Bound by fate and the billionaire

Chapter6

Elena's pov.

"Get out."

The words left my mouth before I could second-guess them. Dante stood in my doorway, still recovering, still dangerous, and entirely too close to the life I'd built brick by brick.

"No." His voice was quiet, but absolute.

I crossed my arms, blocking the entrance to my living room where Aiden's drawings covered the coffee table. "You don't get to show up here and make demands. Not anymore."

"I'm not making demands. I'm asking." He stepped forward, and I caught the faint wince he tried to hide. Still hurting. Good. Maybe pain would make him think twice.

"The answer is still no."

"Elena, someone tried to kill me. And you're the one who saved me." His eyes searched mine. "That's not coincidence. You knew where I'd be. You knew when. Which means you've been watching."

My stomach dropped, but I kept my face neutral. "Professional obligation. I monitor high-risk cases."

"Bullshit." He moved closer, and I hated that my body remembered him—the warmth, the weight, the way he used to look at me like I was the only thing that mattered. Before he chose his family over us. "You faked your death, Elena. You disappeared completely. People don't do that without reason."

"Maybe I had a very good reason to disappear from you."

The words landed like a slap. He flinched, actually stepped back. "I know I hurt you. I know I chose wrong. But running away—"

"I didn't run." My voice came out sharper than intended. "I survived. There's a difference."

Before he could respond, my phone buzzed. Marcus. The message was brief: *We need to meet. Tonight. Alone.*

I deleted it immediately, but Dante caught the look on my face.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. You need to leave now."

"Elena—"

"I said leave!" My voice rose, and I heard Aiden's bedroom door creak. I lowered my tone instantly. "Please. Just go."

He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over."

The moment he left, I locked the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. Izzy's words haunted me: *You can't protect them forever.*

I pulled out my encrypted phone and texted Marcus: *Where?*

His response was immediate: *The old warehouse. Midnight. Come alone or the deal's off.*

***

The warehouse smelled like rust and old secrets. I arrived fifteen minutes early, checking every shadow, every corner. Marcus was already there, leaning against a metal beam like he owned the place.

"Punctual as always," he said.

"What do you want?"

He straightened, all business now. "Dante's awake and asking questions. Questions that lead back to you. That's a problem."

"I can handle Dante."

"Can you?" Marcus pulled out a folder, tossed it on the crate between us. "Because Cassandra can't. She's already making moves. Threatening to expose you if you don't back off."

I opened the folder. Photos of me at the hospital. Me with Aiden at the park. Me entering my apartment building. My blood ran cold.

"She's been following me?"

"She's been following Dante. You just happened to be in every frame." Marcus lit a cigarette. "She wants him back. And she'll destroy anyone in her way."

"Let her try."

"Elena." His tone shifted, almost gentle. "You have a son. You have a life. Don't throw it away for a man who already chose someone else once."

"This isn't about Dante."

"Isn't it?" He exhaled smoke. "Because from where I'm standing, you saved his life. You're letting him into your space. You're making the same mistakes you made before."

"I'm nothing like I was before." I grabbed the folder. "And I won't let Cassandra or anyone else threaten my son."

Marcus nodded slowly. "Then you need to make a choice. Dante or Aiden. You can't protect both."

"Watch me."

***

I drove home in silence, Marcus's words echoing in my head. The photos were still in the passenger seat, proof that my carefully constructed life was crumbling.

When I walked into my apartment, Izzy was waiting.

"We have a problem," she said without preamble.

"Another one?"

"Damian Cross showed up at the hospital. He's been asking questions about you and Dante. Someone told him about your connection—about the old case."

My hands clenched. "Who?"

"I don't know. But he's digging. And he's good at his job." Izzy handed me her tablet. "He's already connected you to the car accident. To the disappearance. He's one step away from figuring out you're supposed to be dead."

I sank onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. "How long do we have?"

"Days. Maybe less." Izzy sat beside me. "Elena, you need to decide. Run again, or face this head-on."

"I can't run. Not with Aiden. Not anymore."

"Then you need allies. Real ones. Not Marcus and his deals."

I looked at her. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Dante knows people. Dangerous people. If Cassandra's making moves, you'll need someone who can push back just as hard."

"No." I stood up. "I won't put Dante in that position. He's already a target."

"He's already involved, Elena. The question is whether you're going to let him be involved on your terms or theirs."

Before I could answer, my phone rang. Unknown number.

"Dr. Moretti?" A woman's voice. Cold. Familiar.

"Who is this?"

"Cassandra Blackthorne. We need to talk."

My blood turned to ice. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Then listen. Stay away from Dante. He's mine. He's always been mine. And if you think you can waltz back into his life after faking your death, you're more delusional than I thought."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise. Touch him again, and I'll make sure everyone knows exactly who you are. What you did. And who that little boy really belongs to."

The line went dead.

I stood there, phone trembling in my hand, rage and fear warring inside me.

Izzy watched me carefully. "What did she say?"

"She knows about Aiden