I turned on my heel and stormed out. I needed to see it for myself—just to be sure, to confirm the truth my gut already knew.
The door opened to a private terrace. Beyond the tall gates, rows of pristine homes lined a cul-de-sac. Trees rustled in the breeze. The sky stretched wide and open. Real air filled my lungs—fresh, clean, and nothing like the recycled cold staleness of the underground.
I was out.
I was in the world again. Not the underworld.
I stood frozen. He had no right.
I’d gone to the House of Devils to claim my birthright, to win the fortune Grandfather had tied to the Moretti name without sacrificing lives or chaining myself to a mafia lord.
I’d risked everything—my disguise, my life—to strip my father of his stolen power, to avenge the exile that left us scavenging in that cabin.
Cassian had stolen that chance, pulling me from the fire’s edge. I didn’t care what history we shared, what crimes he thought I’d committed in those missing years. He owed me answers.
I marched back inside, ready to confront him, but the living room was empty—no Cassian, no newspaper, only silence.
On the coffee table lay a single card, its gold-embossed edges catching the light. I picked it up, my heart lurching as I read:Cassian Moretti weds Charlotte Grayson.
My breath caught, the world tilting. What the hell?
Wait.
Cassian... Moretti?
The last name slammed into my chest like a punch. My pulse stuttered.
One of those Morettis? The very monsters I had sworn I’d rather rot in the House of Devils than marry?
No. No, no, no.
It made sense now—why he’d looked at me like that, like he knew me.
But this wedding card...
I stared at it again, fingers trembling.Cassian Moretti & Charles Grayson — 2024.
Married?
A marriage I couldn’t remember?
My thoughts spiraled, frantically trying to stitch together the missing years.
The promise I’d made to Grandfather on his deathbed, back in the first quarter of 2024—to marry into the Moretti family—echoed like a curse. Had I fulfilled it, only to lose it in the fog of my mind?
My heart was in freefall.
I glanced down at my hand. That cursed ring. The one I couldn’t remove no matter how hard I tried.
Was this his ring? Proof of a marriage I couldn’t recall? My pulse raced, my chest tightening with a panic that felt like drowning. God, no. It can’t be.
Why am I more scared now than when I walked into the House of Devils?
The wedding card slipped from my hands and hit the floor with a dull thud.
I couldn’t breathe.
I left the living room without thinking, the need for answers clawing at my throat. My legs carried me down the hall—back to the bedroom where I’d woken up.