INICIAR SESIÓNIsabella's smile was a knife.
Cassandra felt it cutting through her, sharp and precise. The woman was beautiful—flawless skin, ice-blonde hair, eyes that glittered like diamonds. But there was nothing warm about her. Everything about Isabella Moore was calculated. Cold. Dangerous.
"Dante." Isabella's voice was a purr. "You look well. Marriage agrees with you."
"We're not married yet," Dante said flatly.
"Ah, yes. The engagement." Isabella's eyes flicked to Cassandra. "How... unexpected."
Cassandra's grip tightened on her glass. She wouldn't let this woman intimidate her. "Is there something you want?"
Isabella's smile widened. "Straight to the point. I like that." She leaned closer. "I just wanted to welcome you to the family. I know how... overwhelming it can be."
"I'm not overwhelmed."
"No?" Isabella's voice dropped. "You should be. This world eats girls like you for breakfast."
Cassandra met her gaze. "Then I'll be the exception."
Isabella's smile faltered. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes—surprise, maybe. Or respect.
She straightened, smoothing her dress. "Well, it was lovely meeting you. I'm sure we'll see each other again." She looked at Dante. "Goodbye, Dante."
She walked away, her heels clicking against the marble. Cassandra watched her go, her heart pounding.
"Who is she?" Cassandra asked.
Dante's jaw tightened. "Someone I used to know. A long time ago."
"Used to know?"
"We were... involved." His voice was flat. "It ended badly."
Cassandra's stomach dropped. "She's your ex?"
"Something like that." He reached for her hand. "But she's nothing. A ghost from my past."
Cassandra wasn't sure she believed him. But she let it go. For now.
---
The next morning, the headlines were everywhere.
Dante Moretti's Secret Fiancée Revealed!
Who Is Cassandra Hayes?
The Mystery Woman Who Captured Chicago's Most Eligible Bachelor.
Cassandra stared at the newspapers spread across the breakfast table. Her face was on every front page. The gala. The kiss. The announcement. It was all there, splashed across the tabloids.
"I'm famous," she said flatly.
Dante's lips twitched. "You're news."
"I don't want to be news."
"I know." He reached across the table, taking her hand. "But it's part of this world. The media will always be watching."
Cassandra sighed. "How do you deal with it?"
"I ignore it." He squeezed her hand. "You learn to. Eventually."
She looked at him. "And if I can't?"
"Then I'll protect you. I'll always protect you."
Her heart ached. She believed him.
---
The paparazzi were camped outside the mansion gates.
Cassandra watched them from her window. They were like vultures, circling, waiting for a glimpse of her. She felt trapped. Caged.
Dante appeared behind her. "Ready?"
"For what?"
"We're going out. I need to show the world that you're not hiding. That you're not afraid."
Cassandra turned to face him. "I am afraid."
"I know." He cupped her face. "But you're going to pretend you're not. And I'll be right there with you. Every step."
She nodded. "Okay. Let's go."
They walked out of the mansion together. The paparazzi erupted. Cameras flashed. Voices shouted.
"Cassandra! Over here!"
"Is it true you're engaged?"
"How did you meet?"
"Are you pregnant?"
Cassandra's heart pounded.
She wanted to run, to hide. But Dante's hand was firm on her back, steadying her.
"Just walk," he murmured. "Keep your head up. Smile."
She did.
She smiled like she wasn't terrified. Like she belonged in this world.
Dante led her to the car. He opened the door, his hand on her head to protect her from the cameras. He slid in beside her, slamming the door shut.
"Good," he said. "You did good."
She exhaled shakily. "I thought I was going to pass out."
"You didn't. You were perfect."
She looked at him. His eyes were warm. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Somewhere quiet. Just us."
---
He took her to a rooftop garden.
It was hidden, private, a world away from the chaos. Flowers bloomed in every color. The city sprawled below them, glittering in the afternoon sun.
Cassandra stood at the railing, breathing in the fresh air. She felt lighter here. Freer.
"I didn't know places like this existed," she said.
"Neither did I." Dante stood beside her. "Until I needed to escape."
She looked at him. "You needed to escape?"
"All the time." His voice was quiet. "This world—it's suffocating. I've spent my whole life drowning in it."
She reached out, taking his hand. "You're not drowning anymore."
He looked at her. Something raw flickered in his eyes.
"I know," he said softly. "Because of you."
She didn't know what to say. So she said nothing. They stood in silence, watching the city below.
Then, her phone buzzed. A text.
You're making headlines. Too bad they won't remember you for long.
Cassandra's blood ran cold. She showed it to Dante.
His face hardened. "This ends now. I'm going to find out who's behind this."
He pulled out his phone, making calls. His voice was sharp, commanding.
Cassandra watched him, her heart pounding. She was tired of being scared. Tired of looking over her shoulder.
She wanted to fight back.
---
Dante ended the call. He turned to her, his eyes dark.
"We'll find them," he said. "I promise."
She stepped closer. "I know you will."
He pulled her into his arms. His grip was tight, protective.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispered. "I promise."
She clung to him.
"I know," she said. "I trust you."
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







