Lahat ng Kabanata ng THE DON'S MISSING PIECE : Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

Cassandra stared at the baby's rattle.It was small—pink and white, with tiny bells that jingled when she moved it. The kind of thing you'd buy for a newborn. The kind of thing that should have been innocent.But it wasn't innocent. Nothing was innocent anymore.The note was simple. You're pregnant. Aren't you?She wasn't pregnant. She couldn't be. She'd been careful. But the fact that someone thought she was—that someone was watching her closely enough to speculate—terrified her.She didn't show Dante. Not yet. He was still healing. Still fragile. She didn't want to add more weight to his shoulders.She tucked the rattle into a drawer, buried it under a pile of old papers. Then she took a breath and went to find Jane.---Jane was in the kitchen, preparing lunch.She looked up when Cassandra entered, her expression soft with concern. "Miss Cassandra? What's wrong?"Cassandra hesitated. Then she told Jane about the rattle. About the note. About her suspicions.Jane's face went pale. "

Dante refused to leave the hospital. He sat by Cassandra's bedside, her hand in his, watching the monitors beep and flicker. The machines were the only sound in the room—a steady rhythm that told him she was still alive. Still fighting. Hours passed. Then days. He didn't eat. Didn't sleep. Didn't move. Jane brought him coffee, food, clean clothes. He ignored all of it. His eyes never left Cassandra's face. She looked so small in the hospital bed. So fragile. Her skin was pale, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with each breath. The doctors said she was stable—but they didn't know when she'd wake up. Or if she'd wake up at all. Dante couldn't accept that. He wouldn't. "Come back to me," he whispered. "Please. Come back."---While Dante kept vigil, Marco investigated. He questioned every staff member. He searched

Cassandra walked out of the holding facility on unsteady legs.The cold air hit her face, sharp and biting, but she barely felt it. Her mind was still trapped in that small room, still hearing Jane's words echoing in her skull. You're a monster. You just don't know it yet.She wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers digging into her sleeves. Her chest felt tight. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.Dante was waiting outside.He stood by the car, his hands shoved into his pockets, his jaw tight. The moment he saw her, he crossed the distance between them in three long strides. His hands found her face, tilting it up toward his."Hey," he said softly. "Look at me."She looked at him. Her eyes were red, swollen. Her lips trembled."I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have protected you. I should have seen what she was.""You did protect me." Her voice cracked. "You found her. You saved me."He shook his head. "I should have done more."She didn't argue. She didn't have the stre

Evelyn was gone.Cassandra sat beside her grandmother's bed, still holding her hand. The room was silent—no beeping machines, no ragged breathing, no whispered prayers. Just silence. The kind of silence that filled every corner, every crevice, every empty space in her chest.She didn't cry. She didn't speak. She just sat there, staring at the woman who had raised her. The woman who had lied to her. The woman who had loved her.Dante stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. He didn't speak either. He just stayed.---The funeral was small.Just Cassandra, Dante, Samantha, and a few of Evelyn's old friends—women Cassandra had never met, who spoke in hushed voices about what a good person Evelyn had been. Cassandra listened, but the words didn't register. They felt distant, like they were talking about someone else.She stood at the graveside, a single white rose in her hand. The sky was gray, the air cold. She stared at the casket as it was lowered into the ground.She didn

Cassandra stared at the name on the paper.Evelyn.Her grandmother. The woman who raised her. The woman who just died. The woman who betrayed her mother.She didn't want to believe it. But the evidence was there—her mother's own words, her suspicions, her fears. Grace had known someone betrayed her. She'd suspected who it was. She'd just never been able to prove it.Dante took the paper from her hands. He read it. His jaw tightened."We need to find out if this is true," he said quietly.Cassandra nodded. She couldn't speak. Her throat was too tight.---The letter came with a key.A small, rusted key. Old. Worn. The kind of key that opened something that hadn't been opened in years. And a note, in the same elegant handwriting.The basement. Beneath the stairs.Cassandra knew which basement. The old mansion—the one where she grew up. The one her grandmother owned. The one where she'd spent her childhood, thinking she was safe, thinking she was loved.She'd been living in a lie.---Th