Chapter 20
1200 Words
Chapter 20
Luna's POV
The silence in the penthouse was almost deafening.
Not the kind of peaceful silence, but the kind that comes before a storm, a silence full of things unsaid. I sat on the edge of Cassian’s leather sofa, staring at the black envelope that had arrived that morning, untouched on the coffee table. My hands itched to open it, to confirm the ugly truth I already suspected.
But once I opened it, I wouldn’t be able to pretend anymore.
I heard the elevator ding behind me, and my entire body stiffened.
Cassian.
He hadn’t said a word when he left this morning, but I knew he was angry. Not the loud, shouting kind of anger—but the cold, restrained fury that scared me more. He had every right to be. I’d gone behind his back, met with his uncle, and worse—I had uncovered something about the Montalbano legacy that could shatter everything.
I turned slowly as he entered. His tie was loosened, dark hair slightly disheveled, jaw tight. He didn’t say anything, just looked at the envelope.
“You didn’t open it,” he said, voice rough.
“No.”
Cassian moved closer, each step precise. He stopped in front of the table and picked up the envelope, weighing it in his hand like it was loaded.
“I can open it,” he offered.
I looked up at him, uncertain. “Do you want to?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he sat beside me, the envelope resting between us like a bomb waiting to detonate.
“I’m tired of secrets, Luna.”
My throat tightened. “Then let’s open it.”
His fingers were steady as he tore the seal. Inside was a single document. A birth certificate.
My heart stopped.
He unfolded it slowly, eyes scanning the page. Then he handed it to me, jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack.
Mother’s name: Seraphina Montalbano.
Father’s name: Unknown.
Child’s name: Luna Montalbano.
My vision blurred.
It was real. Every suspicion, every half-whispered warning—confirmed in black and white. I was one of them. A Montalbano. The blood I had hated, the family I had spent my life avoiding—it ran through my veins.
My fingers trembled as I lowered the paper. “So it’s true.”
Cassian’s voice was quiet. “My uncle knew. That’s why he wanted to meet you.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
Silence stretched again, thick and suffocating.
Then, in a whisper: “Do you hate me now?”
Cassian turned sharply. “What?”
I swallowed. “Do you hate me for being one of them? For being…your cousin?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Half-cousin. Technically. But no, Luna. Don’t say that again.”
“But this changes everything.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
He stood up suddenly, pacing. His hands ran through his hair, agitated. “You think this piece of paper changes what we are? What we’ve done? What I feel for you?”
I looked at him, heart in my throat. “It has to. It should.”
Cassian stopped and faced me. “Then why do I still want to touch you?”
I sucked in a breath. His words hit like a slap and a caress all at once.
“Why do I still dream of your skin, your voice, your fire?” he growled. “Why, after everything, do I look at you and want to ruin you all over again?”
I stood up too fast, the room spinning. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he challenged. “Don’t speak the truth? Don’t want you?”
His hands were on me before I could move. Mouth crashing onto mine, heat roaring between us like a wildfire. It was reckless, it was wrong, it was everything I shouldn't want—and yet, I kissed him back with a hunger that had nothing to do with logic.
His fingers slid into my hair, pulling my head back so his lips could trail down my neck. “Say stop,” he murmured against my skin. “Say it and I will.”
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Instead, I moaned.
And that was all the answer he needed.
Cassian lifted me effortlessly, carrying me toward the kitchen island. It wasn’t romantic—it was primal, desperate. My back hit the cool marble counter as he spread my legs and stepped between them, tugging up my dress in one swift motion.
“You’re not just a Montalbano,” he said, voice dark. “You’re mine.”
I bit back a gasp as his fingers traced the inside of my thigh. “And what does that make you?”
His eyes burned into mine. “Worse than you think.”
His mouth was fire—hot, sinful, and punishing. I clung to him, lost in sensation, guilt and desire battling like twin storms in my chest.
The kitchen echoed with the sound of our breathing, of skin on skin, of need too heavy to hide.
This wasn’t love.
It was obsession.
When it was over, we were a tangle of limbs on the floor, surrounded by half-broken dishes and the lingering scent of lust. He pressed his forehead to mine, both of us breathless.
“We’re going to burn for this,” I whispered.
Cassian nodded. “Let it burn.”
Later, after we’d pulled ourselves together, I sat at the dining table, birth certificate in hand. The quiet had returned, but it was different now. Not suffocating—just heavy, filled with a truth too large to ignore.
“I need to know more,” I said.
Cassian leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “About your mother?”
I nodded. “And my father. If Seraphina gave birth to me, why did she leave me behind? Why did no one ever tell me?”
“I’ll get answers,” he promised. “But Luna…there’s something you need to know about my uncle.”
I looked up sharply. “What?”
Cassian hesitated, then pushed a file across the counter. “This came today. I didn’t want to show you until after we opened the envelope.”
I opened the folder slowly. Inside were surveillance photos, reports…emails.
The further I read, the colder I became.
“He was following me?”
Cassian nodded grimly. “Not just you. He was trying to confirm your identity before you even knew.”
I shook my head, bile rising in my throat. “He wants to use me.”
“He already is.”
The rage that surged in me was swift and searing. “Then I’ll give him a reason to regret it.”
Cassian’s mouth curved in a dark smile. “That’s my girl.”
And just like that, I realized: being a Montalbano wasn’t the end of me. It was the beginning.
The girl I used to be—naive, desperate for answers—was gone.
Now, I had power. Bloodlines, secrets, fire. And if they thought I would be a pawn in their game, they were wrong.
I would be the queen.
- Writer
