Eighty Six

After the bedroom door closed, Cassandra remained seated at the edge of the bed, her heart pounding. Her vacant gaze was fixed on the door Antonio had just passed through. The echo of his hurried footsteps still lingered in her mind. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but her thoughts were clouded with unsettling possibilities. Did Antonio suspect her? The way he had looked at her just now... as if he knew something he shouldn’t. Cassandra rubbed her face with both hands, attempting to shake off the unease creeping into her chest. But the more she tried to ignore it, the clearer it became—something was wrong. She lay down, closing her eyes, but her mind kept spinning. If Antonio truly knew about her investigation, she was in danger. There was no telling how he would react if he discovered that his own wife had been looking into him behind his back. I can’t sleep. Cassandra opened her eyes and rose from the bed. She walked to the small table in the corner of the room, pouring herself a glass of water to steady her nerves. But just as she was about to take a sip, a soft knock at the door made her freeze. Her heart immediately raced faster. For a moment, she stood still, hesitating to answer. Then, with cautious steps, she approached the door and opened it slightly. A servant stood outside, holding a white envelope in his hands. “Mr. Antonio wishes for you to read this before you sleep, madam,” the servant said politely, his expression neutral. Cassandra swallowed, reaching out to take the envelope. Her fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against the paper’s texture. “Thank you.” The servant bowed slightly before stepping away, leaving Cassandra frozen in the doorway. With a sense of apprehension, she closed the door and slowly walked back to the bed. She stared at the envelope for a moment, as if she could somehow guess the message inside. Should I read it now? After taking a deep breath, she finally opened the envelope with careful hands. A single white sheet of paper slipped onto her lap. With trembling fingers, she turned it over and read the words written in bold black ink. "Do not make me doubt you." Cassandra stiffened. The brief message struck her like a blow to the chest. She reread the words several times, hoping to decipher a hidden meaning. But there was none. The words were clear and unmistakable. Was this a warning? Or a threat? Her fingers tightened around the paper, her breath unsteady. If Antonio truly suspected her, then she didn’t have much time left. Cassandra glanced toward the bedroom door, as if expecting Antonio to return and explain himself. But she knew that wouldn’t happen. She bit her lip, forcing herself to stay composed. She couldn’t panic now. I need to stay calm. I need to play this smart. But deep down, she knew—the situation had changed. Antonio was beginning to doubt her. After changing into a simple cream-colored dress, she made her way downstairs to the dining room. Her steps were measured, though she fought to keep them from appearing hesitant. When she arrived, she found Antonio already seated, waiting for her. In his hand was a steaming cup of coffee. He looked calm, almost relaxed. But there was something in his gaze that made Cassandra tread carefully. He’s testing me. “Good morning,” Antonio greeted her, his voice deep and smooth. But Cassandra knew better than to trust that tranquility so easily. She forced a small smile. “Morning.” She took her seat, feeling the tension in the air between them, even though neither of them showed any visible signs of unease. Antonio took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving hers. “Did you sleep well?” The question made Cassandra’s heart beat a little faster. Was it just a casual inquiry, or was there something hidden beneath it? She swallowed hard before answering as calmly as possible. "Fairly well." Antonio said nothing for a few seconds. He merely watched Cassandra with an unreadable expression, as if searching for cracks in every word she spoke. Then, without warning, he rose from his seat and walked toward her. Cassandra remained still, trying not to show her nerves. But as Antonio stood beside her, her heartbeat quickened. He leaned down slightly, then gently lifted her chin with two fingers. "Never try to lie to me, Cass," he whispered, his voice so close that she could feel his breath against her skin. Antonio’s hand was warm, a stark contrast to the sudden chill creeping through her body. Cassandra swallowed again, unsure how to react. She wanted to pull away, to keep up the walls she had spent so long building. But her body refused to move. Then, without warning, Antonio pulled her into a deep, fervent kiss. Cassandra gasped, her eyes widening for a moment before they slowly fluttered shut. His lips were warm, intense, as if seeking to unravel her thoughts and shake her world in an instant. She knew she should resist. She should not let herself be consumed by this warmth. But something inside her gave in. Her hands unconsciously clutched the fabric of his sleeve, her body melting under his touch. There was something in the kiss—something beyond desire or dominance. There was possession, a depth of emotion that transcended mere power play. When Antonio finally pulled away, Cassandra was breathless, her heart pounding wildly. She looked at the man before her, searching for a reason to hate or reject him, but instead, she found more questions. What did she truly feel for Antonio? Antonio raised an eyebrow slightly, watching Cassandra’s shaken expression with a knowing look. He brushed his thumb over his lips and smirked faintly. "You're too tense," he murmured. Cassandra still couldn’t respond. She could only stare at Antonio in silence, trying to understand what was happening within her own heart. Nightfall arrived, replacing the sunlight with the distant glow of city lights. Cassandra sat on the sofa in the reading room, attempting to focus on a book to distract herself, but the words on the page seemed meaningless. What had happened this morning? Antonio’s kiss still lingered on her lips, so vivid that she struggled to separate truth from deception. She wanted to believe it was just part of his game, a way for him to control her. Yet, a part of her couldn’t deny that she had enjoyed it. The vibration of her phone startled her. She quickly picked it up and saw a message from David. "I have the answer. Meet me now." Her heart pounded. This was too fast. Had David really found the truth in just a day? Cassandra glanced toward the reading room door, ensuring no one was watching before typing a quick reply. "Where?" The response came instantly. "The old warehouse in the harbor district. Don’t let anyone follow you." Cassandra bit her lip. This was dangerous, but she had to know the truth. Carefully, she slipped out of the room and walked toward the back garden, taking an alternate route to avoid Antonio’s men. Using the excuse of needing fresh air, she stepped outside and sneaked into the garage, taking one of the smaller cars without drawing attention. --- The old warehouse was dark and desolate, illuminated only by flickering streetlights. The cold sea breeze carried the sharp scent of salt. Cassandra moved cautiously, her eyes scanning her surroundings, staying alert for any signs of being followed. The warehouse door was slightly ajar, and inside, David was already waiting with a serious expression. "I don’t like this place," Cassandra muttered, shutting the door behind her. "What did you find?" David didn’t answer right away. He reached into his bag and pulled out an envelope containing several sheets of paper. With trembling hands, Cassandra took them and read the blood analysis report he had given her. The color drained from her face. "This… this can’t be possible," she whispered, her voice barely audible. David nodded. "The blood on the shirt isn’t Antonio’s. It belongs to a man named Cale Callaghan. Does that name sound familiar?" Cassandra froze. Cale Callaghan—a key witness in a major case years ago. He had disappeared mysteriously before he could testify. Many believed he had gone into hiding, but some suspected he had been silenced. And now, his blood was on Antonio’s shirt. She stared at David in horror. "This means…" "It means Antonio might not be just another shadowy businessman. If he was involved in Cale Callaghan’s disappearance, then he is far more dangerous than you realize." Cassandra felt her head spin. What was she supposed to do with this information? If Antonio had truly murdered Julian, then she was living beside a man who was much more than just a criminal. But before she could process her next move, something cold and rough suddenly pressed against her face. Someone had grabbed her from behind. She tried to scream, but the sound was muffled by a cloth pressed over her nose and mouth. Her eyes widened as her body grew weak, her legs giving out beneath her. David shouted, lunging toward her, but a gunshot rang through the warehouse. Cassandra caught a glimpse of David collapsing before the world around her faded into darkness. --- Antonio sat in his study, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the desk. His sharp gaze was fixed on his phone screen, waiting for a response from Cassandra. It had been almost an hour since she had gone to the back garden, yet she had not returned. Something felt off. He pressed a button on his phone, calling one of his guards outside. "Where is Cassandra?" His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable threat lurking beneath it. "Sir, we didn’t see her leave the back garden," came the reply. Antonio’s eyes narrowed. "Check the security footage." A few seconds later, the voice on the other end returned, now laced with unease. "Sir… Lady Cassandra took one of the cars from the garage and left the house about forty-five minutes ago." Antonio immediately stood. "Damn it." Without wasting time, he strode out of the study, signaling to Marcus, who was stationed near the door. "Cassandra is missing. I need to know where she went." Marcus moved quickly, calling his team to track Cassandra, but Antonio already had a sinking feeling. Then his phone vibrated. A message appeared. "If you want her alive, come alone. No bodyguards. Old warehouse in the harbor district." Antonio read the message, his jaw tightening. Viktor Reznov. The man was truly playing with fire. Without hesitation, Antonio retrieved a gun from his desk drawer, holstered it at his waist, and strode toward the door. "Sir, should we deploy the team?" Marcus asked warily. Antonio paused for a moment before shaking his head. "No. I’m going alone." Marcus hesitated but knew that once Antonio had made a decision, there was no changing his mind. --- Cassandra’s head throbbed as she slowly regained consciousness. She opened her eyes sluggishly, realizing she was bound to a chair, coarse rope biting into her wrists. The dimly lit room smelled of oil and rusted metal. "Awake already?" a foreign voice came from the corner of the room. Cassandra lifted her head and saw a burly man with a cold stare watching her. "We don’t plan on killing you, Cassandra," he said casually, smirking. "But that depends on your husband. If he’s smart, you’ll leave here alive." Cassandra tried to mask her fear, but her body tensed. "What do you want?" The man leaned in closer. "Antonio has interfered for too long. It’s time he pays the price." Then, footsteps echoed outside. The warehouse door creaked open. Antonio stepped in. Alone. The man walked in calmly, both hands tucked into the pockets of his suit jacket, as if he felt no threat at all. His gaze was cold as he looked at Cassandra, bound and helpless, before shifting his focus to her captors. "Let her go," he ordered flatly. The men around him chuckled. "And if we refuse?" Antonio took a slow breath, then, in an instant, his movements turned lethal. In one swift step, he pulled out his gun and shot the man beside him without hesitation. BANG! The man collapsed onto the floor, blood pooling from his head. Silence fell over the room. Before anyone could react, Antonio turned and fired another shot at the man standing near the door. BANG! He crumpled before he could even draw his weapon. The two remaining men scrambled to respond, but Antonio was faster. He struck one across the face with the butt of his gun, sending him crashing to the ground with a broken nose. The last man, clearly their leader, stumbled back, fear etched across his face. "If you want to stay alive," Antonio’s voice was ice, "never come near my wife again." The man trembled, then bolted out of the warehouse without a backward glance. Silence settled once more. Antonio holstered his gun and strode toward Cassandra. With careful precision, he pulled a knife from his pocket and sliced through the ropes binding her wrists. Cassandra stared at him, breath ragged. Her hands trembled—not from fear of her captors, but from fear of Antonio. Who was this man, really? Antonio’s fingers brushed her cheek gently, his thumb grazing her cold skin. "Are you alright?" His voice was softer now, a stark contrast to the man who had just taken lives without a second thought. Cassandra looked at him, a storm of fear and admiration swirling in her chest. She had fallen too deep into Antonio’s world. Cassandra sat on the edge of the bed, her body still weak from everything that had transpired. Antonio stood in front of her, opening a first aid kit with a serious expression. He soaked a cotton pad with antiseptic before carefully taking her hand. "This will sting a little," he murmured. Cassandra only nodded. As the cotton pressed against the raw marks on her wrists—left behind by the ropes—she flinched slightly but said nothing. Antonio remained silent, focused on his task. His movements were practiced and meticulous, as if this wasn’t the first time he had treated someone’s wounds. When he finally finished, he sat beside her, watching her in silence. Then, his hand moved, touching her cheek with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine. "You don’t have to be afraid of me, Cass." His voice was deep and warm, an attempt at reassurance. Cassandra met his gaze, her heart pounding in a way that confused her. Warmth spread through her, but so did uncertainty. How could she feel safe with someone who had just killed without hesitation? Her body remembered Antonio’s warmth, the protection he offered. But her mind screamed warnings—reminding her that this man was not someone she could fully trust. It was like walking on the edge of a blade—she knew what Antonio was, what he was capable of. Yet, deep down, something inside her refused to ignore the way he treated her. Antonio inhaled slowly before speaking again, his tone measured. "What are you really hiding?" Cassandra’s chest tightened. She looked into Antonio’s eyes, searching for his true intentions. There was no direct threat in his voice, but there was something deeper—an unmistakable need for the truth. She almost told him. She almost confessed everything—the blood on his shirt, her meeting with David, everything she had uncovered. But at the last second, she bit her lip and said, "Nothing." Antonio remained silent. His eyes locked onto hers, reading every hesitation, every crack in the walls she had built. The silence stretched between them until, finally, Antonio offered a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Alright." But Cassandra knew—deep down, Antonio did not truly believe her. And that made her even more cautious.