FAZER LOGINAdrian's call hung in the air like a death sentence.
Cassandra couldn't sleep. She paced the safe house, her bare feet silent against the cold floor, her mind racing. Another traitor. Someone closer than she thought. Someone who knew about the locket, the ring, the evidence.
Dante sat at the small table, his laptop open, his jaw tight. He'd been working for hours—pulling up old financial records, cross-referencing accounts, following trails that led nowhere and everywhere at once.
"You need to rest," he said without looking up.
"I can't." She stopped pacing, her arms wrapped around herself. "Someone in our circle is working with Marcus Kane. Someone who knows everything. How am I supposed to sleep knowing that?"
Dante didn't answer. He just kept typing.
---
Hours passed.
Cassandra dozed off on the sofa, her body finally giving in to exhaustion. When she woke, the sun was rising, and Dante was still at the table. But his expression had changed. His face was pale, his hands trembling slightly.
"Dante?"
He didn't respond. He just stared at the screen.
She crossed the room, her heart pounding. "What is it? What did you find?"
He turned the laptop toward her.
Financial records. Pages of them. Transactions from Moretti-controlled accounts. Payments made to an offshore account over a period of years.
Cassandra scanned the numbers, not understanding. "What am I looking at?"
"The traitor." Dante's voice was hollow. "The second one."
He pointed to a name on the screen.
Elena Moretti.
---
Cassandra's blood ran cold. "Your mother?"
"I traced the payments. They lead to an offshore account in her name. She's been receiving money from Marcus Kane for years." Dante's voice cracked. "She's been working with him. The whole time."
Cassandra sank into the chair beside him. "Why? Why would she—"
"I don't know." Dante stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "But I'm going to find out."
---
The mansion was quiet when Dante arrived.
He found Elena in the garden, tending to her roses. She was dressed simply, her hair pulled back, her hands steady as she snipped at dead blooms. She looked peaceful. Innocent.
Dante knew better now.
"I know," he said quietly.
Elena's hands stilled. She didn't turn around.
"Know what?"
"About the payments. The offshore account. The deal you made with Marcus Kane."
Elena was silent for a long moment. Then she set down her shears and turned to face him.
Her eyes were red. Her face was pale. But there was no surprise in her expression. She'd been waiting for this.
"I did what I had to do," she whispered. "To protect you."
"By working with the man who killed my father?" Dante's voice rose. "By helping him cover up his crimes? By letting Grace Hayes die?"
"I didn't know what he was going to do." Elena's voice cracked. "I thought I was protecting you. Marcus told me he would kill you if I didn't cooperate. He said he would destroy everything we'd built. I was terrified."
"You were a coward."
"Yes." Elena's shoulders sagged. "I was. I've always been a coward."
---
Dante stared at her. His mother. The woman who'd raised him. The woman who'd held him when he cried, who'd kissed his scraped knees, who'd told him he could be anything he wanted to be.
She was a stranger.
"You let Grace Hayes die," he said quietly. "You let Cassandra grow up without a mother. You let me believe you were innocent."
"I didn't know Vincent was going to kill her." Tears streamed down Elena's face. "I thought he was just going to scare her. I thought—"
"You thought wrong."
Elena broke down. She sank onto the garden bench, her body shaking with sobs. "I've been living with this guilt for twenty years. Every day. Every night. I see her face. I hear her voice. I know what I did."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I was ashamed. Because I was terrified you'd hate me." She looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. "And I was right. You do hate me."
Dante didn't answer. He couldn't. The anger was too raw, the betrayal too deep.
---
He returned to the safe house hours later.
Cassandra was waiting, her face pale, her eyes searching his.
"What happened?"
He told her. About his mother. About the payments. About the deal. About everything.
Cassandra listened, her heart aching. When he finished, she crossed the room and pulled him into her arms.
"She betrayed you too," she whispered.
"She betrayed everyone."
They held each other for a long time. The weight of the truth pressed down on them, heavy and suffocating. But they bore it together.
---
That night, they made a decision.
They would use Elena's testimony—and the financial records—to build a case against Marcus Kane. They would expose him. Once and for all.
But first, they needed to find the second traitor. The one Adrian had warned her about. The one who was closer than she thought.
"We'll find them," Dante said. "We'll root them out."
"How?"
He looked at her. "We'll set a trap. We'll use the locket as bait. Whoever comes for it is the traitor."
Cassandra nodded slowly. It was dangerous. It was risky. But it was the only way.
"Okay," she said. "We do it."
---
That night, Cassandra received another text from Marcus Kane.
You think you've found the truth. But you've only scratched the surface. The real traitor is closer than you think. They're sleeping in your bed.
Cassandra stared at the screen, her blood running cold.
She looked at Dante, sleeping beside her. His face was peaceful, relaxed.
She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't.
But the seed of doubt had been planted.
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







