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Home / Mafia / Liars Like Us - Book 1: Legacy of Lies / Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

All Chapters of Liars Like Us - Book 1: Legacy of Lies: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

41 Chapters

The First Crack

Morning light spilled in through the velvet curtains, gilding the chamber in pale gold.Valentina stirred first. The silk sheets tangled around her legs, cool against her skin, the faint ache between her thighs a reminder of the night before. She shifted, her eyes opening to find Dante stretched out beside her, the wolf at rest.He was on his back, head tipped slightly toward her, jawline sharp in the light, chest rising slow and steady. For once, his expression was unguarded. No mask. No command. Just a man — and still, every inch of him looked dangerous.She lay still for a moment, her gaze tracing the scars along his ribs, the veins that lined his arms, the curve of his throat. Something inside her twisted — a pull she didn’t want to name.Then her l

A Dance with Death

The mirror gleamed back at her, cruel and bright.Valentina traced crimson across her lips with steady hands, each stroke a blade, each curve a mask. Her gown was made of black silk, cut low and sharp, with diamonds glinting at her throat. Every detail was calculated — dazzling enough to silence rivals, dangerous enough to make allies hesitate.Her reflection whispered the truth back at her: This is just another con. Paint the smile. Play the part. Survive the night.Behind her, Dante’s reflection appeared, filling the doorway. He was in black again — tailored suit, cufflinks gleaming like daggers, mask of iron already in place. The wolf dressed as a king.His eyes lingered on her mouth before meeting hers in the glass. “To

The Betrayal

The violins still rang in his ears long after the last note had died.Dante’s hand stayed firm at Valentina’s waist as they left the ballroom, her crimson smile flashing for every watching eye. To the crowd, they looked unshakable — Romano and his bride, fire bound to steel.But inside, Dante’s chest burned.He felt the slip of the card into her hand, saw the faint tremor in her fingers before she tucked it away. He’d watched her read it in the shadows, her smile not faltering, her poise unbroken — but he knew. He always knew when she lied.The bride will choose. One survives.The words echoed in him like a gunshot.In the carriage, the city’s lights flickered past, gilde

The Shattered Glass

The clock ticked past three in the morning.Dante sat in his office, the city stretched black and gold beyond the glass wall. His desk was cluttered with reports, lists of names, fragments of intelligence — all useless. Carlo was dead. Cruz was bold. And somewhere in the shadows, there was a traitor feeding him.The whiskey in his glass was untouched now, its surface catching the faint light like molten amber. He’d had three. They hadn’t dulled the fire.Hours had passed since Valentina had left him standing in the bedroom, since her robe had swished past him and the door had closed softly behind her. He’d replayed that moment a hundred times in his head: her eyes, her smile, her silence.He wanted to storm after her. To demand the truth about the note. To cage her close

A Princess in Chains

The world came back in fragments.Stone. Cold. Damp. The faint drip of water somewhere in the dark.Valentina stirred, her head heavy, her lungs still stinging with the chemical Luca had pressed to her mouth. Her wrists ached, bound behind her back with coarse rope that scraped her skin raw.She forced her eyes open.The room was dim, lit by a single bare bulb that swung overhead, casting shadows across the stone walls. A narrow window near the ceiling was barred, moonlight slicing through the cracks.She tried to move. The chair beneath her was iron, bolted to the floor. The binds held.And then she heard it.Footsteps. Familiar.

The Don's Daughter

The silence pressed in on her like iron.Valentina sat hunched against the chair, wrists raw from the rope, her breath fogging faintly in the damp chill of the room. The bare bulb swung overhead, casting her shadow long and broken across the stone.Her lips were dry now, the crimson fading to a cracked hue. But she remembered the words Cruz had spoken as if they’d been carved into her skin.My blood. My princess. Every smile, every lie — proof of me in you.She forced a laugh, brittle in the darkness. “I belong to no one.”The sound bounced back at her, hollow.

The War Council

The bed was still cold.Dante sat at the edge of it, shirt half-buttoned, his head bowed, hands gripping his knees until his knuckles blanched. A month had passed, yet the sheets remained untouched, her perfume long since faded into nothing but memory. He refused to let the staff change the linens. Every morning, he woke to absence, and every morning it carved the fire deeper into him.Her voice echoed in his skull sometimes — laughter sharp as glass, whispers soft as sin. He told himself it was a memory. He told himself it wasn’t weakness.But weakness or not, it burned.He rose, sliding his jacket over broad shoulders, and crossed to the mirror. His reflection stared back: eyes bloodshot from nights spent awake, jaw set hard, suit immaculate despite the storm raging be

The Blood Oath

The gown they’d given her tonight was emerald silk, cut low across her collarbone, jewels glinting at her ears. A maid had laid it out hours before with quiet precision, as if Valentina had a choice.She let them dress her. Let them brush her crimson hair smooth, press diamonds into her hands. Let them make her into the picture of a beloved daughter, heir apparent, and princess gilded.Then she stepped out into the hall, where two guards waited like shadows.The estate was a palace — marble columns, vaulted ceilings, frescoes of saints staring down with painted judgment. But the air was heavy with smoke and steel, with whispers that died as she passed.Every door she walked through, every hall she crossed, she felt it: eyes, always on her.

The Lover's Secret

The masquerade glittered like sin.Velvet banners draped the vaulted ceilings, chandeliers dripping with gold and crystal, music swelling from a string quartet in the corner. Masked guests swirled across the marble floor, their laughter sharp, their whispers sharper.Cruz stood at the top of the staircase, his hand heavy on Valentina’s waist. “My princess,” he announced, voice smooth and certain. “Returned to her rightful place.”The applause thundered.Valentina descended at his side, emerald silk clinging to her frame, a golden mask veiling half her face. Her crimson smile dazzled, perfect, untouchable. She played her part, even as nausea coiled faintly in her stomach, her hand brushing the curve beneath the silk when no one looked.

A Lie too Far

The study was thick with smoke, the city glowing beyond the glass like a map of fire.Dante stood at the window, his reflection staring back — a man carved from iron, sleepless eyes rimmed red, jaw clenched tight enough to crack.The door opened. Marco entered, and with him the ally Dante had sent into Cruz’s masquerade. The man’s mask was gone now, his face drawn, his steps heavy with urgency.Dante didn’t turn. His voice was quiet, dangerous. “Speak.”The ally’s words came out measured and clipped. “I found her. I gave her your message. She gave me hers.”Dante turned then, his eyes burning. “Well?”The man swallowed hard. “She’s pregnant. Yours. And she said, 'If you’re going t

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