Losing to her

Cassandra stared at the crumpled note in the trash.

Ask him about Isabella. Ask him why she really left.

She wanted to ignore it. Wanted to pretend she'd never seen it. But the words had burrowed under her skin, planting seeds of doubt she couldn't shake.

She thought about Dante. The way his face hardened whenever Isabella's name was mentioned. The way he'd said, I was blind. I trusted her completely.

She wanted to ask him. Needed to know the truth.

But she was terrified of what she might find.

Her head throbbed. A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes. She pressed her palm to her forehead. Warm. Too warm.

Probably just tired, she thought. I didn't sleep well.

She shook it off, pushing the thought away. There was too much to deal with. She couldn't afford to be sick.

---

The next morning, Cassandra couldn't sleep.

She wandered downstairs, hoping the quiet would soothe her. But the mansion was never quiet. Not with the aunt lurking in every shadow.

"Couldn't sleep?" The aunt's voice slithered out of the darkness.

Cassandra spun around. The woman was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in her hand, her smile sharp and knowing.

"I know you found the note," the aunt said. "I left it for you. You should thank me."

Cassandra's hands shook, but her voice was steady. "You're trying to destroy us."

"I'm trying to save Dante from making the same mistake twice." The aunt stood, circling the table toward her. "Isabella broke him. She destroyed everything he was. And you'll do the same."

"I'm not Isabella."

"No?" The aunt stopped in front of her. "She said the same thing. She said she loved him. And then she ripped his heart out."

Cassandra's throat tightened. Her head pounded harder. She blinked, trying to focus.

"What happened with Isabella?" she asked.

The aunt's smile widened. "Ask him. See if he tells you the truth."

She brushed past Cassandra, her heels clicking against the marble.

"You'll destroy him," she called over her shoulder. "It's only a matter of time."

---

Cassandra retreated to her room.

She sat on the bed, her mind churning. The aunt's words echoed in her head. Isabella broke him. You'll destroy him completely.

Her head felt heavy. Her skin was clammy. She pressed her hand to her forehead again. Definitely warm.

It's just stress, she told herself. Everything will be fine.

But the doubt lingered. The ache in her skull. The knot in her stomach. She couldn't tell which was worse.

---

Dante found the note in the trash.

His blood ran cold. He recognized the handwriting immediately. His aunt's. Cold, precise, venomous.

He stormed through the mansion, searching for her. He found her in the library, reading, her expression calm and unbothered.

"You will not touch her again." His voice was deadly quiet. "You will not speak to her. You will not even look at her."

The aunt set down her book, her smile unfazed. "Or what? You'll hurt me? Your own family?"

"You're not family. Not anymore."

She laughed. "You can't protect her from everything, Dante. Eventually, she'll see you for what you really are."

"And what is that?"

"A man who destroys everything he touches."

---

Dante went to Cassandra's room.

He found her sitting on the bed, her face pale, her eyes red. She looked so small. So broken. His chest ached.

She looked up when he entered. "You found the note."

"Yes." He crossed the room, kneeling in front of her. "I should have told you about it. I should have protected you from her."

"You can't protect me from everything."

"I can try." His hands cupped her face. "I will try. For the rest of my life."

Cassandra's eyes searched his. "I need to know, Dante. What really happened with Isabella?"

Dante was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"I was twenty-four," he said quietly. "I thought I was in love. I thought she was the one. She was beautiful, smart, everything I'd ever wanted."

"What happened?"

"I trusted her." His voice was raw. "I told her everything. My plans. My fears. My weaknesses. And she used all of it against me."

Cassandra's heart ached. "She betrayed you."

"She fed information to my rivals. She nearly destroyed everything my father had built." Dante's hands fell to his sides. "When I found out, I confronted her. She laughed. She told me I was a fool for ever trusting her."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "She was right."

Cassandra pulled him into her arms. "You were young. You were in love. It's not your fault."

"It was my fault." His voice was muffled against her shoulder. "I should have seen it. I should have known."

"You're not blind anymore." She pulled back, her hands cupping his face. "You see me. And I see you."

Something in his eyes flickered. Hope. Love. Gratitude.

"But why does your aunty always sound like there is more?" 

"There is nothing else, I can't lie to you." Dante leaned into her, "believe me and forgot about what she feeds to you." 

Cassandra was silent.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much it terrifies me."

"Me too." She kissed him, soft and sure. "We'll get through this. Together."

The feverish heat was forgotten. The doubt was pushed away. All she could feel was him.

---

The next morning, Cassandra found the aunt packing her bags.

"You've won," the aunt said coldly. "For now. But this isn't over."

Cassandra watched her, her expression unreadable. "You were wrong about me, you know."

The aunt paused. "Was I?"

"I'm not Isabella. I'm not going to break him." Cassandra stepped closer. "I'm going to heal him."

The aunt's smile faltered. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes. Doubt? Regret? Then it was gone.

As she walked out the door, she whispered, "You may have him now. But Isabella will always have his heart."

The door clicked shut.

Cassandra stood alone in the hallway, her hands trembling. She pressed her palm to her forehead again. The fever was worse. Her skin was burning.

But she smiled.

Isabella didn't have Dante's heart. She did.

And she wasn't going to let anyone take it away.