All Chapters of Liars Like Us - Book 1: Legacy of Lies: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The morning light slashed through the penthouse windows, casting a harsh gold glow on the marble floors.Valentina sat at the edge of the bed, the silk sheets pooled around her waist. She hadn’t slept — not really. Every time she closed her eyes, Dante’s voice echoed back: Cruz is your father. And when that voice faded, the memory of his mouth on hers returned, brutal, searing, impossible to untangle from the truth he’d shoved down her throat.She pressed her palms into her eyes, willing the fragments into silence. But nothing dulled them.The sound of footsteps made her drop her hands.Dante stood in the doorway, already dressed in another immaculate suit, black with a slate-gray tie.

The closet door stood open, gowns draped like weapons on display. Valentina stood before the mirror, her skin bare except for the faint bruises at her throat — his fingerprints, painted in violet and shadow.She dabbed concealer lightly, covering just enough to pass, leaving a faint trace for herself alone. Proof. A reminder.The gown waiting for her was diamonds and lace, sheer where it should scandalize, shimmering where it should dazzle. She slid into it slowly, the fabric whispering over her skin, hiding the bruises, sharpening her silhouette into something untouchable.Her lips, painted crimson, curved at her reflection. A smile sharp as glass.Behind her, Dante stood in the doorway, already suited in black, his tie knotted, cufflinks gleaming. His chest still bore

The penthouse was too bright in the morning.Golden light spilled through the glass walls, hitting the wreckage of last night — lace torn across the floor, diamonds scattered across the glass table, wine glasses overturned like casualties. The scent of smoke, sex, and silk still clung to the air.Valentina stirred, the sheets cool against her bare skin. She winced as she sat up, muscles sore, bruises blooming violet and blue across her throat and hips. Her crimson lips had faded to a faint smear, but the marks Dante left were vivid, sharp, and undeniable.She padded barefoot across the marble toward the mirror.Her reflection met her with merciless clarity: diamonds tangled in her hair, lace torn beyond repair, her throat circled with dark fingerprints. Her lips curved i

The alley smelled of smoke and wet stone, narrow walls pressing in like a cage.Valentina’s pulse thundered as the two men stepped closer. One dragged on his cigarette, the ember flaring bright, throwing shadows over the tattoo curling across his hand — Cruz’s mark. The other smiled slowly, wolfishly, blocking the only exit.“Valentina Moretti,” the smoker said, her name curling out with smoke. “Or should we say Valentina Cruz?”Her crimson smile wavered. “You’ve got the wrong girl.”The taller man chuckled. “No. We’ve got exactly the right one. Our boss has been waiting a long time for this moment.” His gaze slid over her, not lustful but heavy, assessing. “The blood doesn’t lie.”Her throat tightened, the bruises from Dante

The silk clung heavily against her skin.Valentina sat before the mirror, lace spilling across her lap, diamonds coiled at her throat. The veil shimmered beside her, delicate as spider silk, waiting to be pinned into place.Her crimson lips were the last touch. She traced the bullet slowly across her mouth, each stroke deliberate, precise — the same ritual that had saved her a hundred times before.“Lipstick, lace, lies,” she whispered, the words for herself alone. “Just another con.”But the reflection didn’t believe her.The bruises beneath the powder still showed faint signs of blooming. The ring, heavy and gold, waited on the tray beside her — not a jewel, but a chain.She lea