Chapter 1 The Message From My Dead Father
POV: Annabelle
The memorial service for my father was finally winding down, and I stood near the back of the lecture hall while people kept coming over to offer their condolences, all of them convinced he died in a car accident three months ago, but I knew my father was terrified during those last few weeks, changing his entire security team, cutting off his closest partners, and constantly telling me never to investigate if anything happened to him.
"Annabelle, dear, you must be exhausted," Mrs. Vance said, walking up to me with a sympathetic smile. "Your father was a respected member of our university board, and we are all grieving with you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Vance," I replied, stepping back slightly to keep my distance. "I am just trying to focus on my classes and get through the day like he would have wanted."
"That is very brave of you, so please call my office if you ever need anything," she said before turning away to join the rest of the board members near the exit.
I waited until everyone left before reaching for my bag, but right on top of my binder sat a white envelope that hadn't been there earlier, so I picked it up, opened the seal, and pulled out a photograph showing my father's crushed car against a guardrail, except the driver side door was wide open and empty, while a handwritten message on the back read, He didn't die in the crash.
My fingers trembled as I looked at the picture, and before I could even collect my thoughts, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: If you want to know who killed your father, go to the old campus chapel at midnight, and come alone.
I knew going to an abandoned building in the middle of the night was a trap, but my father had spent his final days warning me that people were lying to me, so I couldn't just walk away from the only lead I had.
By midnight, the campus was completely quiet, and I made my way to the old chapel, pushing the wooden door open and walking down the dark aisle toward the front altar, where my father once told me old university structures had hidden floor compartments. I knelt by the platform, pushed against the wooden boards until one clicked open, and reached inside, pulling out a simple key and an old photograph showing my father standing next to a young man I didn't recognize.
Before I could look closer, footsteps echoed near the entrance, making me shove the photo and key into my jacket pocket and run straight out through the side doors into the rain. I sprinted toward the perimeter road, but as soon as I stepped off the sidewalk, a black SUV pulled up fast, blocking my path entirely and forcing me to stop.
The passenger door opened, and Dante Moretti stepped out into the street light, looking down at me with an expression that made my stomach tighten, because everyone on campus knew who he was, and his family controlled half the city.
"You shouldn't have come here tonight, Annabelle," Dante said, his voice quiet as he closed the distance between us, stepping right into my personal space so that I had to tilt my head back just to look him in the eye.
"Get out of my way, Dante," I said, trying to take a step back, but he moved with me, holding his ground so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his body in the rain. "I have nothing to say to you, and you have no right to stop me on a public street."
"I have every right when you are running around in the dark playing detective," he said, his eyes scanning my face with an intense focus that made my heart hammer against my ribs, and despite the panic rising in my chest, an unwanted pull settled between us, making it impossible for me to look away from him. "You think you are being brave, but you are just being careless, exactly like your father was before he got himself killed."
"Don't speak about my father," I snapped, placing a hand against his chest to shove him back, but he didn't move an inch, his jaw tightening as he looked down at my hand against his coat. "He was murdered, and for all I know, your family was the one who ordered it."
"If my family wanted you or your father dead, Annabelle, you wouldn't be standing here arguing with me right now," Dante said, his voice dropping low, sounding almost dangerous as he reached up and grabbed my wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to keep me right where he wanted me. "Your father came to my family three weeks ago because he needed someone to watch his back, and I promised him I would keep an eye on you."
"I don't need you watching me, and I certainly don't need your protection," I replied, trying to pull my wrist free, but his grip remained steady, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin in a way that sent a sharp spike of warmth straight through me.
"You don't get to make that choice anymore," Dante said, stepping even closer until there was barely an inch of space left between our bodies, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an absolute arrogance that made me furious. "You are way over your head, Annabelle, and you have no idea what kind of people you are dealing with."
"Then let me go so I can figure it out myself," I said, leaning up toward him, refusing to let him see how much his physical closeness was affecting me. "I don't trust you, Dante, and I never will."
A slow, cold smirk touched his lips, but his eyes remained deadly serious as his free hand moved smoothly toward my jacket pocket, slipping his fingers inside before I could react and pulling out the key I had just found in the chapel floorboards.
"You can hate me all you want, sweetheart, but you are staying right beside me from now on," Dante whispered, holding the key up between our faces while his gaze drifted down to my lips for a fraction of a second before meeting my eyes again. "Your father died because of that, and I am not about to let you meet the exact same end.”
