MasukCassandra woke to the weight of Dante's arm draped across her waist, his breath warm against her neck. For a moment, she forgot everything. The letter. His mother. The cold, calculating eyes of his aunt.
She turned in his arms, her fingers tracing his jaw, his cheek, his lips.
"Good morning," she whispered.
His eyes fluttered open. The rawness in them made her heart ache. He'd barely slept. Neither had she.
"Morning," he murmured, pulling her closer. His lips found her forehead. "Did you sleep?"
"Some." She pressed a kiss to his chest. "You?"
"Not really."
"I know." She looked up at him. "What are we going to do?"
He was quiet for a moment. Then his phone buzzed, loud and ugly against the nightstand. He reached for it, his jaw tightening.
"It's my aunt. She's summoned me to the mansion."
"Now?"
"Now." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She says there's an urgent family matter."
Cassandra sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. "Then we should go. Together."
"After having our bath." Dante took her hand and she followed him.
"You helped me finished." Cassandra said seeing the sheet clean and taken out of water.
"I did and can help you finish many other things too." He responded pulling her into a hug.
Cassandra beamed, knowing exactly what he meant.
After the shower, Cassandra yawned calling on him to help with her zipper. " And I'm so hungry, can't we have breakfast at least?"
"We will have it, but in the car, I ordered something."
Cassandra nodded submissively as they headed outside.
---
The drive home was unusually slow and quiet, Cassandra kept mouthing her food, occasionally looking at the road. Dante focused on the road, his eyes never leaving the steering.
"I don't like this." Cassandra pouted leaning to kiss his lips.
"You don't like what?"
"This, Cassandra pointed. The silent and everything, its seems like you aren't even here."
"I here baby, I'm just__
"Don't D.' Cassandra cut in, "stop thinking about the house, everything will be fine."
"Thank you, baby. Dante touched her face. "You don't know how that made me feel."
Cassandra place her head gently on his shoulder.
The drive continued in silence
---
The mansion loomed before them, cold and unwelcoming.
Dante's aunt was waiting in the foyer, her smile sharp as a blade. Behind her, Vincent stood with his arms crossed. Elena hovered in the background, her face unreadable.
"Welcome back," the aunt said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I've decided to move into the mansion permanently. To help Dante manage his household." Her eyes flicked to Cassandra. "And his distractions."
Cassandra's stomach dropped. Dante's jaw tightened.
"That won't be necessary," he said coldly.
"Oh, I think it is." The aunt stepped closer. "You've been reckless, Dante. Distracted. Someone needs to keep things in order."
Dante walked past her, taking Cassandra inside leaving his aunty to deal with her problems.
---
The attacks came swiftly.
Later that afternoon, Cassandra was in the garden when the aunt appeared. Her heels clicked against the stone, her smile razor-sharp.
"That dress is lovely," she said. "But it's clearly not yours. You don't have the money for something like that."
Cassandra's hand tightened around her book. "It was a gift."
"From Dante, I assume." The aunt circled her like a shark. "He buys you things, and you pretend to love him. How predictable."
Cassandra forced herself to stay calm. "I do love him."
"You love his money." The aunt stopped in front of her. "You're just like Isabella. Using him for what you can get, until you find someone better."
"I'm not Isabella."
"Give it time. You'll show your true colors eventually."
Dante appeared in the garden, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Leave her alone."
His aunt turned, her smile unfazed. "I was just getting to know your little fiancée."
"You've done enough." Dante stepped in front of Cassandra, his body shielding hers. "If you speak to her again, I'll make you regret it."
The aunt laughed. "You can't protect her from everything, Dante. Eventually, she'll show her true colors. They always do." His aunty spit and began walking away like a wandering dog.
Dante joined Cassandra taking her hand.
---
Later, Cassandra sat in her room, her mind churning.
The aunt's words echoed in her head. You're just like Isabella. Using him for what you can get.
She knew it wasn't true. But the doubt had been planted. A small seed, growing in the dark.
She called Samantha.
She answered immediately"Cass? What's wrong?" Samantha asked impatiently.
Cassandra told her everything. The aunt. The attacks. The doubt.
Samantha listened, then said, "Cass, you're one of the strongest people I know. Don't let that woman get in your head."
"She's already in my head."
"Then kick her out." Samantha's voice was fierce. "You love Dante. He loves you. That's all that matters."
Cassandra nodded, even though Samantha couldn't see. "You're right."
"I always am." They talked at length before the line went dead
---
Dante aunt cornered Cassandra in the hallway that evening.
"Still here?" she asked, her smile cold. "I thought you would have run by now. Isabella did, you know. After she'd taken everything."
Cassandra's pulse quickened. "I'm not Isabella."
"No, you're worse." The aunt stepped closer. "She was smart enough to leave before he could destroy her. You're too stupid to see the trap."
Cassandra met her gaze, her voice steady. "I'm not trapped. I'm exactly where I want to be."
The aunt laughed. "We'll see."
---
That night, Dante found Cassandra in the garden.
She was sitting on a stone bench, staring at nothing. He sat beside her, his hand finding hers.
"I know what my aunt is doing," he said quietly. "She's trying to tear us apart."
Cassandra looked at him. "Is she right? About Isabella?"
Dante was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Isabella was a mistake. I trusted her. I loved her. And she used me."
"Used you how?"
"She fed information to my enemies. She nearly destroyed everything." He squeezed her hand. "But I'm not the same man I was then. And you're not her."
Cassandra's eyes searched his. "How do you know?"
"Because I've never felt this way about anyone. Not even close." He cupped her face. "You're not a trap, Cassandra. You're the only thing that's ever made sense."
She leaned into his touch, her heart aching. "I love you."
"I love you too."
His aunt watched from the window.
She pulled out her phone, dialing a number.
"It's time," she said. "Start the next phase."
---
The next morning, Cassandra found a note slipped under her door.
You think you know him. But you don't. Ask him about Isabella. Ask him why she really left.
Her blood ran cold. She crumpled the note, throwing it in the trash.
She wouldn't let them win.
The Moretti mansion loomed before them, cold and unwelcoming.Cassandra stepped through the front doors, Dante's hand warm in hers. They were here for resources—weapons, allies, a base of operations for the final confrontation with Marcus Kane. The safe house was no longer secure. They needed somewhere with more protection.But the moment they crossed the threshold, a familiar voice sliced through the air."Well, well. Look who finally decided to come home."Big Aunty stood at the top of the staircase, her arms crossed, her smile sharp as a blade. She was dressed in a silk robe, her hair perfectly coiffed, her eyes cold and calculating.Cassandra's stomach tightened. She'd hoped never to see this woman again."Aunt," Dante said flatly. "I thought I told you to leave.""I came back." Big Aunty descended the stairs, her heels clicking against the marble. "This is my home. My family. You can't just banish me.""I can. And I did."---Big Aunty's smile faltered. Then it returned, sharper
Cassandra stared at the words written in blood.You're too late. She's already mine.Her blood ran cold. Her mind raced through a list of names—her grandmother, Samantha, Isabella, even Elena. Who had Marcus Kane taken? Who was he holding over her head now?Dante's jaw was tight. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He didn't know either. But he wasn't going to wait to find out."Search the building," he ordered his men. "Every room. Every closet. Every inch. Find something."They scattered, their footsteps echoing through the empty safe house.---They found nothing.The building was stripped clean. No documents. No weapons. No sign that anyone had ever been there. Just the message on the wall, written in blood that was already drying.Then Marco called from the basement.Dante and Cassandra went down together. Marco was standing by a small table, a single photograph in his gloved hand.It was old, faded. A picture of Grace Hayes holding a baby. Cassandra.On the back, in
Daniel's text hung in the air like a death sentence.Marcus Kane is planning something. Something big. He's going to strike soon. Be ready.Cassandra stared at the screen, her hands trembling. She showed it to Dante, watching as his expression shifted from concern to cold, hard fury."We need to be ready," he said quietly. "For anything."---Dante went into overdrive.He called Marco, doubling security at the safe house. He arranged for Evelyn to be moved to a secure location—not because he forgave her, but because Cassandra needed her alive. He didn't trust anyone. Not after everything. Every person was a potential threat. Every shadow could hide an enemy.Cassandra watched him work, her heart aching. She knew he was scared. He was scared of losing her.---The next morning, Cassandra insisted on going to the flower shop.She needed to see it—to say goodbye, maybe. To remind herself of who she was before all of this. Before the necklace, before the conspiracy, before Dante.Dante re
Cassandra barely slept.Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her grandmother's face—tear-streaked, broken, begging for forgiveness. She heard the words over and over. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.But sorry didn't bring her mother back. Sorry didn't undo twenty years of lies.Dante stayed close. He didn't push her to talk. He didn't try to fix it. He just held her when she cried and sat with her when she was silent. His presence was a quiet anchor in the storm.---The invitation arrived the next morning.A charity gala hosted by Marcus Kane. Black tie. High profile. The kind of event where powerful people gathered to see and be seen.Cassandra stared at the embossed card, her jaw tight. "It's a trap.""Obviously." Dante poured himself a cup of coffee. "But it's also an opportunity. Marcus will be there. His associates will be there. If we play our cards right, we might find something we can use.""You want to go?""I want to fight." He looked at her. "But only if you're ready."Cassand
Daniel's words hung in the air like a death sentence.Someone else killed Grace Hayes. Someone Cassandra knew. Her mind raced through a list of names—Vincent, Elena, Marcus Kane—but none of them felt right. None of them fit."I need to see you," Daniel said, his voice urgent. "In person. I'll explain everything. But you need to be careful. Someone is watching."The line went dead.---Cassandra found Dante in the study, poring over documents. He looked up when she entered, his eyes sharp, alert."What happened?"She told him. About Daniel's call. About the warning. About the truth she was still trying to process.Dante's jaw tightened. "I don't trust him.""I know." Cassandra sat beside him. "But I need to hear what he has to say. If there's even a chance he's telling the truth—""Then we'll listen." Dante took her hand. "Together."---Daniel arrived at the safe house under cover of darkness.He was nervous, his eyes darting around the room, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.
Cassandra stood frozen in the doorway of the café.The man sitting beside Adrian had her eyes. Her nose. Her chin. He was older—gray streaked through his dark hair, lines etched around his eyes—but the resemblance was unmistakable. It was like looking into a mirror that showed her future."Cassandra," Adrian said softly, rising from his chair. "This is Daniel. Your father."Her father.The word felt foreign. Wrong. She'd spent her whole life believing her father was dead—a man she'd never known, a loss she'd mourned without ever understanding. And now here he was. Alive. Real. Sitting across from her like a ghost made flesh.She didn't move.Daniel stood slowly, his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes—her eyes—were filled with something she couldn't name. Regret. Longing. Love. It was too much. It was everything."I know this is a shock," he said, his voice quiet, careful. "I know you have questions. I'll answer all of them. But first—" He paused. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."---Ca







