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I was busy scanning the newspaper when my eyes landed on his face. I gave a bitter smile—still handsome, still emotionless.
"Cassandra? Let’s go, or someone might take our spot. Careful as you stand up," said Lory, my only friend in this world. She stood at the door of my small house, holding a basket of goods. I set the newspaper down, grabbed my basket filled with soman and bico, and smiled at her. "Ready?" she asked. I nodded. When we arrived at the market, all the vendors stared at me—just me. I lowered my head as I headed to my stall, hearing their whispers clearly. "Here comes the disgraced one." "There she is, the curse to our market." "She’s pretty, but such a fool." "You said it." "Shh, lower your voices. She might hear you." I sighed as I set up my goods, ignoring their gossip. They didn’t know anything, and I was used to their cruelty. No matter how much it hurt, I refused to show it. I wanted to seem strong, even though deep down, I felt like I was being stabbed repeatedly. My life was a mess—I already knew that. Months passed with the same routine. The only change was staring at his face on newspapers, billboards, and TV. Today was no different. I was watching my favorite show while eating an apple when breaking news interrupted. "The world’s most famous and wealthy bachelor was spotted at his airline company. Sources say Mr. Smith is headed abroad for a private life and will manage his empire in Italy, staying there for at least two months. It’s unclear what sparked this sudden decision. This is Katie Tiangco for showbiz news—stay updated via F******k, T*****r, and YouTube. Thank you, and good day to all." I bit my lip. He’s leaving the country. What’s he planning? His private life? Even surrounded by bodyguards, the camera still caught his striking looks—he hadn’t changed. If anything, he looked even more muscular. Six months after that news, I was at the mall with Rea for window shopping, mostly to enjoy the air conditioning. I hadn’t heard anything about him since then. "Look, Cassandra! It’s Mr. Dark Zacchaeus Voughnn Smith on the screen. Who’s that woman with him? She’s gorgeous." The news was about him again, this time with a stunning woman by his side. "Today, we introduce Mr. Smith and his fiancée. They wanted to share the exciting news about their relationship." I froze in my seat, staring at the giant screen in the food court. His face, once dark and emotionless, was now lit with happiness. He gazed at the woman beside him with pure love. His authoritative voice was filled with joy as he answered the reporter’s questions—a sight I never thought possible. "So, Mr. Smith, when’s the wedding?" "Soon. Very soon." "We’re thrilled you’re back in the Philippines with your fiancée, Mr. Smith." "I’m happy to be here as well." "How’s life treating you, Mr. Smith?" "I’m incredibly happy. I’m with my beautiful fiancée, who will soon be my queen." He kissed her cheek, making her blush as she playfully slapped his muscular arm. Even the reporter giggled. I bit my lip as he laughed—the man I thought was heartless and cold had found happiness. I thought I could forget his face, everything about him, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t. His presence haunted me, the pain he caused still fresh in my heart. I remembered every detail of that night. The moonlight was the only witness to what happened. It had changed my life into a nightmare, one that plagued me every night. I wanted to speak out, scream to the world, but I knew no one would listen. No one would believe me. I wanted to report him, but I was terrified. Terrified they would twist the story because I had no power. I was voiceless. Forever voiceless. No one knew but me. I was a victim of a bitter experience, and even though the words people threw at me stung, I stayed quiet. I didn’t want trouble. I endured it because I knew the truth—I was just a victim of a cruel fate. "You two are such a perfect couple. So sweet." A tear fell down my cheek as I stared at his wide smile. I gently touched my swollen belly, forcing a smile as I remembered his final words that night. "Get her out of my sight. I don’t f*cking need her anymore." I guess it’s time to finally forget him and everything about my past, no matter how hard it may be. I’ll bury it deep inside, even if it hurts. And I’ll remain voiceless. A silent victim. Because I was pregnant by a notorious mafia lord, and I can’t do anything but accept my melancholic fate.We both turned our eyes toward the two boys standing proudly before Dark’s men. Their faces were glowing with excitement, eager to introduce themselves.“Hi, uncles! I’m Zebediah Ursula! But just call me Zebe or Diah, not Ursula—only my brothers call me that. Nice to meet you all!” Zebediah said cheerfully, bowing slightly like a little princess.“Me! Me! Me!” Zuhair shouted next, bouncing on his feet in excitement.Dark leaned close, his breath brushing my ear. “Is he always this energetic?” he whispered, his arm tightening around my waist.“Yes,” I whispered back, smiling. “And I have no idea who he got it from. You’re grumpy, and I’m quiet—well, a little bubbly, maybe.” I chuckled softly, but froze when I heard him laugh too. That low, husky laugh of his—it sent a strange, warm shiver down my spine.“My name is Zuhair Eros! I’m six years old!” Zuhair declared proudly, holding up six little fingers. The men burst into laughter, even the usually stoic ones smiling at his confidence.
The moment I heard the voice, I turned sharply toward the door. My heart froze.Dark stood there. His clothes drenched in blood, a gun dangling from one hand. His eyes were locked on my two sleeping sons on the sofa, unblinking, motionless. He looked like a statue—stunned, speechless, as though the sight before him had stolen the breath from his lungs.My gaze shifted to Zuhair, who now had his little water gun pointed straight at him.“Give me your rifle before you come in,” Zuhair demanded, his small voice laced with authority.I couldn’t help but groan softly and rub my forehead. I glanced at Lory, who was standing nearby, staring at the scene in disbelief.“Sh*t, friend. That’s a lot of eye candy,” Lory muttered under her breath, half-joking.I frowned and turned back toward the door—Dark wasn’t alone. Several men stood behind him, all armed, their faces grim and battle-worn.Despite the anger simmering inside me, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry. He saved my life, after a
“You’re arrogant filth. Useless. Weak.” He smiled like a demon and kneed them hard in the neck, then followed with brutal kicks to their stomachs.“P-please… have mercy,” Fugo croaked, knowing it was unlikely but trying anyway. Darkness rolled off of Dark like a physical thing, dangerous and absolute.“Mercy isn’t in my vocabulary. Face your consequences,” Dark said flatly, and pulled the trigger.Two shots rang out. The men slumped, fresh blood pooling beneath them. Justice, served.“Falcon, come here. Dismember them. Send their heads to our rivals. Blow up whatever property they have left. Burn their mansions and kill their families. I want them erased. Completely gone,” he ordered, adjusting the white sleeves now stained with blood. That was Dark—merciless, lethal.The remaining enemies tried to run, but Dark would not allow it. Who dared step into his world and flee? No chance. A bazooka blast took care of a few who tried to escape and Ace had that weapon in hand.As Dark turned a
“The mother, I guess,” Falcon said.Falcon paused his firing to listen to the chatter in his earpiece. Grey leaned against a mounted machine gun, smoking a cigarette as he watched the chaos unfold.“Did I miss something?” Grey asked.“Right. Right, boss Falcon,” Virgo answered.“F*ck. This is corny,” Demitri grunted.“Honey? Is she a bee?” Ace asked, brow furrowed as he kept firing. Demitri shot casual bursts as if he were playing, while Phoenix manned the sniper nest.Falcon, voice rough over the line, went on: “Slow as f*ck. Honey because the mother is sweet. She is the honey Dark wants to taste. Dark is the bee and the mother is the honey. Goddamn.”“Corny as always,” Demitri said with a snort.“What was her name again?” Ace asked.“Cassandra. Cassandra Echidna Nyx Evangelista,” Phoenix replied.“A Greek name? Holy sh*t,” Grey said.“Yeah. Echidna, mother of monsters. Nyx draws dark mists,” Phoenix added.“Are they meant to be?” Ace wondered.“Maybe,” Demitri shrugged.“Aw, boss go
Dr. Montero pushed his glasses up and studied the screen with Dark. “I don’t think they had surgery. They’re too young for that. And if they were clones, how do you explain their behavior? They even have your eye color. Everything matches you except their lips—I’m betting those came from their mother.”Dark’s face went crimson. “Did you just stare at her lips, you idiot?” he roared, voice booming through the room. The four men behind him stared as if their boss had sprouted horns and a tail. Blood rushed to Dark’s neck and ears; veins stood out along his jaw.Montero broke into laughter. “Ha! Your expression is priceless, man.”“Shut up,” Dark snapped. “So what now? Are they my sons or not? Stop laughing, you idiot.”“All right, all right. Calm down. We don’t know yet,” Montero said, still smirking as he shrugged. “Maybe you should investigate further.”Dark ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. The pressure of the moment pressed down on him.“But it’s unlikely they’re from some ot
“Show me the CCTV footage at R143.”They pulled it up without hesitation. The room fell into a heavy silence as everyone’s eyes locked on the screen. Cassandra’s door opened; Zephyr walked out beside her, they exchanged a smile, then he left.“Stop. Record the time. Now pull the feed from the 6th floor, where he went out,” Dark ordered.They obliged, frozen frames and time stamps captured. On the next clip the mother and child entered a restroom. A few beats later only the mother came out — now in a summer outfit, sunglasses on, a sling bag across her shoulder. It was odd, but irrelevant. Their focus was on the child everyone called the “little monster.”“Christ, the tension in here is killing me,” one tech whispered, jaw tight.“Shut up,” another hissed, trying to hide his own nerves.A few minutes later the restroom door opened again. The little monster emerged in his Iron Man shirt, fussing with his hair. The camera angle was distant; they couldn’t read his face. But his walk — the







