Bab 42: A Clash of Past and Present
The weight of Dante's words from the night before lingered in my mind as the morning sunlight poured into the room. I had tried to push the moment aside, tried to convince myself that his apology, his desperation, didn't mean anything—but it was impossible. Dante Stormborn, the man who had shattered me, was now fighting tooth and nail to mend what he had broken.
But could I let him?
I sat at the edge of my bed, staring at the floor, my heart heavy with unanswered questions. The echoes of his voice—raw and strained with emotion—kept replaying in my mind.
"I need you, Elizabeth. Not Maria, not anyone else. Just you."
It was as though he had taken every brick I had used to build the wall around my heart and cracked it in half. I hated how much those words affected me, how they pulled at parts of me I had tried to bury deep.
A soft knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. I glanced up, hesitating.
"Who is it?" I asked, my voice firmer than I felt.
"It's Dante," came the reply.
Of course, it was him. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, debating whether to let him in.
"I don't want to talk right now," I said, trying to sound detached.
"I'll wait until you're ready," he said, his voice muffled but steady. "But, Elizabeth, I'm not going anywhere this time."
Silence fell between us. I didn't respond, and after a moment, I heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway.
The Past That Won't Stay Buried
After forcing myself to eat something, I decided to take a walk in the garden to clear my head. The estate was unnervingly quiet, save for the distant hum of the staff going about their duties. The roses were in full bloom, their vibrant reds and whites a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me.
As I strolled along the stone pathway, memories surfaced—memories of a different time, a different me.
I remembered the nights I would sit in this very garden, waiting for Dante to come home. Back then, I would dream of a life where he would look at me the way he looked at Maria Sinclair. I had been so foolish, so blind to the reality of our situation.
Maria. Her name sent a sharp pang through my chest.
I had spent years competing with a ghost, chasing an impossible ideal. No matter how much I gave, how much I loved him, I could never be her. And yet, here I was, back in his world, tangled in his orbit once more.
"You look lost in thought."
The deep timbre of Dante's voice pulled me from my reverie. I turned to find him standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, his dark eyes locked on me.
I didn't respond, simply folded my arms across my chest and waited for him to speak.
He took a hesitant step forward. "I know I've said this before, but I need you to hear me. What happened between Maria and me—it's over. It was over long before you left."
I raised an eyebrow, my lips curving into a bitter smile. "Funny. You didn't seem so sure of that when you abandoned me for her."
His jaw tightened, and he took another step closer. "You're right. I made mistakes—countless ones. But I swear to you, Elizabeth, I've changed."
I let out a dry laugh. "Changed? Do you think a few heartfelt apologies will erase years of neglect, Dante? Do you have any idea what you put me through?"
His expression crumbled, and for the first time, I saw genuine pain in his eyes. "I know I can't undo the past, but I'm begging you to give me a chance to prove that I'm not that man anymore."
I shook my head, my chest tightening with a mix of anger and sadness. "You don't get to rewrite history, Dante. You don't get to decide when it's convenient for you to care."
He reached out, his hand brushing mine, and I froze at the unexpected warmth of his touch.
"Elizabeth," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm asking for time. Time to show you that you're the only woman I've ever truly needed."
I pulled my hand away, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're two years too late."
An Unexpected Visitor
Before Dante could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the garden. I turned to see Samuel, one of the household staff, approaching with an urgent expression.
"Miss Elizabeth," he said, bowing slightly. "There's someone here to see you."
I frowned. "Who is it?"
"They didn't give their name, but they insisted it was important," Samuel replied.
I glanced at Dante, whose brow furrowed in suspicion.
"I'll handle it," I said, brushing past him.
As I entered the main hall, I was met with the sight of a tall, impeccably dressed man with piercing blue eyes and an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance.
"Elizabeth," he said, his lips curving into a charming smile. "It's been far too long."
I blinked in surprise. "Nicholas?"
Nicholas Grey. A name I hadn't heard in years. He was a prominent figure in the business world, known for his sharp mind and ruthless tactics. We had crossed paths during my time abroad, and while there had been a spark between us, I had been too focused on rebuilding my life to pursue anything serious.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, still trying to process his sudden appearance.
"I heard you were back in town and thought I'd pay you a visit," he said, his gaze sweeping over me with open admiration. "You look stunning, as always."
Before I could respond, Dante's voice cut through the room like a blade.
"And who the hell are you?"
I turned to see him standing at the entrance to the hall, his posture tense and his expression stormy.
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Ah, you must be Dante Stormborn. I've heard a lot about you."
Dante's eyes narrowed. "The feeling isn't mutual."
The tension in the room was palpable as the two men sized each other up. I could feel the weight of their unspoken challenge, and for a moment, I considered stepping in to diffuse the situation. But a part of me wanted to see how this would play out.
"I didn't come here to cause trouble," Nicholas said, his tone calm but edged with subtle defiance. "I came to see Elizabeth. Unless, of course, she's not interested."
All eyes turned to me, and I felt the weight of their gazes like a physical force.
This was my moment to reclaim control, to remind Dante that I was no longer the woman he could manipulate and discard.
"Nicholas," I said, my voice steady. "I'd love to catch up."
The flicker of hurt in Dante's eyes was fleeting, but I caught it. He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tight as he watched Nicholas offer me his arm.
As we walked past Dante, I felt a surge of vindication. For the first time in years, I wasn't the one left behind.
But as we stepped into the cool afternoon air, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a much larger battle. One that would force me to confront not just Dante but the deepest, most vulnerable parts of myself.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone