Eliana's pov
The estate was unusually quiet that evening. Even the guards seemed tense, their footsteps muffled on the polished marble floors.
Eliana had been reviewing the Don's schedule when a faint knock at her door made her pause. The sound was almost polite and deliberate.
She frowned. "Who is it?"
No one responded, the knock continued.
Something felt wrong, she became curious. She had learned to trust instincts over appearances. But before she could move, the door creaked open.
Cassandra walked in, smiling too sweet, too calm. The kind that always meant trouble.
"Eliana," she purred, "you left something behind."
Before Eliana could respond, Cassandra slipped past her, hands gliding across the room as if she owned it. Eliana's eyes followed her.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice firm.
"Oh, just… tidying up." Cassandra's fingers brushed across the small desk where Eliana had hidden her journal. She lifted it with practiced ease, flipping through pages as her eyes darkened with realization.
Eliana felt a sharp pang of fear settle in her stomach. That journal was sacred. Every observation, every strategy, every single note she had made about the Don's empire was written there.
Cassandra's smile twisted into something far colder. "So… this is why you're here."
Eliana's brow furrowed. "Why? What do you mean?"
"You're a spy," Cassandra said softly, almost mocking. "A snake in his garden. A poisonous venom. Look at these notes , you've been planning. Planning to demolish the Don's empire." She held the journal like a weapon, waving it in front of Eliana's face.
Rage flared inside Eliana, hot and wild, but her body froze. There was nothing she could do. Not without giving away her strategy, not without risking everything she had worked for.
Cassandra stepped closer, her presence suffocating. "Do you know what will happen to spies, Eliana?" Her eyes glinted with malice. "Do you know what happens to those who betray the Don… even when he's not around?"
Eliana swallowed hard, heart pounding. "I… I don't know what you mean."
Cassandra laughed softly, "Oh, I think you do." She turned suddenly, lifting her hand to call over a guard stationed nearby. Two men appeared almost instantly like they've been eagerly waiting for the moment.
"Eliana Virelli," Cassandra said, savoring every syllable, "you've caused enough trouble."
The guards moved in immediately. Eliana's legs tensed, ready to fight, but she knew resistance was useless. She was outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and unprepared.
"I won't let you..." she began, but a guard's hand gripped her shoulder, yanking her back.
Cassandra's smile widened. "He'll be glad I took care of his enemy in his absence."
Eliana's heart slammed in her chest. Rage, fear, and betrayal collided in a storm inside her.
"You think this means you've won?" she spat, struggling against the guards' iron grips.
"Oh, I know it does," Cassandra said, her voice dripping venom. "By the time he returns, you'll be a lesson."
The guards dragged Eliana down the long, dim corridor. Every step echoed, every heartbeat felt like it could be the last. Her journal, her secrets, her plans had been stolen, and Cassandra had the key to exposing everything.
As they neared a small, grim room at the edge of the estate, Eliana's stomach twisted. The air smelled of damp stone and iron. She could hear the faint scrape of tools against metal. This was the place lives were taken without remorse.
One of the guards hissed in her ear, "Be still, mistress, or it'll be worse."
Eliana's mind raced, her months of strategy, the sacrifices she had endured, all collided with the unbearable injustice of this moment.
Cassandra leaned close, whispering in her ear. "Do you see it now? My pretty face will be the last thing you see and your fate will remind everyone here what happens to those who dream of taking more than their place."
Eliana's vision blurred with fury. She wanted to scream, to fight, to rip Cassandra apart with her bare hands but she couldn't.
The door opened, and a cold wind hit her face. Sunlight leaked through the slits of a barred window, illuminating a heavy wooden chopping block in the center of the stone floor.
Eliana's breath seized. Her legs trembled, but her heart burned hotter than ever.
One of the guards shoved her toward the block. "Face forward," he ordered.
Eliana's hands were chained, her movements restricted. She could hear Cassandra's laughter echoing against the stone walls.
"Stand still," Cassandra said maliciously. "Soon, everyone will know your place. And anyone who dares to challenge the Don… or betray him… will follow you."
Eliana's mind raced. This can't be, not yet. Not my end. Not my story.
She closed her eyes for a brief second and felt the fire inside her flare.
"This isn't the end," she whispered to herself, voice low but fierce. "I'll rise. I always rise."
A guard raised a heavy axe above his shoulder.
The first swing fell short next to her, just a warning.
Eliana's pulse pounded. Every fiber of her being screamed for survival, for revenge, for power.
She opened her eyes, burning with fury, and met Cassandra's gaze.
"You'll regret this," Eliana hissed.
Cassandra's smile only widened. "Regret is a luxury reserved for the living."
The guards tightened their grip, dragging her closer to the block, the shadow of death looming over her. The wind whistled through the open window, carrying with it the faint scent of the estate's distant gardens, a cruel reminder of freedom she might never touch again.
Eliana's mind continued to race, she thought of escape routes, guard rotations, weak points in the structure. I have to survive. For Diane. For the empire I'll one day own. For the blood I will spill in revenge.
The axe hovered above her, a grim pendulum, a cruel warning to anyone who dared defy the Don.
Her heartbeat steadied, a single thought consumed her:
This isn't my end. Not yet.
Or is it?