Tearing the Underboss's Heir Agreement

But I never expected that one act would trap Dante in the past for ten years.

In those ten years, the Hayes family fell on hard times. My father was imprisoned for a massive "debt" owed to the Moretti family.

To protect her own interests, my mother drugged Dante's drink and pushed me into his bed.

From then on, I became Dante's secret lover, a ghost in his life.

Later, under the Moretti family's arrangement, I signed the heir agreement.

These ten years have left me exhausted, body and soul.

After surviving by the skin of my teeth, I woke up in the clinic, utterly alone.

In a daze, I thought I saw my father, the man who loved me most, the man who had always been my shield against every storm.

"Papa... I miss you so much."

But the room was so quiet that only the steady drip of the IV answered me.

For the two weeks I was recovering, Dante never called. Not once.

The day I was discharged, I called him.

His first words were cold sarcasm.

"Weren't you hemorrhaging? How are you still alive?"

My hand tightened on the phone. A cold laugh escaped my lips.

"Thanks to you, I'm still clinging to life."

"Dante, I have a business proposition for you."

"Isabella. She's alive."

The breathing on the other end of the line stopped.

In my ten years with Dante, traces of Isabella were everywhere.

No matter what he was doing, he would drop everything at the slightest hint of a lead.

For a blurry video, he once left me alone in a mountainside villa and flew overseas.

For a false tip without even a photo, he could climb out of bed, pull on his pants, and be gone in an instant.

I knew Isabella was just stringing him along.

She couldn't let go of her first love, but she also couldn't give up a meal ticket like Dante.

So I wasn't surprised at all that she had come back.

I took a taxi back to the penthouse apartment where we had lived.

The "roof over my head" Dante had provided.

I had just walked in the door from the clinic, not even having a moment to catch my breath, when I heard a key turn in the lock.

Dante, dressed in black, stood at the door, looking travel-worn.

"Talk. Where is Isabella?"

I hadn't expected him to be so fast. It had only been half an hour, and he had rushed over in person.

He had never willingly set foot in this place before.

Every time, I was the one who had to beg him to come.

That's why he'd call me a whore, nothing more.

Sometimes, I almost believed him.