CHAPTER 91: BLACKENED HEART

Katherine arrived at her family’s house to find that everyone was already seated.

Her throat went dry, and she swallowed hard as her gaze swept across the dining hall. The atmosphere was thick—so heavy with tension it felt suffocating. Every set of eyes turned toward her, lingering with scrutiny, judgment, and something else she couldn’t quite place. Her heart pounded uncomfortably, a strange unease curling in her stomach.

Something told her this conversation wasn’t going to end well.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Mr. Cross drawled from the head of the table. His voice was smooth but dripping with sarcasm. "Isn’t she my sweetest and most darling daughter-in-law?"

Katherine’s skin prickled at the mockery buried in his tone. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and the words cut deeper than any blade.

"Please, sit down."

She obeyed, her heels echoing softly against the polished marble floor as she pulled out the chair beside Nathan. He didn’t even glance at her, let alone acknowledge her presence. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes glued to his plate like she was invisible.

Katherine’s parents sat opposite her, their expressions unreadable.

Her brows knitted together, suspicion creeping through her veins.

"So, tell me, Mr. Evans," Mr. Cross’s voice sliced through the silence, deceptively calm. "Why did you suddenly summon us here?"

Mr. Evans straightened, forcing a tight smile that looked as stiff as plastic. "Well... we don’t often get the chance to dine together as one family. Business keeps us apart. The last time we had a gathering like this was over a year ago—when Nathan came to us, asking for Katherine’s hand in marriage."

Katherine remembered that night vividly—the warmth in Nathan’s eyes, the way he had looked at her like she was his entire world. He had promised forever, had sworn she was the only woman he could ever love. Back then, there had been no other names, no other faces, no women hidden under his sheets. She had been everything to him.

Now? She was nothing but a burden.

"I’m not a modern man," Mr. Evans continued, glancing nervously at Mr. Cross as though desperate to impress him. "But my workers are always on social media. That’s how I found out about... certain things. The scandals, the rumors. Everything concerning my daughter." His voice wavered, though he tried to mask it with another strained smile.

He turned his gaze sharply on Katherine. "I don’t know what the truth is. I want to believe my daughter is not that kind of person. Katherine would never betray her husband. Right, Katherine?"

The question was meant to sound concerned, but Katherine heard the accusation laced underneath.

She scoffed. A bitter laugh slipped past her lips.

So this was why they had dragged her here—to question her morality like she was some wayward child.

Her blood simmered with fury.

When Nathan had come asking for her hand, no one questioned him. They had all known he was cheating on Eva at the time—everyone knew it. Yet they had turned a blind eye, because Nathan was wealthy, powerful, the perfect son-in-law. But now that her own reputation was under fire, suddenly they wanted answers. Suddenly, they wanted to act like they cared about virtue.

Katherine lifted her chin, her voice steady, calm, but edged with venom. "If I truly cheated on Nathan, we’ll all find out soon enough—when I give birth to the child I’m carrying."

Silence.

It was as though the air had been sucked from the room. Every head turned, eyes wide, mouths slightly open.

Her mother blinked rapidly, her voice cracking as she whispered, "You... you’re pregnant?"

Katherine nodded. "Yes. Nathan doesn’t believe this child is his, but I can assure every single one of you it is. And when this child is born, if the paternity test proves Nathan is the father, I expect apologies. From all of you. Especially you." She pointed her gaze like a dagger at Nathan.

A tense hush fell over the table.

Then, a sharp scoff cut through the quiet.

Nathan leaned back in his chair, his lips curled into a cruel smile, eyes burning with disgust. The audacity of her demand almost amused him.

She wanted an apology? After disgracing him? After letting her name rot online, evidence of her infidelity circling the internet like vultures over a corpse?

He let out a low chuckle, bitter and mocking.

"You really think you can demand an apology from us?" he spat, his voice icy. "Listen to me, Katherine. Once you give birth, we’re done. Divorced. If that child is mine, I’ll take him, raise him myself, and you..." He leaned closer, his teeth gritted, every word dripping with venom. "You’ll be out of my house. Do you understand?"

Katherine’s jaw tightened, but her face remained composed. She had expected this. Typical Nathan—always grasping for control, always chasing whatever benefited him.

She didn’t regret her disloyalty one bit.

It had only been a taste of his own medicine. Yet his ego had been shattered beyond repair.

Part of her wanted to laugh in his face, to tell him exactly what she thought of him, to end this charade once and for all. But she couldn’t—not yet. She still needed his name, his wealth, his property. Every piece of him she could strip away until he was left with nothing.

And so, she stayed silent.

"If that’s all, may I leave now?" she asked coolly. "I still have a photoshoot, and Stella is waiting for me." It was a lie, but none of them needed to know that.

Five pairs of eyes bore into her, but no one spoke.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Finally, Katherine pushed her chair back. The scrape of the wood against the floor echoed like thunder in the still room. She rose gracefully, her heels clicking sharply with each step as she strode out.

The moment she was outside, her composure cracked. Her hands clenched into fists, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

They dared. They actually dared to question her, to sit her down like a criminal, to poke holes in her dignity.

But she would not let them win.

Nathan thought she was foolish, but this was only the beginning.

He could waste his time searching for Eva for all she cared. Katherine’s lips curled into a cold smirk as she gripped the steering wheel.

"I’ll make sure he loses everything. Every piece of his empire. He’ll suffer until he has nothing left."

Her fury simmered into silence as she drove back to the penthouse. But the second she arrived, her steps faltered.

A package sat on her doorstep.

Her blood ran cold.

Lately, every package that arrived had been gruesome. Horrific. Threatening.

She crouched carefully, her hands trembling as she opened the box.

Inside was an ultrasound picture.

Her brows knitted together, confusion slicing through her anger. "What does this mean?" she whispered.

At the bottom of the box lay a folded note.

She unfolded it, her fingers shaking.

Four words stared back at her, stark and chilling.

A child for a child.

Katherine froze, the paper slipping slightly from her hands. It felt like her veins turned to ice. Her stomach twisted violently, and her knees weakened.

Her hands were trembling uncontrollably now as she fumbled for her keys, unlocked the door, and rushed inside.

"Jacob?" Her voice cracked.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to burst.

She tore through the penthouse, flinging open doors, until her gaze finally landed on him.

Jacob lay asleep on the bed, his tiny chest rising and falling peacefully.

Relief crashed through her like a tidal wave, tears pricking her eyes.

But the comfort was short-lived.

Unbeknownst to her, someone was watching.

**

Meanwhile, Alisha was tucked against Dante’s chest, spooned securely in his arms. He held her tightly, breathing in her honey-like scent. It intoxicated him, riled him up, and made him want her again.

But she was exhausted. They had been intimate for hours, and now her soft snores filled the room.

A grin tugged at his lips as he traced lazy circles on her waist with his finger, marveling at how natural this had begun to feel.

Too natural.

That was what unsettled him.

This comfort, this peace—it felt temporary. Like the calm before a storm. He couldn’t shake the gnawing thought that all of it could be ruined in an instant.

And he wouldn’t know how to stop it.

Tightening his grip, he pressed a kiss to her neck, as though the simple act could anchor her to him forever.

But reality clawed at him.

The elections loomed closer. His father was set to win, but the price of that victory would be blood.

Dante’s jaw clenched. He had grown tired of killing. Tired of the endless cycle. But as long as Rhea was still in their father’s clutches, his hands were tied.

Reluctantly, he slid from the bed, careful not to wake Alisha. He grabbed his phone and retreated to the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He dialed a number.

It rang only three seconds before the call connected.

"Mr. De Rossi..." The voice on the other end dripped with disdain. Dante’s teeth ground together at the title. He hated being called that. It was his father’s name, not his.

"Why are you calling?" the assistant asked.

"I want to speak to Jaime. Put him on."

"My boss is occupied."

Dante’s eyes darkened. His voice dropped, sharp as steel. "Put him on now. Or whatever happens next will be on your head."

The threat was enough. A hushed conversation followed, and then Jaime Lorenzo’s irritated voice filled the line.

"What do you want, Dante? Hasn’t your father done enough?"

"Listen carefully," Dante said flatly. "You have one week. Take your family and leave this city. Things are about to explode, and nothing will end well if you stay."

Jaime laughed as if Dante had cracked a joke.

"The word family sounds strange coming from you. Have you suddenly discovered what that means now that you have a wife?" His tone mocked, needling deliberately.

Dante’s eyes twitched in frustration. "I’m not playing games, Jaime. I’m giving you a chance. One week. Leave, and disappear. If you don’t..." His voice turned to ice.

But Jaime only chuckled again.

"Why should I be afraid of you? Or your father? After the stunt he pulled at the charity event, do you really think we’ll back down? No, Dante. This time, it’s blood for blood."

The line went dead.

Dante lowered the phone slowly, his reflection in the bathroom mirror glaring back at him—haunted, tired, but burning with rage.