A Ghost from the Past

Dante's Underground Club – The Lion's Den

Belle kept her expression calm, but her pulse hammered in her throat. Giovanni Russo.

She hadn't seen him since she was a child, but she would never forget his face.

He had been there the night her family fell.

And now, he was here—drinking, laughing, breathing—while her parents were dead.

Her fingers twitched with the urge to grab a knife. To end him.

But she couldn't.

Not here.

Not while Dante's sharp eyes were locked on her every movement.

"Elena?" Dante's voice was smooth, but laced with curiosity. He had noticed her shift in energy.

Belle forced herself to smile, turning her attention back to him.

"Just taking it all in," she murmured.

Dante's gaze didn't waver.

He didn't believe her. Not fully.

But before he could push further—

"Castellano!"

Belle's stomach dropped.

Giovanni.

She had spent years preparing for this moment, training herself to be unreadable, but the sound of his voice still made her blood run cold.

Dante leaned back lazily in his chair, his hand resting on Belle's waist as he looked toward the older man.

"Russo," Dante greeted. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"Couldn't miss the show," Giovanni said, his tone amused.

Belle kept her head slightly bowed, pretending to be uninterested, but she could feel Giovanni's gaze drifting toward her.

And then—

"Who's the girl?"

Belle's heart stopped.

Dante smirked. "My fiancée."

Giovanni's eyebrows lifted. "Didn't take you for the settling-down type."

"Neither did I," Dante admitted, squeezing Belle's waist slightly, a warning to play along.

Belle finally looked up, meeting Giovanni's eyes for the first time in years.

For a terrifying moment, he only stared.

Then—his brows furrowed.

Belle held her breath.

"You look familiar."

Dante's gaze sharpened instantly.

Belle forced an easy smile. "Do I?"

Giovanni frowned, studying her closer. Too close.

Belle knew what he was searching for—a name, a memory, a link to the past.

She had to stop it.

"I get that a lot," she said, keeping her voice smooth.

Giovanni hummed, but his eyes lingered.

Dante noticed.

"Something wrong, Russo?"

Giovanni hesitated, then finally shook his head. "No. Just thought I recognized her."

Dante chuckled. "Elena is full of surprises."

His tone was amused—but his grip on Belle tightened slightly.

Belle forced herself to breathe.

She had survived. For now.

But she wasn't blind.

Giovanni wasn't convinced.

And worse?

Dante had noticed.

And now, she was no longer just playing his game.

She was running out of time.