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Holding Her
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2026-10-09 13:05:58Cassandra woke in Dante's arms.
The morning light was soft, filtering through the curtains in golden streams. She lay still for a moment, her body heavy with sleep, her mind quiet. The events of yesterday felt like a distant storm—the tears, the breakdown, the overwhelming weight of everything she'd been carrying.
She felt lighter now. Not healed. Not whole. But lighter.
Dante was still asleep beside her. His arm was draped across her waist, his hand resting on her stomach. His breath was warm against her neck. She watched him for a long moment—the way his chest rose and fell, the way his lips curved into a small, peaceful smile.
She reached up, her fingers tracing his jaw. He stirred.
"Good morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
"Good morning."
He opened his eyes slowly. They were soft, warm. Full of love.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Better." She pressed a kiss to his chest. "Much better."
---
They lay there for a while, tangled together.
Dante's hand moved in slow circles on her stomach. She could feel the baby inside her—a tiny flutter, a gentle kick. She pressed her hand over his.
"I want to finish what she started," Cassandra said quietly.
Dante looked at her. "Your mother?"
"Yes. I want to expose the truth. About Vincent. About Marcus Kane. About everything." She paused. "But I also want to live. I want to enjoy this pregnancy. I want to prepare for the baby. I want to be happy."
Dante was silent for a moment. Then he nodded.
"Then we'll do both," he said. "We'll expose the truth. And we'll live."
She looked at him. "You promise?"
"I promise."
---
They spent the day together.
No business. No files. No danger. Just them.
They walked in the garden, their hands intertwined. The roses were in full bloom, their petals soft and fragrant. Dante picked one, tucking it behind her ear.
"For you," he said.
She laughed. "You're a romantic."
"Don't tell anyone."
They sat by the fire in the library, curled up on the same sofa. She rested her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair. They talked about the baby—names, nurseries, futures.
"If it's a girl," Cassandra said, "I want to name her Grace."
Dante smiled. "It's perfect."
"And if it's a boy?"
"Then we'll name him after my grandfather. Leonardo."
Cassandra's heart swelled. "I like that."
---
That night, Cassandra couldn't sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. The baby kicked. Her thoughts swirled. She thought about her mother. About Grace, who died protecting her. About the legacy she'd left behind.
Dante sensed her restlessness. He pulled her close. His arms wrapped around her, warm and steady.
"Talk to me," he whispered.
"I'm scared," she admitted. "Not of the danger. Not of Marcus. Of being a mother. Of failing."
"You won't fail."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're the strongest person I've ever known." He kissed her forehead. "And because you won't be alone. I'll be right there with you. Every step. Every moment."
She looked up at him. Her eyes were wet.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you too."
---
Dante made a promise that night.
He held her close, his lips pressed to her hair, and spoke.
"I will be there for you," he said. "Every step. Every moment. I will protect you and the baby. I will build a life for us. A real life."
Cassandra closed her eyes. She believed him.
---
That night, Cassandra dreamed of her mother.
But this time, Grace wasn't sad. She was smiling. She was holding a baby—Cassandra. And she was whispering something.
This time, Cassandra heard it.
Live.
Bab terbaru
THE DON'S MISSING PIECE The Frame-up
Cassandra couldn't stop thinking about Daniel.She sat by Grace's crib, watching her daughter sleep. The baby was peaceful—her tiny chest rising and falling, her lips slightly parted, her fists curled against her cheeks. Cassandra reached through the bars, her finger brushing Grace's hand.The baby stirred. Her tiny fingers wrapped around Cassandra's finger.Cassandra's eyes filled with tears.---Dante found her there an hour later.He stood in the doorway, watching her. His jaw was tight. His eyes were tired."You should sleep," he said quietly."I can't."He crossed the room, sitting beside her. His hand found her back."Talk to me."She told him. About the doubt. About the phone record. About the way Daniel had looked at her—the fear, the desperation, the truth."I want to believe him," she whispered. "But the evidence is there."Dante didn't respond. He just held her.---The next morning, Dante called Evan."I need you to dig deeper," he said. "Into the phone record. Into Donald
THE DON'S MISSING PIECE The Weight Of Everything
Dante couldn't sleep.He sat in the hospital waiting room, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The vending machine whirred. The night nurse shuffled past, her footsteps soft against the linoleum.He didn't look up.The memory played on a loop in his mind—Donald's face, the gunshot, the body falling. He'd killed before. He'd killed his own father. He'd killed men who deserved it. But this time, it felt different.He didn't want to do it.He'd stood there, his finger on the trigger, his hand trembling. He'd listened to Donald's apologies, his regrets, his broken words. He'd seen the fear in his eyes. And he'd pulled the trigger anyway.He stood abruptly.He needed air. He needed to get out of this room, out of this hospital, away from the beeping monitors and the antiseptic smell. He walked through the automatic doors and stepped outside.The night air was cold against his skin. The parking lot was empty—just a few cars, a few streetli
THE DON'S MISSING PIECE What He Didn't Want
Cassandra stared at the text.Congratulations on the baby. Too bad she won't live to see her first birthday.Her blood ran cold. Her hands trembled. Her heart stopped.She showed Dante. His face went pale—then dark with fury."He's not going to touch her," Dante said. His voice was ice. "I won't let him."---Dante made a decision.No more waiting. No more traps. He was going after Donald. Tonight. And this time, he wasn't coming back until Donald was dead or in custody.Cassandra insisted on coming.Dante refused. He told her it was too dangerous. He told her she needed to stay with Grace. He told her he couldn't risk her.She wouldn't back down."I'm not letting you face him alone," she said. "Not after what he said about Grace.""Cassandra—""I'm coming."They devised a strategy.Marco, Evan, Adrian, and Daniel would provide backup. Samantha would stay with Grace at the hospital. Dante and Cassandra would confront Donald together.---Evan tracked Donald to an abandoned warehouse o
THE DON'S MISSING PIECE The Longest Night
Dante stared at the text."You want the records? Come and get them. Bring Cassandra. Or I'll release everything." His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists around the phone.Cassandra stood beside him, her hand on his arm. "What does it say?"He showed her.She read it twice. Her face went pale. "It's a trap.""I know.""But if you don't go—""He'll release the records." Dante's voice was flat. "Every crime. Every secret. Every murder. The Moretti name will be destroyed. And he'll keep hunting us."Cassandra insisted on coming.Dante refused. He told her it was too dangerous. He told her she needed to stay with Grace. He told her he couldn't risk her.She wouldn't back down."I'm not letting you walk into a trap alone," she said. "We face this together. Or not at all."Before Dante could respond, Grace's cry cut through the house.It wasn't her usual hungry wail. It was weak. Feeble. A thin, reedy sound that made Cassandra's blood run cold.She rushed to the nursery.Grace was p
THE DON'S MISSING PIECE An Uninvited Guest
Dante took Cassandra to look at properties by the lake.They'd been searching for weeks—ever since that night on the porch when he'd promised her a real home. He'd made calls, talked to real estate agents, narrowed down the list. Now, finally, they were here.The first house was too big. A sprawling mansion with more rooms than they could ever fill. Cassandra walked through it, her footsteps echoing against the marble floors, and shook her head."Too cold," she said. "Too empty."Dante nodded. He didn't argue.---The second house was too small.A tiny cabin with one bedroom and a kitchen that barely fit two people. Cassandra stood in the doorway, looking at the cramped space, and laughed."We'd kill each other within a week."Dante grinned. "Probably."---The third house was perfect.It was a small cottage on the edge of the water—wooden, warm, surrounded by trees. The paint was peeling. The floors creaked. The roof needed work. But it had something the other houses didn't.It had s
THE DON'S MISSING PIECE The Man Who Loved Isabella
Cassandra stared at the photograph.It was Grace—sleeping in her crib, her tiny fists curled against her chest, her face peaceful. The photograph was taken from outside the window. From the garden. From the darkness.Her blood ran cold.She showed Dante. His face went pale. His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists at his sides."Who sent this?" he demanded."I don't know." Her voice was shaking. "There's no return address. No name. Nothing."Dante ordered a full security sweep.Marco and his men searched the property—the garden, the fence line, the trees. They found footprints outside the nursery window. Fresh. Someone had been there. Recently.Dante doubled the security. Tripled it. He told Cassandra she wasn't to leave the house. No exceptions.She didn't argue.---Evan dug into the letter that afternoon.He examined the handwriting. The paper. The photograph. He cross-referenced everything with old files, old records, old enemies.He found something.A name. Someone connecte
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