Semua Bab Liars Like Us - Book 1: Legacy of Lies: Bab 21 - Bab 30

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 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

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 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 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