All Chapters of THE DON'S MISSING PIECE : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Cassandra barely slept.Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her grandmother's face—tear-streaked, broken, begging for forgiveness. She heard the words over and over. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.But sorry didn't bring her mother back. Sorry didn't undo twenty years of lies.Dante stayed close. He didn't push her to talk. He didn't try to fix it. He just held her when she cried and sat with her when she was silent. His presence was a quiet anchor in the storm.---The invitation arrived the next morning.A charity gala hosted by Marcus Kane. Black tie. High profile. The kind of event where powerful people gathered to see and be seen.Cassandra stared at the embossed card, her jaw tight. "It's a trap.""Obviously." Dante poured himself a cup of coffee. "But it's also an opportunity. Marcus will be there. His associates will be there. If we play our cards right, we might find something we can use.""You want to go?""I want to fight." He looked at her. "But only if you're ready."Cassand

Cassandra stared at the words written in blood.You're too late. She's already mine.Her blood ran cold. Her mind raced through a list of names—her grandmother, Samantha, Isabella, even Elena. Who had Marcus Kane taken? Who was he holding over her head now?Dante's jaw was tight. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He didn't know either. But he wasn't going to wait to find out."Search the building," he ordered his men. "Every room. Every closet. Every inch. Find something."They scattered, their footsteps echoing through the empty safe house.---They found nothing.The building was stripped clean. No documents. No weapons. No sign that anyone had ever been there. Just the message on the wall, written in blood that was already drying.Then Marco called from the basement.Dante and Cassandra went down together. Marco was standing by a small table, a single photograph in his gloved hand.It was old, faded. A picture of Grace Hayes holding a baby. Cassandra.On the back, in

The mansion was quieter without Big Aunty's poisonous presence.But the peace was fragile. Everyone knew the real battle was still ahead. Marcus Kane had Samantha. The clock was ticking. Every minute that passed was another minute Samantha was in danger.Dante gathered his men in the war room—a space Cassandra had never seen before. Maps covered the walls. Weapons lined the tables. Marco stood by the door, his arm still bandaged, his face pale but determined. Adrian and Daniel arrived an hour earlier, ready to help. Even Evan was there, his arm still in a sling, refusing to be left out.Cassandra watched them plan, her heart heavy. She was terrified for Samantha. Terrified for all of them. But she couldn't show it. Not now. Not when they needed her to be strong.---The door burst open.Vincent stormed into the room, his face purple with rage. His eyes swept over the gathered men—Dante, Marco, Evan, Adrian, Daniel—and his lip curled."What is this?" he demanded. "A war council? In my

Cassandra walked into the abandoned warehouse alone.Her heart pounded against her ribs, each beat a war drum in her chest. The space was vast—cavernous, dark, filled with shadows that seemed to breathe. Broken windows let in slivers of pale moonlight, casting silver streaks across the concrete floor. Dust motes danced in the beams. The air smelled of rust and decay and something else.Blood.She could feel eyes on her. Marcus Kane's men, hidden in the darkness. Watching. Waiting.She didn't falter. She kept walking, her footsteps steady, her head high.She was not the scared girl who'd stumbled into Dante's world months ago. She was not the invisible flower shop girl who blended into crowds. She was Cassandra Hayes. Daughter of Grace Hayes. And she was done running.---Marcus Kane stepped out of the shadows.His smile was cold, predatory. He was older than she'd imagined—silver-haired, sharp-featured, dressed in an expensive suit that probably cost more than her entire apartment. Be

Cassandra returned to the mansion after midnight.The car ride from the hospital had been silent. Marco drove, his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw tight. He didn't speak. He knew better. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the emptiness in her expression.The mansion loomed before her like a monument to everything she'd survived. She stepped out of the car, her legs heavy, her body aching. Every step felt like wading through water.Jane was waiting at the door.The young maid stood with her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes downcast, her posture perfect. She was new—Cassandra had only met her a few days ago, after Big Aunty's banishment. Dante had assigned her to be Cassandra's personal assistant."Miss Cassandra," Jane said softly. "Welcome home."Cassandra tried to smile, but her lips wouldn't cooperate. "Thank you, Jane."Jane stepped forward, her movements careful, deliberate. She reached for Cassandra's coat, helping her slip it off her shoulders. Her fingers were gent