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Not Another

Author: Endelin Starh
last update publish date: 2026-10-02 03:06:37

Dante Big Aunty was taken into custody.

Dante's men dragged her away, her threats echoing through the café. She screamed about revenge, about unfinished business, about how they'd never be safe. But her words faded as she was shoved into a waiting car.

Cassandra sat frozen at the table, her heart pounding, her hands trembling. The gun was still on the floor, a reminder of how close she'd come to death. Again.

Dante was at her side in an instant. He pulled her into his arms, his grip tight, desperate.

"I've got you," he whispered. "I've got you."

She didn't speak. She just held him.

---

They returned to the mansion.

Jane rushed to Cassandra the moment she walked through the door, her face pale with worry.

"Miss Cassandra! Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine," Cassandra said quietly. "I'm fine."

But she wasn't fine. She was shaken. The confrontation had brought back all the fear she'd been trying to bury. The feeling of being hunted. The feeling of never being safe.

Dante led her to their room. He helped her undress, his hands gentle. He guided her into a warm bath, washing her slowly, reverently.

She leaned into him, letting the warmth soothe her. Letting his presence calm her.

---

Later, they sat in bed.

Cassandra told Dante about the rattle. About the note. About how scared she'd been.

Dante listened in silence. His jaw tightened. His hands clenched into fists.

"She wasn't working alone," he said. "Someone helped her. Someone inside this house."

Cassandra nodded. "I know."

"I'm going to find them." His voice was cold. Determined. "And when I do—"

"Together," Cassandra said. "We find them together."

---

The investigation began immediately.

Dante questioned every staff member. Every guard. Every person who had access to the mansion. No one was above suspicion.

Jane was questioned first. She was terrified, but she answered every question honestly. She had nothing to hide.

The other maids were questioned. The cooks. The gardeners. Everyone.

No one knew anything.

---

The next morning, Jane brought Cassandra tea.

It was a ritual they'd developed over the past few weeks. Jane would bring tea, and they'd sit together, talking about nothing and everything. It was a small comfort—a moment of normalcy in a world that had become anything but normal.

Cassandra took a sip.

Then another.

Then she felt it.

A burning in her throat. A dizziness in her head. Her vision blurred. Her hands went numb.

The cup slipped from her fingers. It shattered on the floor.

"Miss Cassandra?" Jane's voice was distant, muffled. "Miss Cassandra!"

Cassandra tried to speak. Tried to move. But her body wouldn't cooperate. She slid off the bed, her legs giving out beneath her.

The last thing she saw was Jane's terrified face.

---

Dante was in his study when he heard the scream.

He ran. He ran faster than he'd ever run in his life. He burst into the bedroom and found Cassandra on the floor, her body limp, her lips blue.

"Cassandra!" He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands cupping her face. "Cassandra, can you hear me?"

She didn't respond.

Jane was sobbing in the corner. "I don't know what happened! She just—she just collapsed!"

Dante scooped Cassandra into his arms. "Call an ambulance. Now."

---

The drive to the hospital was a blur.

Marco drove like a man possessed, weaving through traffic, running red lights. Dante sat in the back, Cassandra cradled in his arms. He kept talking to her—kept telling her to hold on, to stay with him, to fight.

She didn't respond.

---

The hospital was chaos.

Doctors and nurses swarmed around Cassandra, checking her vitals, running tests, pumping her stomach. Dante was pushed aside, forced to wait in the hallway.

He paced. He prayed. He begged.

Hours passed.

Then the doctor emerged.

His face was grim.

"She's been poisoned," he said. "We don't know what kind yet. But it's serious."

Dante's blood ran cold. "Will she survive?"

The doctor hesitated. "We don't know. We're doing everything we can."

---

Dante sank into a chair.

His hands were shaking. His heart was pounding. His world was crumbling.

Someone had poisoned Cassandra. Someone in his own house. Someone he trusted.

He would find them. He would make them pay.

But first, he needed Cassandra to survive.

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  • 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

  • THE DON'S MISSING PIECE    New Feels Good

    Grace wouldn't sleep.She'd been crying for hours—not the soft, hungry cry from before, but a piercing, relentless wail that seemed to echo through the entire house. Cassandra had tried everything. Feeding. Changing. Rocking. Singing. Nothing worked.She was exhausted. Her body still ached from the birth. Her eyes burned with fatigue. Her mind was foggy.Dante was beside her, just as exhausted. He'd been taking turns with her—walking Grace around the room, singing softly, begging her to sleep. His voice was hoarse. His eyes were red."She hates us," he muttered."She doesn't hate us. She's a baby.""She's a tyrant."---At 5 AM, Cassandra broke down.She was sitting on the floor of the nursery, her back against the wall, tears streaming down her face. Grace was still crying in her arms. The sound was like a knife through her skull."I can't do this," she whispered. "I can't. I'm not strong enough."Dante found her there. He sat beside her, his back against the wall, his shoulder brush

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