Chapter 102 The Dante Rossi Confession
Greyson
"It's about my marriage," Cassie repeated.
I felt my stomach drop, but I forced myself to remain outwardly calm. "To Dante Rossi," I said.
Her eyes widened in surprise. "You know?"
"Georgia mentioned him," I admitted. "She seemed to think your recent engagement was some kind of smoking gun."
Cassie let out a bitter laugh. "Recent marriage. Right." She stood, moving to the porch railing as if she needed the physical distance. "I need you to understand something about my family, Grey. About the world I come from."
I waited, watching the tension in her shoulders.
"The Hunter family has old money," she said finally. "Very old, very established. The kind of family where marriages are business transactions and love is considered a pleasant bonus rather than a requirement."
"After we... after everything fell apart," she continued, turning to face me, the old pain evident in her expression, "I went home. I let them make decisions because I was too broken to make them myself. Eventually, the pressure started. They wanted me settled. Married to someone appropriate."
"Dante was appropriate?"
"Dante was at the top of that list." She came back to her chair, sinking into it. "Italian nobility, shipping fortune, perfect connections. On paper, he was perfect."
I felt a stab of jealousy, followed immediately by guilt.
"I met him seven years ago. He was charming, sophisticated. We had a whirlwind courtship—three months from first meeting to wedding day." She paused, staring out at the darkening ocean. "I should have known better. Should have seen the red flags. But I was so desperate to prove to myself that I could move on, that I could love someone other than... Other than you."
"What happened?" I asked, though I had a sinking feeling I already knew.
Cassie took a deep breath. "Two days after the wedding, I came home early from a business trip. I wanted to surprise him." Her laugh was hollow. "I definitely surprised him. Found him in our bed with my sister, Ella."
The fury that rose in me was swift and consuming. "Your sister?"
"My younger sister. Apparently, it had been going on for months. She was the one who introduced us." Cassie's voice was steady, as if she'd told this story enough times that it had lost some of its power to wound her. "The worst part wasn't the cheating. It was the laughter. They were laughing about how easy it had been to fool me."
I felt sick. The calculated betrayal was staggering.
"I filed for divorce immediately. My family expected me to come home quietly, to let them handle the mess with discretion. I couldn't do it, Grey. The thought of it made me physically ill."
"So you stayed in Italy?"
"I stayed and handled the divorce myself. Fought for every penny he tried to hide. Made sure the whole thing was as public and as messy as possible." There was satisfaction in her voice now, a hint of the fierce woman I'd fallen in love with. "My family was mortified."
"Good for you," I said, and I meant it.
"The divorce was finalized eight months later. I've been traveling since then, trying to figure out who I am. Then I found you here," she agreed softly.
I stood and moved toward her. "What's different about me?" I asked, the question coming out more vulnerable than I'd intended.
She turned to face me fully. "You're worth the fight," she said simply. "With everyone else, I was trying to convince myself to feel something that was never really there. With you..." She reached out, her fingers barely brushing mine. "With you, the feeling was never the question. It was everything else that got in the way."
"And now? What about your family, your obligations?"
"I called my father last week," she said. "I mentioned your name, and there was this pause. This long, thoughtful pause."
"And?"
"He knows you. Remembered how happy I was then. He said..." She paused, as if she could hardly believe it herself. "He said any man who could make me smile the way you did might be worth getting to know. Coming from him, that's practically a ringing endorsement."
Hope began to bloom in my chest, tentative but real. "He'd give us a chance?"
"I think he's tired of watching me pretend to be happy. I think he's finally ready to put my actual happiness above the family's reputation." She stepped closer, close enough that I could see her beautiful eyes. "My father just wants to see me genuinely smile again."
We stood there in the gathering storm light, the weight of confessions and possibilities hanging between us like a promise. For the first time in seven years, I felt like I could see a path forward.
That's when my phone rang again.
The sharp insistence of the ringtone cut through the intimate moment. Georgia's name was clearly visible on the screen, flashing with an urgency that felt ominous.
I moved to decline the call again, but Cassie's hand on my arm stopped me.
"Answer it," she said quietly. "If you're serious about not running anymore, then we face this together. Right now."
The trepidation in her eyes mirrored my own, but there was steel there too. A determination to meet whatever was coming head-on.
I picked up the phone, my thumb hovering over the answer button. I looked at Cassie, at the woman who had somehow found it in her heart to forgive me, to understand me, to see the broken parts of me and still believe I was worth fighting for.
I took her hand in mine, our fingers intertwining, a silent promise of solidarity. Then I answered the call.
"Mother," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Whatever it is, make it quick. I'm in the middle of something important."
The line crackled for a moment before Georgia's voice came through, sharp and cold as ice. "Greyson, we need to talk. It's about Cassandra. There are things you don't know, things that change everything."
I tightened my grip on Cassie's hand, feeling her tremble slightly beside me. The storm was here, and we were about to find out if our fragile new beginning could weather it.
"Whatever you have to say," I said, looking directly into Cassie's eyes, "you can say it to both of us. We're listening."