Page 101 of Merciless Billionaire's Savage Desire

Anya wasCharles Carter’s daughter?

Zara’s lips trembled. Her arrogance cracked.

“Mr. Carter, please…” she stammered, her voice turning sugary sweet again. “Please don’t be angry. I didn’t mean it like that. I—I was just joking. You don’t need to pay anything. Really. Don’t take it seriously…”

But Charles had already turned, storming off with Anya beside him, his hand protectively resting on her back as if shielding her from the world.

Inside his office, the tension hadn’t lifted. As soon as the door closed, Charles turned sharply toward her, his brows furrowed, concern etched deep in his features. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice low but tight with worry.

“I’m fine, Dad,” she replied, soft and calm.

He didn’t look convinced. His eyes scanned her face, down to her arms, as though searching for invisible wounds. “That woman... she didn’t seem like a good person.”

Anya let out a tired breath and smiled faintly. “It’s not a big deal.”

Charles ran a hand down his face, his jaw tight. “They didn’t treat you well, did they?” His voice hardened. “Did they ever hurt you?”

“No, Dad,” she said gently, walking over to him and lightly guiding him toward his chair. “Everything’s fine, Dad. Stop worrying.”

He sat down stiffly, the worry still clouding his eyes as he looked up at her. But he didn’t press further. Her presence alone was enough to calm the storm inside him—at least for now.

Outside the office walls, however, chaos bloomed.

An hour later, the news had already consumed every media outlet. Headlines blared on screens across the city:

‘Charles Carter’s Long-Lost Daughter Returns!’

‘Carter Diamonds Heiress, Recently Revealed, Found Working Incognito as Employee’

‘Carter Diamonds’ New Face: Friend or Foe to Luca Stanson?’

Paparazzi flooded news sites with photos of Anya, speculation swirling around her sudden reappearance like wildfire.

As Anya stepped out of the building, the soft glow of early evening casting a golden hue across the concrete steps, she spotted someone waiting.

Dante was leaning against his sleek black car, sleeves rolled up, a cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers. The moment he saw her, he flicked it to the ground, crushed it with a sharp twist of his shoe, and strode toward her with long, quick steps.

His hands found her arms before she could even speak. “I heard your old family created a scene at the office today,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Anya mumbled, her gaze darting away.

He tilted his head, trying to catch her eyes. “Did your dad protect you? Who else was there? Who helped you?”

“Yeah. My dad and Lu—” her words froze as their eyes met. “You… you already know?”

Dante’s expression didn’t shift. Not even a flicker of surprise. “About you being Charles’s daughter?” he said casually. “It’s all over the news.”

“You don’t look shocked at all,” she whispered.

Dante slipped his hands into his pockets, clenching his fists. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and take her away, far from everything and everyone. The urge was suffocating—but he swallowed it down and nodded absently.

“I had a feeling,” he admitted quietly. “You never told me where you stayed… you always acted strange around Mr. Carter and Luca. And that gift Luca gave you—something that expensive? It didn’t make sense unless you were someone important.”

“Anya?”

Luca appeared beside her smoothly, his gaze flicking once toward Dante, then settling back on Anya. He didn’t spare Dante another glance.

“Are you ready to leave?”

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