All Chapters of THE CHARADE: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

AVA'S POVThe memory of Dante’s proximity in the study was a brand on my skin and my soul as well. A confusion I couldn’t shake off. I needed to do something, to claw back some control. The Volkov Prisoner. He was the key. If I could get any more info from him– a name, a date, anything concerning my father’s dealings– maybe I could turn this entire disastrous mission around and save father from making a terrible mistake, and maybe just maybe find a way he gets what he wants without hurting Dante’s empire. The mansion was silent, it felt more like a sleeping graveyard. I moved like a ghost through halls, down the back staircase that led to the dark parts of Dante’s empire. The air grew colder, damp smelling of stale water, blood and something metallic. The dungeon corridor was lit by bare, low wattage bulbs that casted long dancing shadows. I heard a low groan before I saw the source, it didn’t quite sound like how I remembered that Volkov wailed in pain. This was a weaker,more desp

CHAPTER THIRTEENThe tension in the mansion was heightening, suffocating and mentally draining. Dante’s presence seemed to fill every room, his gaze felt like they were following me constantly even when he wasn’t near. I could still feel it. I could feel his frustration growing. It kind of gave me a silver cold satisfaction. I was burying myself in financial ledgers when Kyle strode into the office, a bag of takeout in his hand. He dropped it on the corner of my desk with a thud. “You look like you could use this,” he said, his tone lighter than the room was. “You’ve been staring at the screen for so long, I’m surprised there’s no hole in it.”I didn’t look up. “I’m not hungry.”“Tough. You are gonna waste away to nothing, and then who will I annoy all day?” He leaned against the desk, deliberately blocking my view of the monitor. “Seriously, Newbie. What’s got worked out? Dante is a pain in the neck, isn’t he?” The concern in his voice was genuine, and for a second, it threatened

DANTE’S POVThe mansion, usually a showcase of my controlled power, felt different tonight. The silence was no longer empty like I always wanted it to be; it was watchful; it was threatening; it was vague. The polished marble floor and the dark wood panels seemed to hold their breath, absorbing the tension that had been brewing under my nose for days. Kyle’s revelation about the deleted files was a live wire in my brain, sizzling, sparking with questions ‘Why Cavallaro? Who was in my empire and was protecting him?’ Why questions bubbled into suspicious and doubts, doubts all pointed to one person alone. Sophia.I found her not in her assigned office but in a library, she was leaning like a snake. I now presumed she was against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights reflecting against her form. She held a book, but her gaze was fixed on the distant glitter, her posture rigid. The perfect icy assistant, lost in forbidden thoughts or maybe scheming plans?The click of the door cl

AVA'S POVBrazil was like a fever dream of vibrant color and oppressive heat. The sun was a brutal menace, in the sky of an outerworld blue. The air was thick and heavy with the scent of salt, blooming alcohol and distant smoke of grilling meat. It felt wonderful and absolutely tiring at the same time. Our days were a grueling cycle of intense meetings that felt non-stop, never ending torture. From the moment we landed getting off Dante’s private jet, it had been a whirlwind of work, after work and only a tiny fraction of the trip felt like a vacation.Despite the constant overwhelming work, Dante was a statue, in fact a robot through it all, I was already complaining within me with what Kyle had described as little compared to what they usually do. I could only imagine how he handled the pressure on him because he never showed any fatigue, not even for a split second throughout it all, and I was his silent , efficient shadow, taking notes of meetings and calculating risk factors. It

Ava’s povThe party was a gallery of monsters in expensive suits. The same low murmur of negotiations disguised as friendly conversation, the same hollow laughter, the same predatory glint in the eyes of men who traded in human misery. It was a combination of everything I despised, and without Kyle’s easy presence to act as a distraction, the walls felt like they were closing in. I spotted an empty, plush chair tucked into a shadowy corner, a small island of refuge and comfort. Perfect. I could sit, sip this champagne I had no intention of drinking, and wait for the bartender’s bruised face with a fresh scar stuck in my mind–a stark warning against any casual fling of conversation. But as I walked toward the chair, a gaze, heavy and intrusive, locked onto me. I felt it before I saw it–a slithering sensation tracing up my spine. I turned my head slightly to see a man in a deep black suit, standing apart from the crowd, a glass of dark liquor in his hand. He wasn’t just looking, it fe