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Chapter 3 – Stranger with a Familiar Smile
Huling Na-update:
2025-06-18 15:03:06The morning after the engagement brunch, Elise rose early.
Today wasn't about introductions. That had been yesterday—the curated crowd, the champagne, the polite appraisals veiled behind silver trays and smiles. Today was smaller. Sharper. A private luncheon between the Caro and D’Amaro families, set in the garden to “talk through expectations” and “build rapport.”
Translation: keep impressing them.
She would.
But not the way they expected.
Elise stood before her wardrobe, ignoring the row of pastels her mother had laid out again. She reached past them for something different—a charcoal-blue wrap dress with long sleeves and an open back. Subtle, sleek, dangerously quiet.
She twisted her hair into a low knot and lined her eyes dark and winged. No lipstick. No perfume. She didn’t need artifice.
She wasn’t dressing to appeal.
She was dressing to disarm.
When she stepped out of her room, Camila paused at the top of the stairs.
“That dress is a little dramatic for lunch.”
Elise smoothed the fabric at her hip. “Then lunch should rise to the occasion.”
The table was set beneath the olive trees in the lower garden. Six chairs. White linen. A silver bucket chilling vintage Prosecco. It was elegant and spare—and entirely for show.
Cassian arrived first, flanked by his uncle Matteo.
Elise descended the stone steps slowly, the light catching the smooth fabric of her dress as she moved.
Cassian looked up.
And paused.
There was a hesitation in his expression, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was seeing the same woman from yesterday or someone who had stepped into her skin and sharpened the edges.
“Elise,” he said, rising politely.
She nodded once. “Cassian.”
His gaze lingered a second too long. Not rude. But thoughtful.
She turned next to Matteo and offered a more formal smile.
“Mr. D’Amaro,” she said.
“Matteo, please.” His voice was smooth, his eyes sharper than his smile. “And you must be the reason my nephew forgot his manners.”
She let out a soft, noncommittal sound. “He’ll recover.”
They sat, and lunch began—the four parents talking business at one end of the table, Elise seated beside Cassian at the other. Matteo positioned himself across from them, silent but listening.
Elise ate slowly, movements deliberate. Her knife slid through the grilled sea bass with elegance. She didn’t fill the silence, and she didn’t defer to Cassian—not like she might’ve in her old life.
And he noticed.
“You didn’t say much yesterday,” Cassian said, his voice low enough for her alone.
“I didn’t need to.”
He sipped from his glass. “You’re not what I expected.”
“You keep repeating that.”
“I’ll stop when I figure out why.”
Her gaze lifted to his. “You’re used to people fitting patterns. But I don’t.”
“You’re deliberately difficult.”
“No,” she said. “I’m deliberately designed.”
That made him pause.
Not because he disagreed—but because he didn’t understand what, exactly, she meant by it.
Across the table, Matteo watched them closely. Elise hadn’t once looked to Cassian for guidance. She didn’t laugh too loudly. Didn’t lean in too quickly. Her confidence wasn’t performative—it was controlled.
More importantly, she unsettled Cassian.
And that intrigued Matteo.
As lunch drew to a close, Cassian leaned toward her.
“I’m surprised you came today.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He shrugged. “Some girls get nervous. Especially after yesterday.”
Elise tilted her head. “And what do you think yesterday was?”
“A test,” he said simply.
“And today?”
“Another one.”
She smiled, slow and dangerous. “Then I hope you’re grading yourself.”
He grinned. It faltered slightly under the heat of her gaze.
When they stood, Matteo was already at her side.
“Elise,” he said smoothly, offering his arm as they walked up the stone steps.
She hesitated. Then accepted.
He didn’t speak until they were out of earshot.
“My nephew is clever, but impatient. He’s never had to work for anything.”
“Must be nice,” Elise replied coolly.
“Which is why I noticed how rattled he gets when you’re near.”
She glanced at him. “And you?”
“I get curious.”
Elise’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “Be careful, Mr. D’Amaro. Curiosity can be dangerous.”
“So can beauty,” he replied, just as evenly.
She let go of his arm at the top of the steps.
Then turned to him.
“Good thing I’m both.”
As she broke away from Matteo toward the drinks table, she felt Cassian’s eyes on her.
And soon after, from the shadows of a second-floor balcony, another pair of eyes followed her.
Matteo D’Amaro sipped his whiskey slowly, watching his nephew follow a woman like a dog circling a scent he couldn’t place.
He watched Elise for a long moment—not with hunger, but with interest.
She didn’t smile. She didn’t beg. And she didn’t bend.
Interesting, Matteo thought.
Very interesting indeed.
Later that evening, Elise sat by her window, legs tucked beneath her, the leather-bound Elena Cruz journal open in her lap.
She wrote:
Cassian: instinctive. reactive. curious. Doesn’t like puzzles he didn’t build.
Matteo: calculating. attentive. watches instead of chasing. Keep close.
She tapped the pen once against the page.
And beneath the names, she added one more word:
Useful.
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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