Chapter 6 Janet Kingsley
Anya froze.
The room, once filled with his warmth, now felt cold. Her breath caught in her chest as she sat on his lap, his strong arms still wrapped around her. But Janet’s voice echoed louder in her ears than anything else.
Wife?
Anya tried to pull away, but Dante’s grip tightened around her waist. He drew her closer, burying his face in her neck. With one hand, he took the phone from her.
“Mom,” Dante said, voice colder now. “I told you—I don’t care. That marriage or agreement—whatever the hell that was—happened when I was a kid. I’m not marrying her.”
Janet’s anger surged on the other end. “Dante! The Carters and our family have been tied together for generations. You can’t just dismiss this. They’re powerful, respected, and Charles only has one daughter. Everything will go to her. If you marry her, you’ll unite two powerful legacies. Our business will thrive!”
Every word sank into Anya like poison.
The more Janet spoke, the smaller she felt. Her heart pounded with humiliation, every sentence confirming that she had nothing to offer—not compared to the perfect heiress waiting to take her place.
She pushed against Dante’s arms, prying his hands off her waist. He resisted, holding her tighter—but she forced herself free, rising from his lap and grabbing her bag. Her hands shook as she shoved her things inside.
He stood up as well, watching her—jaw tight, brows drawn—his mother still on the line.
“I don’t need any of that,” he growled. “I’m not marrying her. For fuck’s sake, Mom—”
“I don’t care what you want!” Janet snapped. “When she comes home, you will meet her. That’s final. I won’t let you waste your life staying single. She’s the only girl you’ll ever marry. End of story.”
Before he could say another word, she hung up.
Dante let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair.
“Anya—” he stepped toward her, but she took a step back, creating space between them.
Her voice was low, calm, but distant. “I have something important to take care of today, Mr. Kingsley. I won’t be able to come to work.” She looked away, her fingers fumbling with the doorknob. “Sorry about that. I’ll head out first.”
She opened the door and quickly walked out of the suite.
Dante stood still, watching her leave, his chest tightening. The way she addressed him—so formal, so cold—it clawed at his insides.
He rubbed his eyes, jaw clenched, breath uneven. He wanted to run after her, to pull her back and tell her the truth, but he couldn’t risk forcing her to stay.
Even though every part of him wanted nothing more than to hold on.
***
Anya stepped out of the hotel, her fingers trembling around the strap of her purse. She kept her head high, her face blank, but inside she was falling apart.
‘He’s going to marry someone else.’
She clenched her jaw, swallowing the ache in her throat. ‘I can’t stay near him anymore. If I do, I’ll only get in the way. His wife will get angry.’
The word wife echoed in her head, cruel and unforgiving.
A sharp pain stabbed through her chest. She pressed a hand over her heart, trying to calm herself, but the ache only grew.
‘I have to move out. I can’t live in that house anymore.’
Just the thought of it made it hard to breathe. Her decision hurt more than she expected—but staying would hurt worse.
***
At the Carter Corporation headquarters, Luca strode briskly down the hallway toward Charles Carter’s CEO office. Without wasting a second, he entered and headed straight to the desk.
“Uncle Charles, here’s the information,” he said, placing a file in front of him with a grin. “We found Anya. She left not too long ago, so tracking her wasn’t too hard. Lucky for us.”
Charles stood up instantly, a hopeful smile lighting up his usually stern face as he reached for the file.
“Where is she?”
“That family kicked her out,” Luca said, his voice laced with contempt. “They found out she wasn’t their real daughter and tossed her onto the streets.”
Charles’s face hardened, fury replacing joy.
“They threw her out without a second thought,” Luca continued, anger flashing in his eyes. “Didn’t even ask where she’d go. But luckily, James Fox arranged for her to stay at a friend’s house before everything fell apart.”
Charles clenched his fists. “And now?”
“She’s staying with the Kingsleys,” Luca replied. “Griffin Kingsley took her in after James sent her there through a friend.”
“The Kingsleys? As in the tech company owners?” Charles confirmed.
“The same.”
Charles let out a heavy breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Good,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut in relief. “She’s safe.”
Then Luca opened the file. “Here. This is her—Anya.”
Charles picked up the paper, staring down at the photo. His breath caught. Her smile. Her eyes.
“She looks so much like her mother,” he whispered, eyes misting. “I haven’t seen her since she was two.”
His hands trembled as he brushed his fingers over her photo, his heart aching with years of guilt, love, and longing.
“Don’t worry, Uncle,” Luca said, walking up to Charles and giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’ve been looking for her for years. Let’s bring her home as soon as possible.”
“Yeah…” Charles murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Luca’s words carried a sense of certainty. “The Kingsleys have been our family friends for generations. I’m sure they’re treating her well. It’s time to get her back where she belongs. She shouldn’t be out there alone anymore, not with her father here.”
A flicker of hope flashed across Charles’s face, and he gave a small, relieved smile. “Let’s go. We’ll bring her home.”
***
Anya trudged down the stairs, her suitcase in tow. The house felt hollow, like a shell echoing with memories. After returning, she had looked around for Griffin, but the maids told her he had gone out to meet some friends.
She didn’t mind. In fact, it was a blessing. It gave her the perfect window to leave—quietly, without a scene.
She had hurriedly packed everything she owned, stuffing it all into a suitcase and dragging it down the stairs. Now, standing in the marble-floored hall, she took one last look around the palace. Her heart was heavy. This place had been a refuge, and Griffin... he had been nothing but kind to her.
Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She had hoped to spend more time with the old man who treated her like family. But maybe it was better this way—leaving before she got too attached.
Just as she gripped the suitcase tighter and turned to walk out, the front doors slammed open.
A woman stormed in.
Her eyes locked on Anya like a hawk spotting prey. She was dressed in elegant, modern fashion—high-waisted trousers, a sleek blouse with silver buttons, and flowing sleeves. The fabric was clearly designer—rich, luxurious, and custom-tailored. Everything about her screamed wealth and power.
Anya froze, surprised by the woman’s sudden entrance. But the woman didn’t even blink. She marched directly up to her, face emotionless—cold, proud, and intimidating.
Then, without warning, the woman slapped her across the face.
Anya staggered back, shock and pain flooding her system. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned to look at the woman, her breath caught in her throat.
“My son didn’t come home last night,” the woman snapped, her voice ice-cold. “You were with him, weren’t you? You slept with him?”
Anya’s pulse raced, her breath shallow. Was this... Janet Kingsley? Dante’s mother?
Janet was livid. Her hands clenched at her sides, her lips curled in fury. Her men had informed her that Dante had gone to a bar last night. He stayed at the suite—fine. But this time, unlike every other time, he wasn’t alone.
There had been a woman.
And that woman, she had just discovered, was the same girl they had taken in as a refugee less than a week ago.
“You bitch,” Janet seethed. “How dare you? We gave you a roof to sleep under for a few nights out of pity, and you went after my son like some desperate tramp. He has a fiancée! What kind of lowlife are you, trying to steal a man while living off scraps we threw your way?”
Anya’s stomach dropped. She shook her head in disbelief, unable to comprehend the venom in Janet’s voice. “Mrs. Kingsley… I didn’t know he had a fiancée.”
“Shut up!” Janet shouted. Her voice echoed off the marble walls like thunder. “This was our last chance for Dante to secure the Carter girl. You know who the Carters are, don’t you? The diamond brand seen all over the world? That’s them! And who the hell are you?”
Janet’s voice cracked as rage bled into desperation.
“And now I find out he slept with you ?” She scoffed bitterly.
Anya’s chest heaved. Her fists clenched. Her patience—already thin—snapped. She spoke slowly, trying to hold her anger in check.
“I’m not marrying your son,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I’m moving out right now. You don’t have to worry about me. Here’s my suitcase. I’m not someone who needs charity, Mrs. Kingsley.”
Janet’s eyes flashed with pure hatred.
“Good,” she spat. “Go throw yourself on the street and seduce someone else. Don’t come near my son again. You’ve already sunk your claws into him with that pretty face of yours, filled with nothing but evil.”
Her words cut like a blade.
Anya, agitated and furious, didn’t want to be ungrateful to the people who had taken her into their home—even though all she wanted to do at that moment was scream at Janet. But she held back her voice, tightened her grip on her luggage, and turned to leave the grand palace without saying a word. She completely ignored Janet’s rant.
But Janet wasn’t having it. She stormed over, her fury boiling over as she grabbed Anya by the arm, yanking her back. "Where the hell do you think you’re going?" Janet spat. "You’re not leaving until you learn your lesson. You’re going to learn exactly how to not mess with me and my family."
“I’m leaving this house, Mrs. Kingsley,” Anya said, her voice trembling with rage as she struggled to free herself. “What else do you want?! Let go of me!”
But instead of letting go, Janet turned toward the tall, burly guard standing silently nearby.
“Here,” she said with a vicious glare. She shoved Anya toward him. “She’s yours now.”
The guard didn’t hesitate. He caught Anya in his arms, wrapping her in an iron grip that left her immobile.
Anya’s heart slammed in her chest. Her entire body trembled at the implication. “Let go of me! I said I’m leaving!” she cried, thrashing in panic.
But Janet continued coldly, her voice laced with poison. “Take her away. Do whatever you want with her. Just make sure there’s not a single part of her disgusting body left that my son would want. My son doesn’t like used things.”
Anya’s pulse pounded in her ears as she struggled, her body shaking with fear and disbelief. She kicked her legs, desperately trying to break free, but the guard’s grip only tightened, dragging her across the floor.
"Let go!" she cried out, her voice broken, her tears threatening to spill. But the guard just smirked, cruel amusement in his eyes as he shoved her backward, his hands roaming over her.
Anya’s mind spun. She needed to escape, but her body felt paralyzed with fear. She scrambled on the floor, her hands trembling as she tried to push herself up.
“Be with me now,” the guard growled, his voice thick with malice. “I’ll give you a bed to sleep in.” He laughed, reaching to rip her dress from her shoulders.
The guard, growing more furious with every attempt she made to escape, grabbed her by the leg, hauling her toward him like she weighed nothing.
“No!” Anya shouted, kicking him hard in the stomach. He stumbled back, shocked for a moment—but then rage twisted his face.
“You little bitch,” he snarled, storming toward her again.
Anya scrambled to her feet, but he caught her by the shoulders and violently spun her around before slapping her across the face.
The sound of the slap echoed through the hall.
A maid standing behind a pillar near the kitchen saw everything. Her hands shook as she fumbled to make a call.
“Mr. Kingsley,” she whispered urgently into the phone. “Please come home immediately. Something’s wrong with Miss Anya.”
She hung up quickly.
Back in the hall, Janet, still watching the scene, said coldly to the guard, “Don’t waste any more time. Enough of this. Just finish it. Hurry up.”
Anya was sobbing, crawling away, her face soaked in tears. Her eyes darted around until they landed on the knife lying on the table next to the fruits. Without a second thought, she lunged for it and pointed it at Janet, her hands shaking, her breaths heavy and uneven.
"Stay back!" Anya shouted, her voice strained and full of desperation. She pointed the knife at Janet’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks. "If you come any closer, I swear I’ll kill both of you."
Janet sneered and lunged forward, trying to grab the knife, but Anya was quick. With a wild swing, she sliced across Janet’s hand, drawing blood. Janet howled in pain, stepping back in surprise.
"Ah!" Janet shrieked, clutching her bleeding hand, her eyes filled with fury.
Just then, the front door burst open. A man’s voice rang out, urgent.
“Mrs. Kingsley! Mr. Carter is here! He came with a full convoy, and there are people surrounding the house!”
Janet froze, confused. “Carter?” she echoed. “Charles Carter?”
Her body stiffened.
She straightened her back, suddenly composed. ‘Is he here to discuss the marriage of his daughter to Dante?’ she thought, excitement building in her chest. This could be the moment she’d been waiting for.
Excitement flared in her chest at the thought.
“Hey, you!” she barked at the guard, grabbing Anya’s suitcase and throwing it toward him. “Take this, and take her. Get her out of here—now. Through the backdoor. Don’t touch her. I don’t need trouble with the Carters. Just dump her on the street. I never want to see her near my house again.”
She turned to Anya, eyes filled with cruel disdain. “Learned your lesson yet? If you ever come near my family again, I’ll make sure my men finish you.”
The bodyguard lunged, snatching the knife from Anya’s hand and tossing it across the room. He gripped her by the face and dragged her toward the backdoor like she was nothing.
Within minutes, she was gone.
The house fell eerily silent again.
But just as the door slammed shut, a heavy, determined set of footsteps echoed through the hallway.
Janet straightened instantly, wiping the blood from her hand, fixing her face into a fake smile just as a imposing figure entered.
Charles Carter.
Janet’s heart jumped. She rushed forward, putting on her most polished act.
“Charles, is that really you?” she gushed, smiling brightly. “It’s been so many years since I last saw you!”
Charles stepped into the grand hall, his gaze scanning the luxurious surroundings. He didn’t sit down, instead pausing to take in the house in silence. His sharp eyes quickly turned to Janet, offering her a polite smile that didn’t reach the coldness in his eyes.
“I’m alright. How are you doin, Janet?” he asked, his voice calm but distant.
Janet’s face lit up with a practiced smile. "Everything is great. Come, take a seat. Don’t stand around like that. Actually, how about we go for brunch? There’s a great place down the street. We can talk there."
Charles raised his hand, halting her words, and she immediately fell silent, her eyes shifting to him with a hint of confusion.
“I’m not here for drinks,” he said, his tone firm. “I’m here to find someone.”
Janet immediately tensed, her face shifting to one of confusion. “Someone? Who are you looking for?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity. Then, her face brightened as a thought crossed her mind. “Is it Dante? He’s at the office right now working. How about I take you to him? You can meet him there, and I’ll introduce you both.”
Charles lifted his hand again, silencing her with a glance, before meeting her eyes directly. “I’m not looking for your son. I’m looking for someone else.”
Janet’s confusion deepened. “Who are you looking for?” she asked again, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern.
Before Charles could respond, Luca, who had been on a call a moment ago, hurried over, whispering in Charles's ear. "We’ve found Anya. We should leave right now."
Charles’s body stiffened, a surge of urgency flooding through him. His breath quickened as excitement and tension flooded his system. "Great. Let’s go," he said, voice low and commanding. Without wasting another moment, he and Luca turned to leave.
“Charles, where are you going?” Janet called after him, hurrying to catch up. “What are you looking for? Come on, you’ve come all this way, stay for a while. Don’t leave just like that. How about tea?” she continued, trying to keep him in the house.
Charles stopped abruptly, letting out a quick sigh, before turning to face her. “We don’t have time right now, Janet. We’ll have tea later. We might meet again soon,” he said with urgency in his voice.
The Kingsleys had taken Anya in when she had nothing. If they had treated her well, Charles was more than willing to repay their kindness. Though he didn’t like Janet—her nature rubbed him the wrong way—he was still grateful they had given Anya a place to stay.
He turned again, walking swiftly toward the door.
Janet stood there, confused, watching his retreating figure. “Who were they looking for?” she wondered, her mind racing.