Page 22 of Sexting the Silverfox Daddy

Cassie

Lately, things had been too quiet.

I wasn't sure when it started, but the days in the estate felt…

empty. I sat on the window seat in my room, staring out at the endless stretch of woods beyond the grounds, a weird restlessness gnawing at me.

Two months ago, I was scraping by, stressing over rent and Mom's medical bills, practicing my violin in secret, dreaming of a stage I'd probably never see.

Life was tough, but I knew who I was, what I was fighting for.

Now? I wasn't so sure.

Every day was the same. Wake up, head downstairs for breakfast, play with Anya for a bit, and then… nothing. Just waiting. For what, I didn't even know.

Gennady had been swamped lately. He'd give me a quick kiss at breakfast, then vanish into his study, his phone buzzing nonstop. At dinner, he'd show up sometimes, but his mind was always somewhere else, his green eyes distant, like he was wrestling with something big.

"Sorry, моя розочка," he'd said last night, his hand brushing my cheek. "Got some things to handle. It'll be over soon."

Over soon. He kept saying that, but when was "soon"? I didn't know what he was dealing with, didn't know if I could help. I felt like an outsider, just sitting pretty in this gorgeous estate, waiting for… what? His attention? His world to let me in?

What was I to him? His girlfriend? Anya's teacher? Or just some shiny ornament he'd get tired of eventually? The thoughts swirled in my head, heavy and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.

Anya was acting weird, too. She'd play with me for a bit, then suddenly bolt to find her dad, leaving me alone in the sprawling living room. Sometimes I'd hear them whispering in his study, but the second I got close, they'd go quiet.

Was I doing something wrong? Like I'd barged into their perfect little world and messed it up?

My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my spiral. It was Mom.

"Hey, sweetheart, how you holding up?" Her voice was warm, instantly easing the knot in my chest.

"I'm good, Mom," I said, trying to sound convincing.

"Bullshit," she shot back, no-nonsense as always. "You sound off, all stuffy and mopey. Don't tell me it's a cold—Cassie Monroe, I birthed you, and I know when you're lying. Your voice gets tighter than a violin string. Spill. What's wrong?"

She knew me too well.

I hesitated, then sighed. "It's nothing big, Mom. I just… feel kinda lost."

"Oh, honey," she said, her tone softening with concern. "Sounds like boy trouble. Am I right?"

"Mom," I groaned, half-exasperated, half-amused.

"Come on, Cassie," she teased, chuckling. "You think your old lady's clueless? You're twenty-four, having a boyfriend's normal. Tell me about him."

"His name's Gennady," I said, my voice wavering.

"Gennady?" Mom perked up. "Russian, huh? Sounds intense, like a shot of vodka. So, what's the problem? He treating you okay?"

Her bluntness cut right to the core.

"I don't know, Mom. Sometimes I feel like he really cares, but other times…" My voice shook, betraying me.

"Other times what?" Her tone turned serious.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't even know him."

The line went quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was firm, almost fierce. "Listen, baby. Love's not supposed to keep you confused and second-guessing yourself. If this guy's making you doubt who you are, you need to take a step back and think hard."

"But, Mom, I really like him," I said, my voice small, almost pathetic.

"I know, sweetheart. I know how intoxicating that feeling is," she said, softening.

"But that's exactly why I'm telling you this.

No matter how much you like him, it's not worth losing your peace, your sense of safety.

Cassie, trust your gut. If something feels off, if your heart's sounding alarms, hit pause and figure it out. Protect yourself, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," I whispered, like it was a vow.

"And, Cassie," she added, her voice dead serious, "if anything feels wrong—anything, even just a vibe—call me right away. I mean it."

I hung up, standing by the window, my blurry reflection staring back at me in the glass.

Mom's words—"love's not supposed to keep you confused"—popped the dreamy bubble I'd been hiding in.

The question I'd been dodging, the one buried under all the sweetness, hit me hard and cold: Does Gennady really love me?

The next few days didn't help. Gennady stayed buried in work, Anya kept acting secretive, and I wandered the estate like a ghost, trying to kill time.

But this morning, something was different. I changed and opened my door to head downstairs, only to find the estate eerily quiet. Too quiet. My heart picked up, an uneasy feeling creeping in. I gripped the banister, stepping slowly down the stairs.

Then I froze.

A trail of rose petals stretched from the base of the stairs, winding through the house like a red ribbon. The petals shimmered in the morning light, beckoning me to follow.

My pulse raced. What is this?

I couldn't help myself—I followed. The path snaked through the living room, down the hall, past the garden, each step scattering soft petals under my feet. The air was thick with their sweet scent, and my confusion started melting into curiosity, then excitement.

The trail ended at the greenhouse door.

My hands were sweaty as I pushed it open.

Time stopped.

A violin played, halting but earnest, echoing from deep within the greenhouse.

The space was bathed in soft light, countless red roses blooming in waves, their petals glowing like rubies in the morning sun.

In the center, surrounded by this sea of flowers, sat a deep blue velvet box, tied with a silver ribbon that sparkled like starlight.

Tears pricked my eyes.

I stumbled toward the box, my fingers shaking so bad I fumbled with the ribbon.

When I lifted the lid, my breath caught.

A violin lay inside, its amber finish gleaming, the wood's grain alive under the light.

Every curve, every detail screamed craftsmanship and care.

I reached out, trembling, and brushed the taut strings.

A clear, pure note rang out, vibrating through the greenhouse.

"Happy birthday, Cassie."

His voice, low and warm, came from behind me. I spun around. Gennady stepped out from the roses, his dark suit crisp, his tall frame commanding but softened by the love in his green eyes—a love so deep it nearly drowned me.

My birthday? I'd forgotten it was today.

"Gennady," I choked out, tears spilling over as days of doubt and pain poured out. "All this time… this is what you've been doing?"

"Yeah," he said, stepping closer, his hands cupping my face, thumbs wiping away my tears. "Cassie Monroe, twenty-five years old, with the kindest, purest soul I know, deserves to be celebrated, cherished like this."

"Miss Monroe! Happy birthday!" Anya burst out from behind him, a little pink dress swishing, clutching a child's violin, her face flushed with excitement. "Do you like our surprise? Daddy and I worked so hard!"

The fog in my head cleared. His absence, Anya's sneaky glances, the whispers in the study—it all clicked. They'd been planning this.

"You guys—" My voice broke, tears streaming as emotions overwhelmed me.

Gennady pulled me into his arms, his chin resting on my head. "Cassie, you're not some afterthought. You're everything to me, a gift I never thought I'd get."

"Gennady," I whispered, trembling in his embrace. "Do I really deserve this? I'm just… ordinary."

He pulled back, cradling my face, his eyes fierce with conviction. "I love you, Cassie." The words were clear, deliberate, shattering me. "From the moment I saw you, you stole my heart without me even realizing it."

His voice dropped, raw and vulnerable in a way I'd never heard. "I thought my heart was done, broken for good after everything. Then you came along, like a goddamn ray of light, and changed everything."

His confession broke me open. Tears poured, not from sadness but from the overwhelming shock of being seen, accepted, and loved so fiercely.

Anya, catching our emotions, dropped her violin with a clunk and barreled into me, hugging my legs, her face buried in my skirt. She looked up, her blue eyes brimming with tears, and shouted, "I love Miss Monroe too! The most, most, most!"

I scooped Anya up, hugging her tight. "Thank you, both of you."

"No, Cassie," Gennady said, his voice rough with emotion. He wrapped his strong arms around us both, pulling us close. "Don't thank us. We thank you. For coming into our lives, for making this house feel like a home, for making us whole."

Time melted away. The three of us stood there, wrapped in each other, tears mixing in the sea of roses. No words, just hearts colliding. Every doubt, every fear, every moment of confusion washed away in that embrace.

For the first time, I felt truly, deeply loved.

Eventually, the emotional tide ebbed. Gennady pulled back, brushing a tear from my cheek, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"Now," he said, offering his hand with a graceful, encouraging gesture, "this is your moment, Cassie.

Your stage. Let us hear your soul. Let me see Cassie Monroe's light shine again. "

His gaze was so intense, so focused, like my next move was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Excitement and nerves surged through me. My hand shook as I reached for the violin, my heart pounding like a drum. How long had it been since I played for anyone? Would I still be any good?

"But—" I licked my dry lips, nervous. "What if it sounds bad?"

"No, моя розочка," Gennady said, his hand on my cheek, his voice steady and sure, cutting through my doubt. "You can do this. I believe in you."

"Yeah! Miss Monroe's the best!" Anya chimed in, clapping her little hands, her face glowing with pure adoration, her eyes like tiny sparks igniting my courage.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and lifted the violin to my shoulder. The cool chinrest felt familiar, grounding. I set the bow on the strings.

The first note trembled, tentative, unsure. It was D Major Violin Concerto, my old favorite.

Then, something miraculous happened.

As that first note bloomed, the music took over. My fingers found their place on the fingerboard, muscle memory kicking in like a river breaking free. The melody flowed, alive, every note a piece of my soul. I didn't need to think—it was instinct, carved into my bones.

I felt Gennady and Anya watching, their gazes not heavy but lifting, like a warm embrace. The music became my world, the notes no longer just technique but a song from my heart, swirling through the greenhouse, mingling with the scent of roses.

When I hit the cadenza, the music soared, and I felt it—a power I'd forgotten. I wasn't that scared girl anymore. Here, bathed in love and expectation, I was a woman commanding the room with her music, her light.

The final note lingered, trembling, then faded.

The greenhouse fell into a sacred silence.

I opened my eyes, lashes wet with tears.

Gennady stood there, his green eyes shining with something new—shock, pride, and a love so deep it stole my breath. Anya's face was red with excitement, tears in her eyes as she clapped wildly. "Miss Monroe! You're like an angel! A glowing angel!"

Gennady stepped forward, brushing a tear from my cheek. "Cassie, you're a goddamn miracle."

My heart shook at his words.

In that moment, the fog lifted completely. My path, my worth, my light—they'd always been there, in the music at my fingertips, in the heart that beat for love, for this.

In this rose-filled morning, on this stage made just for me, the real Cassie Monroe—the one buried under life's dust—picked up her bow and found herself again.