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Chapter 16 – Unspoken Allegiances
Huling Na-update:
2025-06-23 17:25:04Cassian didn’t mention the scream.
Not the next day.
Not the day after.
But Elise noticed other things.
He was still in the house.
Camila had arranged it — “for appearances,” she’d said. A show of harmony. Of unity.
To Elise, it was surveillance dressed as strategy.
But she used it anyway.
—
He stopped deferring to Camila during meetings. Cancelled an outing arranged by the family council — one Elise was meant to attend for optics. When the guests asked why, he simply said, “Priorities changed.”
He didn’t name her.
But she felt the weight of it anyway.
Not as affection.
As strategy.
—
The morning after, Camila received a private call from the Foundation’s board and left the estate without comment.
Elise took the opening.
She crossed to the west wing.
Knocked once on the study door.
Cassian opened it.
No tie. No jacket. Just a pressed shirt and quiet wariness.
“Elise.”
“Are you cancelling the gala appearance because of me?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He stepped aside. She entered without waiting.
The room smelled like cedar and espresso. She didn’t sit.
“You think that protects me?” she asked.
“I think it removes the target.”
“You think too small.”
His eyes flicked up.
Elise didn’t smile.
“I’m not something to shield. I’m something to use.”
“That’s not what I—”
“But it’s how you act.”
He was quiet for a beat.
Then: “You were right. About the archives. About Matteo.”
She tilted her head.
“No denial this time?”
“Only silence.”
That surprised her more than it should have.
He gestured to the corner desk.
There, on the edge, sat an old photograph.
It showed the Caro and D’Amaro families at a summer estate. Elise was in the frame. So was Cassian.
She was seventeen. Smiling. Head turned toward him.
He wasn’t looking at the camera.
He was looking at her.
“You kept this?” she asked.
“I didn’t put it there.”
That made her pause.
“Elise,” he said, voice lower now. “I know I’ve made it impossible to believe this, but—”
She turned away.
“Don’t,” she said.
Not unkindly.
But clearly.
He didn’t try again.
—
He didn’t just pull her from public obligations.
He started appearing in rooms he once avoided — ones where Elise spoke.
At a Caro Foundation strategy session, when Camila dismissed Elise’s suggestion to scale down security presence, Cassian interrupted.
“She’s right,” he said simply.
The room went quiet.
Camila’s eyes flicked toward him, tight with irritation.
“Let’s not make this a debate,” she said quietly, to the room, but aimed at him.
But he didn’t retract it.
Later, Elise passed his study and saw him at the desk, reading. Not briefing papers. Not market reports. But the Caro family’s internal holdings file — the one she had quietly reorganized and annotated for Camila years ago, expecting it to be ignored.
He hadn’t just scanned it.
He’d been highlighting passages.
And folding the corners she marked.
And when a visiting cousin made a sideways comment — something casual, almost bored, about Elise being “colder than usual lately” — Cassian spoke before anyone else could.
“She’s learned efficiency,” he said. “You should try it.”
The silence that followed held more weight than the insult.
Elise didn’t thank him.
Didn’t change expression.
But she noticed.
And that was enough.
—
Later that week, during a business dinner with southern associates, Cassian refused a proposal that came directly from one of Matteo’s side ventures.
Elise was at the table.
So was Matteo.
The tension was silent but visible.
Afterwards, Matteo caught her in the corridor.
“You’ve been busy,” he said.
“I’m not the one who made the call.”
“No,” he said. “But he made it because of you.”
Elise didn’t deny it.
Matteo stepped closer.
“He’s changing shape. And I don’t like when my weapons grow spines.”
Elise met his gaze without blinking.
“Then don’t leave them out in the sun.”
Matteo studied her.
Then, unexpectedly, smiled.
Not warm.
Not cold.
But impressed.
—
That night, Elise added two lines to the journal.
Cassian: redirecting loyalty. Not because of love. Because of guilt.
Matteo: watching closer. Still quiet. But calculating too fast to stay passive.
Ready for the next move.
Pinakabagong kabanata
She Died His Wife, She Returns His Enemy Chapter 20 – The Girl in the Mirror
Elise didn’t sleep.The estate was quiet past midnight — the kind of silence that hums under walls and in between breath. She sat in her suite with the lights low, the fire down to embers, the ring still on her finger and the taste of too many glances clinging to her skin.She should have been tired.But power had a way of keeping the pulse sharp.And tonight, it burned.She moved to the vanity with slow intent. The mirror caught her in fragments — hair undone, mouth too still, collarbone lit in slices of shadow. Her reflection didn’t soften. It didn’t forgive.It waited.She rose.And the gown moved with her.Black silk — nearly sheer — slid down the planes of her body, brushing against bare skin like it didn’t care who watched. It caught the light in ghostly gleams, enough to trace the deep lines of her waist, the sweep of her thighs, the soft dip at the top of each breast.She hadn’t worn anything beneath it.Not because she meant to be seen.But because she wasn’t hiding anymore.
She Died His Wife, She Returns His Enemy Chapter 19 – Matteo’s Warning
Camila had invited Matteo to the estate for a late-afternoon strategy session. Something to do with donor placement and the Foundation’s upcoming portfolio. Elise hadn’t been asked to join.She didn’t ask why.But when she passed the library and heard Matteo’s voice — low, deliberate — she didn’t stop.She just walked away.—By dusk, the library was supposed to be empty.It wasn’t.She stepped inside without hesitation.The room smelled of old leather and cedar polish. Low light pooled across the rug, softening the carved furniture into suggestion. A decanter glinted like a forgotten temptation.Matteo was still there.She felt him before she saw him — not as sound, but pressure. The air thickened. Space shifted.He stepped into view between the central shelves, holding a slim leather folder, unopened.“Interesting ring,” he said.“It wasn’t yours to comment on,” Elise replied.He moved forward. “That’s never stopped you from wearing things meant for someone else.”“Cassian offered i
She Died His Wife, She Returns His Enemy Chapter 18 – The Ring He Never Chose
Cassian handed her the note late in the afternoon, while she was reviewing the Cruz documentation at the drawing room table. He didn’t ask what she was reading. He didn’t interrupt.He just placed the folded card beside her elbow.“Seven o’clock,” he said. “Rooftop.”She looked at the envelope, then at him.“Is this an order?”“No,” he said. “An opportunity.”The card was cream stock. No seal. No flourish.Inside, in his handwriting:Wear something that doesn’t apologize. — C—By sunset, the Caro estate’s rooftop had been cleared of its usual furniture. In its place stood a low table with a bottle of scotch, two heavy crystal glasses, and an old wooden box. Cassian stood at the railing, facing the skyline, sleeves rolled, his jacket slung over the back of a chair.She stepped into the space without slowing.Her dress was black, deep, and glitter-laced. A slip of starlight against her skin. It caught every breath of movement, clung like heat, and shimmered like threat. It dipped low a
She Died His Wife, She Returns His Enemy Chapter 17 – Elena Cruz is Born
Elena Cruz didn’t exist on paper until Elise decided she did.The apartment came first — a walk-up above a closed florist on Via Danzico. Third floor. No elevator. The kind of place that didn’t ask questions and kept its lights dim even in daylight. She signed the lease in silence, using one of the old cover identities Gerardo Valez had drafted for her family’s “quiet accounts” back when she was still too obedient to know what they were for.This time, she knew.The walls were bare, the windows locked. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, like someone had wiped away something that shouldn’t have been left behind. There were no family portraits here. No ancestral oil paintings. Just blank walls. Clean, unfinished. The way she liked it.Elise set her single suitcase on the narrow table by the window. It held only what she needed: a gray coat, a burner phone, two folders, and a black fountain pen.Then she waited.Gerardo arrived at 9:03 a.m.He had aged better than most men in his bus
She Died His Wife, She Returns His Enemy Chapter 16 – Unspoken Allegiances
Cassian didn’t mention the scream.Not the next day.Not the day after.But Elise noticed other things.He was still in the house.Camila had arranged it — “for appearances,” she’d said. A show of harmony. Of unity.To Elise, it was surveillance dressed as strategy.But she used it anyway.—He stopped deferring to Camila during meetings. Cancelled an outing arranged by the family council — one Elise was meant to attend for optics. When the guests asked why, he simply said, “Priorities changed.”He didn’t name her.But she felt the weight of it anyway.Not as affection.As strategy.—The morning after, Camila received a private call from the Foundation’s board and left the estate without comment.Elise took the opening.She crossed to the west wing.Knocked once on the study door.Cassian opened it.No tie. No jacket. Just a pressed shirt and quiet wariness.“Elise.”“Are you cancelling the gala appearance because of me?”He hesitated.“Yes.”“Why?”He stepped aside. She entered with
She Died His Wife, She Returns His Enemy Chapter 15 – Bruises You Can’t See
Elise didn’t speak of the gallery incident.Not to Camila. Not in her journal. She cleaned the blade. Burned the envelope. Acted like it hadn’t touched her.But the quiet that followed settled wrong in her chest.Matteo had sent her into danger, then covered her with protection.Her body pretended it didn’t matter.Her sleep said otherwise.The dream wasn’t new.But it had waited—quiet, patient—for the right moment to return.—Elise ran through the trees.Dark ones. Wet with silence. Not chasing, not fleeing. Just moving. Fast. Her boots caught roots. Her breath scraped. She knew what came next.Gunfire.Not a sound.A sensation.Then nothing.Except—A single voice.Her name.Said not in hate.But regret.—She woke gasping.Sheets tangled. Skin damp. The air in her room felt thinner than it should. She sat up too fast, elbows locked, heart stuttering against bone.The lamp was still on.Soft amber glow.It was past midnight.She stood slowly, moved toward the window. Opened it just
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