Page 96 of Sinful Obsession
“You bitch!” my father spat, his voice venomous. “How dare you turn against us?”
I stepped closer, my boots crunching on broken glass, my voice steady despite the storm inside. “You’ve been a cruelfather—selling Mother to the Bellucci Clan in Chicago, rebelling against Grandfather, stealing his wealth and power, and sending me to live with him just because I’m a girl. Girls are weak, right?”
“But look who’s stripping you of your power now. I entered the all-maleHouse of Devilscompetition—the one you wouldn’t let Vincent touch—and I won. I have the vault, the gold, the empire. It’s mine now.”
“You’ll regret this,” Vincent snarled, his voice thick with hatred. “You’re nothing.”
I met his gaze, disgust curling in my gut.
I’d once been thrilled to discover I had a brother, dreaming of a bond, only to find he was a mirror of our father—cruel, dismissive, calling me weak for my gender.
“Take them away,” I ordered, my voice cold. “Somewhere they’ll never see daylight again.”
Anthony signaled, and his men hauled them toward a waiting chopper, its blades already spinning.
My father thrashed, shouting, “I swear, Charlotte, I’ll get out and kill you!”
Vincent, his bravado crumbling, began to beg. “Please, you can’t do this to your own brother! We loved each other once, didn’t we? Remember what we promised Mom?”
I turned away, their voices fading as the chopper lifted off, carrying them to a fate they’d earned.
The compound fell silent, the weight of my victory settling over me like a crown.
One week later, I stood in a grand hall in New York.
The Grayson mafia’s lieutenants—hundreds of men and women—lined the room, their eyes fixed on me as Anthonyplaced a ceremonial ring on my finger, its emerald glinting like a promise.
“Charlotte Grayson,” he declared, “you are crowned boss of the Grayson family, rightful heir to the vault and its power.”
The room erupted in applause, but my heart was already in Moscow.
I flew back the next day, the jet’s hum a soothing contrast to the chaos I’d left behind.
Asher and Aria ran into my arms at the airport, their laughter washing away the blood and smoke of New York.
There was nothing to fear now—my father and Vincent were gone, and Cassian, I’d learned, had taken on Luca and Artem while I fought.
Artem was dead, his body lost in the fray, and Luca lay in a coma, barely clinging to life.
The Grayson empire was mine, and my children were safe.
Back at Cassian’s Moscow penthouse, I stood under the shower, the hot water cascading over me, washing away the weight of victory and vengeance.
The bathroom was a haven of marble and steam.
I was happy—truly happy—for the first time in years, the Grayson crown mine, my children secure.
A knock at the door startled me, but I smiled, knowing who it was.
“Cassian?” I called, wrapping a towel around myself.
“Babe, can I come in?” His voice was warm, teasing.
“Yes,” I said, shamelessly, stepping out of the shower, my wet hair clinging to my shoulders.
Cassian stepped inside, his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
I’d been consumed with the formalities of my new role—meetings, oaths, restructuring the Grayson empire—and he’d stepped back, letting me take the spotlight.
