As the sleek black car pulled up to Dante’s estate, Annabelle’s stomach tightened.

The sprawling mansion loomed ahead, its stone facade glowing under the late afternoon sun.

The place was imposing yet oddly familiar now, almost as if it had etched itself into her memory. She didn’t want to acknowledge the sense of comfort creeping into her chest.

She chafed at the unwelcome feeling of coming home.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Dante’s staff and some of his men lined up near the entrance, waiting for their arrival.

A wave of embarrassment swept through her.

“It was almost like they were welcoming the lady of the house,”...