Not This Time, Don Cassian Chapter 03

Not This Time, Don Cassian Chapter 03

Two weeks later, at the family meeting, Cassian officially announced Camilla’s pregnancy.
He stood at the head of the table. His eyes scanned the room and finally landed on me.

“Starting next week,” he said, “The Foundation, the art museum, the Lakeshore properties. The clean businesses. Camilla takes the books.”

The room was silent.

Those were the family’s cleanest, most respectable assets.

Our public face. The charity galas, the press conferences, the high-society events.

They were the assets I had personally dragged out of a swamp of dirty money and made legitimate. The “face of the Vitelli family.”

Marcello, one of the Elders, glanced at me but said nothing.

Antonio’s lips moved, his eyes holding a pity I didn’t want to see.

“Aurora will continue to handle—” Cassian paused. “The cash from Mexico. The Miami laundry. The East Coast arms deals.”

My nails dug deeper into my palms.

That was the dirtiest part of the Vitelli empire.

Drugs. Weapons. Body disposals. Every transaction had a body count.

“Aurora has been handling this for six years. It’s second nature to her,” Cassian added. “That business is too dirty, too dangerous. Camilla is pregnant. I don’t want her touching it.”

He said it with such tenderness.

A tenderness that was never for me.

In that moment, I saw it all with perfect clarity.

He didn’t want Camilla’s hands to get bloody, because Camilla deserved to be protected.

And me? I was the one he had pushed into the mud himself.

He had spent six years training me to be the family’s sharpest, dirtiest tool.

“Understood,” I heard my own steady voice say.

Cassian finally looked at me again.

I couldn’t tell what was in his eyes. Hesitation? Guilt? Or was he expecting me to be grateful for this “decent arrangement”?

I didn’t want to know anymore.

Ten years of loving him had taught me one thing.

Every time I tried to read the warmth in his eyes, I was just fooling myself.

On my way out of the meeting, I passed the main house’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

Camilla was in the garden, holding a bouquet of white roses. Cassian’s dark gray coat was draped over her shoulders.

I recognized that coat. I bought it with him on a business trip to Milan three years ago.

It was raining that day in Milan. He’d pulled the coat from his own shoulders and wrapped it around me. “You’re shivering, Aurora.”

It was the kindest thing he had said to me in six years.

I had held onto that memory for three years.

Now, that coat was on another woman’s shoulders.

I leaned against the cold wall until the feeling passed. There were no tears. Just a quiet, final crack in my soul.

Walking back to the east wing, I passed the backyard.

I stopped dead.

Ombra’s doghouse was empty.

His favorite old blanket was still inside. The water in his bowl was bone dry.

My guard dog. The one who had been with me for years. A gift from Cassian on my sixteenth birthday. He was gone.

I spun around and ran back to the main house. For the first time ever, I burst into Cassian’s study without being announced.

He was on the phone. He frowned when I stormed in.

“Where is Ombra?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He said, “I’ll call you back,” into the phone and hung up. His eyes, cold and distant, landed on me.

“He’s gone.”

“Gone where? Why?”

He got up from behind his desk and walked to the bar to pour a drink. He didn’t even look at me.

“Camilla’s pregnant. She doesn’t like dogs. She said the way Ombra looks at her makes her uncomfortable.”

“But Ombra is mine!” My voice shot up. “You gave him to me!”

That finally made him turn around.

He looked at me, his eyes empty of any warmth. Like he was looking at a stranger throwing a tantrum.

“So I took him back.”

He swirled the whiskey in his glass. The ice cubes clinked.

“You don’t need him anymore.”

The air froze.

A sharp pain stabbed my heart.

I remembered when Ombra was just a puppy. Cassian put him in my arms and said, “Aurora, Ombra will protect you from now on.”

I thought it was a brother’s affection for his sister.

Later, I secretly hoped it was a man’s cautious love for a girl.

Now I finally understood. It was just “the daughter of the Vitelli family needs a good watchdog.”

I was being exiled. Why would an exile need a guard dog?

“I see.” I turned away, not wanting him to see the heat in my eyes.

His cold voice came from behind me.

“Is there anything else? If not, get out. And don’t you ever burst in here like that again.”

I walked out of the study, my legs unsteady.

Marco the butler saw me at the end of the hall and hurried over.

He saw my pale face, and his eyes filled with real concern and pity.

“Miss Aurora,” he hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Please… take care of yourself.”

Back in my study, I locked the door and slid to the floor.

The evening sun slanted through the window. I buried my face in my knees, my shoulders shaking. I didn’t make a sound.

Thank god I had already decided to leave.

Thank god I hadn’t put my last shred of hope in him showing me any mercy.