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The Two Hour Betrayal Novel Cover

The Two Hour Betrayal

As the hand-picked shield and wife to New York’s ruthless billionaire Don, Julian Bellini, Cassia Rhodes knew her marriage was a sham meant to protect the woman he truly loved. But when a rival family targets her for the eighth time, Julian abandons the rescue mid-negotiation to answer his lover's call. Left defenseless, Cassia takes a bullet. As she bleeds out, mocked by Julian’s men, she faces a devastating reality: her system mission to save the Don has failed, and her time is up.
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Chapter 2

When Julian walked through the door, the first thing he saw was Stella, her hands clasped tightly as she apologized profusely.

"What the hell is your problem, Cassia?! Stella only came here out of concern!" he snarled.

The consigliere looked flustered and was about to explain, but Stella cut in first, her voice soft and trembling. "Julian, please don't be angry. It was my fault. I smelled the wine and just couldn't resist—it was so rich. I only meant to have a tiny sip, but before I knew it, I'd finished the whole thing. Cassia has every right to be angry..."

Tears welled in her eyes, and Julian's anger instantly vanished, replaced by a gentle tenderness. "It's a bottle of wine. You can have all you want when you're recovered. Why are you antagonizing Stella over something so petty?"

He turned to the consigliere coldly. "Stella hasn't been well lately. Since she likes this vintage, go find a case of the same quality and have it sent to her art studio."

The consigliere nodded quickly and hurried away.

Julian's expression softened again as he leaned down and wiped a tear from Stella's cheek. "Don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry."

Stella burst into a tearful smile and threw herself into his arms. "You're teasing me again."

They left the hospital room together, whispering and laughing until the corridor fell silent once more. It was only then I realized the barbs that once pierced my heart now felt like nothing. I didn't want to argue, I didn't want to cry, and I didn't even want to explain myself anymore.

...

An hour later, as the doctor was checking my wound, several of Julian's soldati swaggered into the room, telling me to get discharged. The rival families, they said, were still making moves.

One of them, perhaps out of sympathy, asked if I needed extra painkillers. I shook my head. "It's alright." This pain was nothing new. I was used to it.

They drove me back to the penthouse, dumped me at the door, shoved a bag of medication into my hands, and sped off. Julian didn't care about me, so his men didn't either. In their eyes, I was nothing.

I opened the door to an empty apartment. Even the housekeeper was gone. Then, Julian's call came. His voice was as cold and distant as ever. "Stella isn't feeling well. Your housekeeper is more attentive, so I had her and the others go over to help. You'll be on your own for a few days. They'll be back once Stella is better."

He said it so casually, as if she were the one who had been shot and nearly died, not me.

"I understand."

He paused, sensing the distance in my tone. "Just tell me what you want to eat. I'll have the housekeeper make it for you when she gets back."

"I understand."

Even over the phone, I could feel him frowning.

"What is this attitude? Over a damn bottle of wine? Let me remind you, Cassia Rhodes—the day I married you, I told you your only purpose was to be Stella’s shield. Don't think playing the part of Donna Bellini for three years makes you more important than her."

I nodded mechanically. "I understand."

"You—" His anger flared again, but before he could finish, Stella's voice called out from a short distance away. "Julian, come try these macarons!"

The call disconnected.

Forty-eight hours until erasure.

I felt hungry, but when I went into the kitchen, I found everything had been taken—the refrigerator was completely empty. Because of who Julian was, he never allowed me to order takeout. I rummaged through the cabinets and found a few stale soda crackers.

The coffee machine had been broken for weeks, so I ate the crackers with tap water and sat at the dining table.

My phone buzzed—Stella was livestreaming on Instagram again. This time, they weren't in the art studio. Judging by the background, it looked like they were on a yacht in the Hamptons. Stella was wearing a loose white button-down shirt, eating tiramisu while chatting with her viewers. A man off-camera would occasionally feed her a bite with a fork, his movements gentle and practiced.

'Can we get more couple content? Just from that hand, I can tell he's gorgeous!'

Stella giggled. "My boyfriend is the most handsome man in the world. Every time he smiles, my heart melts. He pursued me first, but I was too shy, too scared... It took me so long to finally say yes. The dessert is sweet, but not as sweet as we are."

The man's hand reached into the frame and ruffled her hair. She giggled again, her cheeks flushing pink.

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