THE BILLIONAIRE’S SECOND CHANCE BETRAYAL

Burnt sugar. That smell usually kept June Avery steady, no matter how bad things got. Today? Not so much. The air felt too thick, like a storm was just waiting to break.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her old blue apron. The bakery was dead quiet except for the low hum of the oven. She glanced at her phone. Twelve dollars and forty cents. That’s all that stood between her and nothing.

“Mommy, look! I made a flour castle!”

June looked down. There was Leo, her four-year-old, perched on a stool, face ghostly white from flour. His smile hurt to look at—same wild dark hair, same deep silver-blue eyes. Just like him.

“It’s beautiful, Leo,” she whispered, kissing his forehead. “Go play with your cars in the back, okay? Mommy has to finish working.”

Leo ran off, and right then the front door didn’t just open—it slammed open, hard, so the bell above it shattered against the wall. June jumped, heart pounding. Three men in dark suits marched in, blocking the exit, looking like hired muscle straight out of some mob movie.

Then a fourth man stepped inside.

The whole room seemed to freeze. June couldn’t breathe. Dante Romano.

Five years ago, he’d promised her forever. Now, he looked massive in a suit worth more than everything she owned. His face was stone. His eyes, once soft, now cold enough to make her shiver.

“Dante,” she breathed. Her voice barely came out.

“Mr. Romano,” he said, voice like gravel. No warmth. He looked at her like she was something to scrape off his shoe.

“What do you want?” June pressed herself back until the oven’s heat burned her spine. “You told me to disappear. You gave me a check and said never show my face. That’s exactly what I did!”

He laughed, low and mean. He stepped closer, shoes clicking on the filthy tile. “I changed my mind, June. Letting you run was too easy. I want you to pay.”

He tossed a thick black folder onto the counter. Flour puffed up in the air.

“Open it,” he said.

Her hands shook so much she could barely flip through the pages. Legal documents. Her father’s signature everywhere.

“Your father’s a real idiot, June,” Dante said, leaning in so close she could smell his cologne. It yanked memories of better days straight out of her chest. “He owes my company five million in gambling debts. He skipped town last night. But before he left, he signed everything over to me.”

“My father doesn’t own this bakery!” June shouted. “I built this! I worked for this!”

“The land’s mine now. The building. Even the flour on your face. It’s all mine.” His eyes went dark. “You’ve got two choices. Go to jail for your father’s mess, or come with me and work it off. Clean my floors. Cook my meals. Stay by my side until I’m done with you.”

June felt the ground drop out from under her. No money. No lawyer. No way out. She looked at the door. The guards were statues.

“Please, Dante,” she begged, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Don’t do this. I have nothing left.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you left me,” he snapped.

The small door to the back creaked open.

“Mommy? Why is that man yelling? Is he a monster?”

Leo stood there, clutching his plastic truck. He stared up at Dante, eyes wide and unafraid.

The room went dead silent.

Dante froze. The folder slipped from his hands and hit the floor with a thud. He stared at Leo—at the boy’s hair, his chin, those unmistakable silver-blue eyes.

Dante said nothing. He strode across the kitchen, fast. He knelt in front of Leo. June lunged, but a guard caught her arm.

“Let me go!” she screamed, fighting. “Don’t touch him! Dante, don’t you dare!”

Dante didn’t even look at her. He reached out with a trembling hand and touched Leo’s cheek. Leo didn’t flinch. He just stared at Dante, stubborn as only a child can be.

“How old is he?” Dante’s voice shook with rage. It wasn’t cold anymore; it was dangerous.

“He’s…he’s four,” June lied, her voice barely holding together. “He’s my nephew. My sister’s boy. Please, Dante, let us go.”

Dante stood up slowly. He turned to June, and for one terrifying second, she thought he might actually kill her. The anger in his eyes burned.

“I’m a lot of things, June, but I’m not stupid,” Dante snapped. “Look at him. He’s got my eyes, my face. He’s four. You were pregnant when you took my money and disappeared.”

June broke down, choking on her sobs. “No! He isn’t yours! You told me you never wanted to see me again! You called me a mistake!”

Dante closed the space between them. His face hovered inches from hers, anger and something colder flickering in his eyes. “You kept my son here? In this dump? While I sat alone in a palace, my heir played in filth?”

He turned to his men, voice sharp as glass. “Get my lawyers on the phone. The debt’s gone. Tell the pilot to ready the jet.”

June’s heart hammered in her chest. “Where are you taking us?”

He grabbed her chin, made her meet his gaze. His hold was unyielding, but he didn’t hurt her—just made it clear she wasn’t slipping away again.

“You won’t be my servant, June,” he said, a twisted smile on his lips. “That’s way too easy. You stole five years from me—five years with my son. Now I’m taking yours.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring—massive diamond, heavy as a sentence. “We’re going to the city. By tonight, everyone will know you’re my wife. You’ll live in my house. You’ll sleep in my bed. And you’re never leaving my sight. Try to run, and you’ll never see Leo again.”

June’s eyes darted to her little boy, then back to Dante. She’d dreamed of a second chance, but this wasn’t love. It was a cage.

Dante leaned in, his voice a low threat in her ear. “Welcome to the family, June. The nightmare’s just getting started.”