03

I was used to judgment. Ever since I accepted the job with Dante Castelli, I judged myself every day. But nothing could have prepared me for the look on my father’s face when he showed up at my door that night.

The moment I opened it, his eyes locked onto mine, burning with a mix of anger and disappointment. I froze.

“You’re working for him, aren’t you?” he fired, his voice sharp.

I didn’t have time to prepare an answer. My mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Dad, I..."

“You are,” he cut me off, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation. “You’re working for Dante Castelli. The man who destroyed us. How could you, Olivia?”

The door clicked shut behind him, and I felt like the walls of my apartment were closing in. My heart raced as I tried to find the words to explain myself, but every excuse I had prepared seemed to wither under his gaze.

“I can explain,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Explain?” He crossed his arms, his jaw tight. “What could possibly justify this? You’re working for the man who ruined everything we built. The man who left us with nothing!”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I said, my voice low, almost pleading. “I needed the money. My rent is overdue, my work hasn’t been steady—”

“So you sold your soul to him?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Olivia, do you hear yourself? You could’ve come to me. I would’ve helped you.”

“No, Dad.” My voice broke as I spoke, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “You couldn’t have helped. You’ve already given everything you had, and I couldn’t—”

“You couldn’t what?” he interrupted, his tone rising. “You couldn’t trust me to help my own daughter? Instead, you ran straight to the man who tore our lives apart?”

His words stung, each one hitting harder than the last. I wanted to scream, to make him understand, but I could feel the weight of his disappointment crushing me.

“I didn’t run to him,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “This isn’t about him. It’s about me trying to survive.”

“Survive?” He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Do you think that’s what this is? Do you think Dante Castelli sees you as anything more than a pawn in his game?”

His words felt like a slap.

“I’m not a pawn,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You always thought you could handle him,” he continued, his voice laced with frustration. “And look where that got us. You trusted him before, Olivia. You let him in. And he destroyed us.”

“That’s not fair,” I snapped, my anger bubbling to the surface. “I was young and naive back then, but I’m not that person anymore. I know who he is. I know what he’s capable of.”

“Do you?” he countered, his voice quieter now but no less cutting. “Because if you truly knew, you wouldn’t be anywhere near him.”

Silence hung heavy between us, the tension in the room almost suffocating.

“I’m doing this for me,” I finally said, my voice shaking. “I’m doing this because I need the money, and because I need closure. I need to prove to myself that he doesn’t have power over me anymore.”

My father’s expression softened for a moment, but only briefly.

“And what happens when he gets inside your head again?” he asked, his tone quieter but no less intense. “Because he will, Olivia. That’s what he does. He manipulates. He twists things until you don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“I won’t let that happen,” I said, more for myself than for him.

He shook his head, stepping back toward the door. “You think you’re strong enough to handle him, but you’re wrong. Dante Castelli doesn’t change. And when this all falls apart, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I felt tears prick the back of my eyes as he reached for the doorknob, but I refused to let them fall.

“Dad,” I called out, my voice softer now. He paused, his back to me. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I just... I didn’t know what else to do.”

He turned to face me, his expression softer now, though still filled with pain. “You didn’t hurt me, Olivia. He did. But if you keep letting him into your life, you’re the one who’ll end up hurt.”

And with that, he opened the door and walked out, leaving me standing in the middle of my tiny apartment, alone.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. My father’s words played on a loop in my mind. You’re the one who’ll end up hurt.

I hated how much truth there was in what he said. No matter how much I wanted to believe I was in control, Dante had a way of getting under my skin, of making me doubt myself.

But this wasn’t about him. It couldn’t be.

When I finally closed my eyes, my dreams were filled with fragmented memories of the past: dinners with Dante, his easy charm disarming me; my father’s proud smile when he talked about our company; the day we lost everything.

I woke up with a start, my heart racing.

The next morning, I arrived at the office earlier than usual, hoping to avoid seeing Dante right away. But of course, he was already there, seated at the head of the conference table, looking every bit the powerful CEO he was.

“Morning, Olivia,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “You’re early.”

“I had work to catch up on,” I said, avoiding his gaze as I placed my bag on the table.

He tilted his head, studying me. “Rough night?”

I glanced at him sharply, searching for any sign that he knew about my conversation with my father. But his expression was unreadable, as always.

“No rougher than usual,” I said, forcing a smile.

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Because we have a lot to get through today.”

I nodded, pulling out my laptop and pretending to focus on the case files in front of me. But the tension in the room was impossible to ignore.

Dante was watching me, I could feel it. And no matter how hard I tried to focus, his presence was a constant distraction.

“Olivia,” he said after a moment, his tone softer now. I looked up, meeting his piercing gray eyes.

“Yes?”

“I know this isn’t easy for you,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “But I need you to trust me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

“Trust you?” I repeated, my voice incredulous. “Dante, you’re the last person I’d trust.”

His lips curved into a small, humorless smile. “Fair enough. But trust me when I say this: there’s more to this case than what’s in the files.”

I frowned, my curiosity piqued despite myself. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, as if weighing how much to reveal. “Let’s just say... not everything is as black and white as it seems.”

The cryptic answer only fueled my frustration. “If there’s something I need to know, Dante, tell me. Don’t play games.”

He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto mine. “I’m not playing games, Olivia. I’m protecting you.”

The intensity in his voice sent a chill down my spine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Protecting me from what? Or who?