Chapter 87: The Devil’s Nemesis Is Back
The gray city sky was heavy with gloom as Ana walked aimlessly through the streets, completely numb to the cold wind cutting through her light dress.
She hadn’t grabbed a coat when she slipped out of Damian’s office, nor did she care where her feet were taking her. Her mind was a chaotic, toxic spiral of self-loathing.
It’s all my fault, she thought, her eyes stinging with hot, bitter tears. Everything I touch turns to garbage. My family ruined Arthur Sterling... and now they’re using me to destroy Damian, too. If I had never existed, if I had just stayed in that house, none of this would be happening.
The overwhelming guilt crushed her chest until she could barely breathe. She couldn’t face Damian’s dark, terrifying rage again... not because she feared he would hurt her, but because she truly believed she was the curse ruining his life.
Desperate to hide from the world, Ana turned down a quiet, cobblestone street miles away from the Sterling Global headquarters. Tucked between old brick buildings was a small, secluded café with dim amber lights glowing behind fogged glass windows.
Hugging her arms tightly around herself, Ana pushed the heavy wooden door open, the tiny bell above chinging softly.
Her head was down, her vision blurred with tears, and her foot caught on the wooden threshold. She stumbled forward with a quiet, panicked gasp...
Before she could hit the floor, a pair of strong, gentle arms caught her instantly by the waist, steadying her effortlessly.
"Whoa there, easy..." a smooth, warm baritone voice chuckled gently.
Ana gasped, her hand instinctively resting against a broad, solid chest covered in dark, expensive wool. She looked up, her dark eyes wide, wet, and trembling.
The man holding her paused. His dark eyes widened in sudden, genuine surprise as he took in her pale, distraught face.
Slowly, a bright, breathtaking smile spread across Dante Sullivan’s handsome features.
"Anastasia?" Dante murmured, his voice filled with a sudden, rich warmth that instantly cut through the heavy silence of the café. "Well... look who literally fell into my arms again."
Ana blinked, her trembling lips parting in shock. "Dante..."
Dante didn’t let go right away, his hands resting gently on her arms to ensure she wouldn’t lose her balance. His bright, welcoming smile softened into immediate concern as he noticed the deep, heartbreaking sorrow reflecting in her eyes and the pale shivers running through her tiny frame.
"You look like you’ve seen a ghost, little one," Dante spoke softly, his warm, kind gaze scanning her face. "What are you doing all the way out here alone?"
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Dante gently guided her to a quiet, velvet-lined booth tucked away in the back corner of the café. Minutes later, he returned with two steaming cups of fresh hazelnut coffee, placing one softly in front of her.
Ana sat with her head down, her small hands wrapped around the warm ceramic mug. Despite her desperate efforts to wipe them away with her sleeve, hot, silent tears continued to spill over her lashes, tracing wet paths down her pale cheeks.
The crushing weight of the guilt was eating her alive from the inside out.
Dante leaned back in his seat, his dark eyes watching her with a mixture of quiet sadness and profound gentleness.
"I don’t know what happened, Anastasia," Dante spoke softly, pushing a clean linen napkin toward her across the small wooden table. "But I do know that whatever burden you’re carrying, you don’t deserve to bleed over it. Tell me... what can I really do to help you feel better?"
Ana stared down at the swirling dark liquid in her cup. Her mind was in complete shambles, clouded by exhausted terror, self-loathing, and the haunting reality of her family’s crushing demands.
Without thinking, a bitter, breathless laugh escaped her trembling lips.
"A hundred million dollars," Ana blurted out softly.
The moment the words left her mouth, the fog in her brain cleared. Her dark eyes snapped wide in sheer horror. The realization of what she had just said hit her like a bucket of ice water, and a wave of pure humiliation washed over her.
"I... I’m so sorry!" Ana gasped frantically, her voice trembling as she shook her head. "I don’t know why I said that! It was a terrible, stupid joke... I’m just really tired, I shouldn’t have..."
Overwhelmed with embarrassment, she hurriedly pushed her chair back, scrambling to get up and run out of the café.
Before she could take a single step, Dante’s long arm reached across the small table. His fingers wrapped gently yet firmly around her delicate wrist, halting her in her tracks.
Ana froze, her chest heaving as she slowly looked back down at him.
Dante didn’t look angry, nor was he laughing. His handsome face was completely calm, his dark, piercing eyes locked onto hers with an absolute, unshakable seriousness that made her heart skip a beat.
"I’ll give you a hundred million dollars," Dante said smoothly.
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In the top-floor suite of Sterling Global, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Damian stood towering over his desk, his jaw set in a hard, dangerous line. Across the room, Clara and Marcus were standing silently, watching the CEO rapidly issue orders to his private security team over the line.
"I don’t care if she turned off her phone or ditched her car," Damian growled into the phone, his tone sharp enough to cut through steel. "I want Mia’s residential addresses, her family’s properties, and every hotel she’s booked under a fake name within the last twenty-four hours. Cross-reference her bank activity with Harrison Stark’s shell accounts. Find out where she’s hiding before she slips out of the state."
"Understood, Mr. Sterling," his chief of security replied from the main command center. "We’re already running her digital footprint through the system."
While issuing orders regarding Mia, Damian tapped his private phone on the desk. He hadn’t completely lost control when Ana slipped out of the room... his top personal security officer had immediately spotted her walking out of the building and had been discreetly following her at a safe distance on Damian’s direct orders.
Damian fired off a rapid text to the officer.
[Damian]: Where is she? Send me her location now.
A second later, his phone buzzed on the desk.
[Security Chief]: She walked into a quiet café a few miles out. Sir, someone just approached her inside. Sending visual now.
An image file popped up on his encrypted screen.
Damian snatched the phone off the desk, his dark eyes scanning the photo. It was taken from outside through the fogged glass window of a quiet café.
The photo was slightly blurry and taken from a distance, showing Ana sitting at a corner booth with a tall man leaning across the small table.
His thumb rapidly zoomed in on the image, sharpening the pixels over the man’s face.
The moment the man’s features became clear, Damian’s breath hitched in his chest. The camera had caught the exact second the man reached across the table, his fingers wrapped firmly around Ana’s delicate wrist... and the handsome, calm face looking down at her was none other than Dante Sullivan.
Damian’s dark eyes flared with pure, unadulterated venom. A vein throbbed violently at his temple, and the phone creaked under the sheer force of his grip.
"Fuck!" Damian swore out loud, a filthy, thunderous curse echoing violently through the office.
Clara and Marcus both flinched, stepping back as Damian rounded his mahogany desk in long, furious strides, grabbing his dark suit jacket.
Without another word, he shoved open the heavy double doors of his office and stormed down the private hallway toward the VIP elevator, pulling out his phone to order his strike detail to move.