "Why?" she asked, and before Cixi could decide how to answer, Emily was already turning her head from one side to the other, scanning the room as though Rafael might be hiding behind the curtains, beneath the sofa, or inside the walls. "Is someone here?"

Cixi stared at her in disbelief. "Why would someone be here?"

Emily’s eyes narrowed further at Cixi. "Did you let Rafael enter your room?"

Emily is definitely typing a death certificate for Rafael, Cixi thought. She need to talk to Cassian once Emily is gone.

She was already panicking because of too many things at once happening— her belly, her alien baby, and now Emily had added another unreasonable accusation onto her head as though Cixi had been waiting all morning for it.

"Why would Rafael come here?" she demanded, though she hated that her voice sounded defensive. She did not want to defend Rafael. She was not in the mood to defend anyone. "Rafael is not that bad. He has a fiancee."