Chapter 23 I. HATE. YOU.
“Anya, there’s a woman outside. She’s screaming, asking to see you!” a panicked employee at the Carters’ office burst into her office, eyes wide with alarm.
Anya frowned, immediately rising from her desk. Without a word, she followed the woman down the elevator, and then to the ground floor.
Before she even reached the main entrance hall, a shrill voice sliced through the air like a blade.
“Get that bitch here! Didn’t you hear me? If you don’t bring Anya out right now, I’ll blast this entire place down and set it on fire!”
The employees stood frozen in shock as Zara thrashed and yelled, knocking over a small table in the waiting area like a madwoman. Her hair was disheveled, eyes bloodshot, voice cracking from screaming at anyone who looked her way—like she owned the building and everyone in it.
The moment her eyes landed on Anya walking in, she went silent for half a second, then her rage exploded again.
“There she is! You!” Zara’s voice wavered between a sob and a snarl as she stormed toward Anya, fury burning in every step. “You ruined my fiancé’s family! They’ve got nothing now— nothing! They’re begging people just for a roof over their heads. What the hell did you do?!”
Anya didn’t flinch. She met Zara’s fire with ice.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said flatly.
“Oh really?” Zara’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Don’t play dumb! You had his company crushed like it was some kind of game. Then you came after my family too! Do you even know what my mom is going through right now? She’s miserable and broke!”
Anya’s patience wore thinner with each word. “What’s that got to do with me? Your own bad choices catching up with you?”
“You think you’re so clean, huh?” Zara snapped, voice rising. “Ever since the day we met you at the restaurant—when you showed off that stupid palace like you were royalty—everything went downhill! You’re the reason this is all happening! My family raised you like their own daughter. We gave you everything! And this is how you repay us?!”
She stepped closer, eyes wild. “Pay it back. Every damn cent!”
Her voice pierced the hall.
“Twenty million dollars! You hear me? Twenty million! Pay back every cent we spent on you!”
Everyone around them stared in stunned silence.
Anya blinked, genuinely stunned. “Twenty million? Are you serious right now?”
Zara’s eyes flared with manic rage. “Yes! You ruined us! Don’t you dare act innocent—pay up!”
Anya’s jaw tightened. “You want me to support your whole family for life? Really? Whatever you gave me, you already took back when you threw me out like garbage. I left that house with nothing but the clothes on my back. What more do you want from me?”
“I don’t care where you get it from,” Zara snapped, voice climbing again. “Sell yourself if you have to! My parents picked up some street rat and raised her like one of their own, and now you act like a queen?! You’re disgusting!”
“She’ll pay it.”
A calm but cold voice rang out.
Everyone turned. Luca descended the staircase slowly, his suit pristine, his face carved in steel. His presence instantly shifted the room’s energy.
Zara whirled around, eyebrows raised. “Who the hell are you? Her fucking boyfriend?”
“What does it matter to you?” Luca said coolly, walking to Anya and gently pulling her to his side. His arm rested around her protectively, but his eyes never left Zara.
Zara scoffed, folding her arms. “Whatever. You can both pay me back then. Twenty million—plus interest!”
Luca’s expression didn’t change. “Fine. You’ll get the money. I will arrange for an accountant to bring it all right now.”
Zara’s smug smile returned.
“But,” Luca added sharply, “before that, you’ll sign a legal document stating that Anya has no remaining obligation, no debt, and no relationship with your family ever again. No contact, no claims, nothing. Forever.”
Zara’s smile faltered. She blinked—and then let out a mocking laugh.
“Wow. You’re really taking this act seriously, huh? Have you ever seen that much money in your dreams? What are you going to do next, put me in jail for embezzlement?” she jeered. “You’re just a manager, not the owner. You have no right to talk to me like that.”
She looked him over, eyes dripping with disdain. “This bitch can’t even land a janitor. And now she’s clinging to some office manager like she hit the jackpot. Pathetic.”
Then, her voice turned sharper, accusing. “And how dare you ask me to commit a crime? Take money from this company’s accountant? You thief!”
Suddenly, Charles entered the building, his eyes catching the scene.
Several staff members froze, whispering nervously. One of the senior managers rushed forward, pale-faced and sweating.
“Mr. Carter, please stay back. We’re so sorry. There’s been a personal disturbance. We’re handling it.”
“Mr. Carter?” Zara turned sharply, her eyes widening in shock the moment she saw him.
In a heartbeat, her entire demeanor changed. Her rage melted into desperate charm. She practically flew across the floor toward him, hair swinging, lips curling into a sudden smile.
“Mr. Carter! You're the owner of the company, right? My parents are close friends with—”
“What’s the problem?” Charles cut her off, his voice ice-cold.
The pleasant facade on Zara’s face twitched, but she quickly recovered, flipping back into outrage.
“You came just in time!” she cried, jabbing a finger toward Luca like she’d caught a criminal red-handed. “This employee of yours—he’s scamming your company account! He’s throwing money at her!” She turned and pointed accusingly at Anya, her voice climbing. “She’s nothing but a low-level worker, and he’s paying off his mistress with company funds! They’re in it together, I’m telling you. Who knows how much they’ve stolen already!”
Her voice echoed in the tense silence.
With every accusation, Charles’s expression darkened. The muscle in his jaw ticked, his hands curled into tight fists by his sides. The temperature in the room dropped.
“Enough!” His voice cracked like a whip through the air.
Zara stumbled back, startled by the sheer force of his tone. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
But Charles wasn’t done.
“We’ll pay you back for every damn penny,” he spat, his voice sharp with restrained fury. “And we’ll pay you back for every word that came out of your filthy mouth.”
Zara’s face crumpled in confusion. “Pay back? What are you talking about?”
Anya stepped forward, quietly placing a calming hand on Charles’s arm. “Dad,” she said softly, “it’s okay. Let it go. It’s not worth it. They never spent more than a few thousand. Now they’re trying to extort millions. It’s just a scam.”
Zara’s head jerked as if someone had slapped her. “Dad?” she echoed in disbelief. “You’re her dad?”
The entire room froze.
Gasps filled the air. Heads turned. Murmurs swept across the hall like wildfire. Employees exchanged wide-eyed glances, some already whispering behind hands.
Anya was Charles Carter’s daughter ?
Zara’s lips trembled. Her arrogance cracked.
“Mr. Carter, please…” she stammered, her voice turning sugary sweet again. “Please don’t be angry. I didn’t mean it like that. I—I was just joking. You don’t need to pay anything. Really. Don’t take it seriously…”
But Charles had already turned, storming off with Anya beside him, his hand protectively resting on her back as if shielding her from the world.
Inside his office, the tension hadn’t lifted. As soon as the door closed, Charles turned sharply toward her, his brows furrowed, concern etched deep in his features. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice low but tight with worry.
“I’m fine, Dad,” she replied, soft and calm.
He didn’t look convinced. His eyes scanned her face, down to her arms, as though searching for invisible wounds. “That woman... she didn’t seem like a good person.”
Anya let out a tired breath and smiled faintly. “It’s not a big deal.”
Charles ran a hand down his face, his jaw tight. “They didn’t treat you well, did they?” His voice hardened. “Did they ever hurt you?”
“No, Dad,” she said gently, walking over to him and lightly guiding him toward his chair. “Everything’s fine, Dad. Stop worrying.”
He sat down stiffly, the worry still clouding his eyes as he looked up at her. But he didn’t press further. Her presence alone was enough to calm the storm inside him—at least for now.
Outside the office walls, however, chaos bloomed.
An hour later, the news had already consumed every media outlet. Headlines blared on screens across the city:
‘Charles Carter’s Long-Lost Daughter Returns!’
‘Carter Diamonds Heiress, Recently Revealed, Found Working Incognito as Employee’
‘Carter Diamonds’ New Face: Friend or Foe to Luca Stanson?’
Paparazzi flooded news sites with photos of Anya, speculation swirling around her sudden reappearance like wildfire.
As Anya stepped out of the building, the soft glow of early evening casting a golden hue across the concrete steps, she spotted someone waiting.
Dante was leaning against his sleek black car, sleeves rolled up, a cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers. The moment he saw her, he flicked it to the ground, crushed it with a sharp twist of his shoe, and strode toward her with long, quick steps.
His hands found her arms before she could even speak. “I heard your old family created a scene at the office today,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Anya mumbled, her gaze darting away.
He tilted his head, trying to catch her eyes. “Did your dad protect you? Who else was there? Who helped you?”
“Yeah. My dad and Lu—” her words froze as their eyes met. “You… you already know?”
Dante’s expression didn’t shift. Not even a flicker of surprise. “About you being Charles’s daughter?” he said casually. “It’s all over the news.”
“You don’t look shocked at all,” she whispered.
Dante slipped his hands into his pockets, clenching his fists. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and take her away, far from everything and everyone. The urge was suffocating—but he swallowed it down and nodded absently.
“I had a feeling,” he admitted quietly. “You never told me where you stayed… you always acted strange around Mr. Carter and Luca. And that gift Luca gave you—something that expensive? It didn’t make sense unless you were someone important.”
“Anya?”
Luca appeared beside her smoothly, his gaze flicking once toward Dante, then settling back on Anya. He didn’t spare Dante another glance.
“Are you ready to leave?”
“Yeah,” Anya said, clearing her throat and forcing herself to smile.
“Great. I’ve made dinner reservations.”
Dante’s eyes sharpened, locking onto Anya. But she didn’t meet his gaze.
‘He already left me so many times. I won’t give him another chance to do it again,’ Anya told herself, swallowing the ache in her chest. She slipped her arm into Luca’s.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Luca’s face softened, a rare warmth in his eyes as he walked beside her. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked quietly.
Behind them, Dante stood frozen, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. The calm he’d arrived with had completely vanished, replaced by a furious storm of jealousy, hurt, and frustration, and the searing pain of watching her walk away, arm linked with another man.
***
Luca gently guided Anya to her seat inside the grand hotel’s private dining room. She hadn’t expected them to come somewhere so lavish for dinner—crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, velvet curtains framed towering windows, and golden accents gleamed under soft, ambient lighting.
But then Luca smiled at her, and she didn’t want to think too much into it. Quietly, she settled beside him.
The place was luxurious. A delicate balance of peaceful intimacy and extravagant luxury. Soft piano music drifted in the background, mingling with the low hum of distant city life beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. To the left, the breathtaking skyline stretched endlessly—a sparkling painting of lights that seemed to hush the world’s noise.
Luca picked up the menu, his finger tracing a few of the chef’s specials as he quietly suggested dishes. Anya nodded, returning his smile and telling him which ones she preferred for herself.
But a few tables away, a pair of burning eyes never left them. Dante sat with arms folded tightly across his chest, his jaw clenched like he was barely holding something back.
Jennifer, who had been standing nearby, noticed the tension and cautiously approached the table. Leaning in slightly, she lowered her voice. “Sir,” she said politely, “Would you like to order anything? I can bring something for you.”
Dante’s fiery glare snapped to Jennifer, freezing her in place. “Do I look hungry?” he snapped through gritted teeth, voice low and sharp enough to cut glass.
“S-Sorry, sir,” Jennifer stammered, swallowing hard before scurrying back to the shadowed corner where she’d been standing moments before, trying not to draw any more attention.
Back at Anya’s table, Luca lifted a delicate bite of food with his spoon, the aroma enticing. He placed it carefully on Anya’s plate. “Try this. It’s very tasty. If you like it, I’ll order it for you too.”
Anya’s eyes softened, and a genuine smile lifted her lips. “Thanks, Luca.” She glanced at him warmly, grateful for the quiet care in his gesture.
Suddenly, Luca’s expression shifted—his brows knitting slightly in concern. He reached for a tissue and gently brushed the corner of her mouth. “There was something on your lips.”
Anya blinked, cheeks coloring as she subconsciously grabbed another tissue and wiped again, a little embarrassed.
“All done,” Luca grinned and nodded before lifting a piece of crab to her lips. “Here. Try this too.”
Caught off guard, Anya blinked, then instinctively parted her lips. Luca fed her the bite with careful tenderness.
Meanwhile, across the room, Dante’s glare darkened and intensified until the fork in his hand bent under the pressure. His eyes never left them, and Anya suddenly felt the intensity of his burning stare. Her head turned slightly in confusion, and that’s when she caught a brief glimpse of him.
‘Did he just follow me here?’ she thought, her brows drawing together in confusion. But then a sly smile curved her lips. ‘If he wants me to spite him… who am I to waste the opportunity?’
She immediately leaned closer to Luca, closing every inch of space between them, and lifted her spoon. “Here,” she said sweetly, offering him her risotto, “Since you let me try yours, you should try mine too.”
Luca’s eyes widened slightly in surprise but quickly melted. He opened his mouth, took a bite, and let out a low hum. “Mmm… This is actually very good. I’ll order it for myself next time.”
“Sure,” Anya replied coyly, then reached out with a soft touch to wipe the corner of Luca’s lips with her thumb.
That small, intimate gesture was the final straw.
Dante exploded from his seat, standing so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor.
His eyes blazed with raw fury as he stormed toward their table, every step radiating anger and desperation.
Luca, who had been quietly watching Anya’s unusual behavior with a hint of confusion, now understood the reason.
Dante stopped beside their table, the air around him practically crackling. His voice came out low, tight, every syllable soaked in venom. “Aren’t you getting a bit too close to your friend?”
Her words didn’t just sting—they sliced.
Then she turned to Luca. “Luca, please take me home. I can’t eat like this.”
Dante stood there, trembling, rage crawling under his skin like fire ants. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but Anya didn’t even glance at him again. She rose with elegance, composed as ever, and walked past him without pause.
Luca followed, throwing a smug, sideways smile that only fueled Dante’s fire.
Dante remained still, fists clenched, eyes dark with fury. The restaurant’s warm lighting and soft music suddenly felt suffocating. A second later, the word tore from his throat like a curse he couldn’t hold back—
“Motherfucker!”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving Jennifer staring after him in stunned silence.
The moment Dante stepped into the cold night air, it hit him like a slap. But it did nothing to calm him. If anything, the chill only sharpened the burn inside him.
He yanked the car door open, slammed it shut, and gripped the wheel with shaking hands. His knuckles turned white. His chest heaved with rage, breaths shallow and uneven. He drove straight to Anya’s new apartment—the address Jennifer had quietly handed over days ago.
He didn’t even remember the drive. Just red lights he wanted to smash through, horns that blared when he pushed too hard, too fast. His mind was a mess of flashing images—Anya feeding Luca, smiling at him, touching his lips. That smug bastard’s face. The way she leaned in so close, like Dante had never existed.
When he finally pulled up in front of her building, he didn’t bother waiting. He climbed out and headed straight up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The hallway outside her apartment was quiet, the silence very loud. He slammed his finger against the doorbell.
It took a minute, but eventually, the door creaked open.
Anya stood there in her silk, long nightdress, barefoot, hair slightly messy. She blinked, caught off guard. “What the hell?” she muttered.
Dante didn’t say a word. He brushed past her and walked straight in, eyes scanning the space like he expected Luca to appear from behind a wall.
But the apartment was empty.
Anya followed him in, voice rising with frustration. “What the hell?! You can’t just barge in here!”
He turned to face her, his expression hard. “Where is Luca?”
Her face froze for a second before her expression tightened. “That has nothing to do with you. Get out, Mr. Kings—”
“Stop,” he said, voice low and clipped. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “Stop calling me that. I’m Dante to you! Call me ‘Mr.’ one more damn time, and I swear I’ll show you what consequences really mean.”
Anya stiffened. Her teeth clenched at his words. “I told you to get out of my place. Why won’t you listen to me?”
“What’s going on between you and him?” he shot back. “You’ve gotten bold, Anya. You don’t even hesitate before putting your hands on him in front of me?”
“I can touch whoever I want!” she snapped. “I’ve told you a hundred times. What I do now has nothing to do with you, Mr. King—”
The very next second, he marched over and grabbed her jaw, his other hand gripping her shoulder as he pushed her back. Her body hit the wall with a soft thud, and he pinned her there, his face inches from hers, breath ragged with fury.
“You keep rejecting me,” he growled, voice low and tight. “Every damn time I’m trying to fix us, you push me away. Is it because of Luca?”
His voice was filled with frustration, but there was pain too—so much that he couldn’t control it. He was trying to hold himself back, but it was getting harder to explain the depth of the agony he was drowning in.
She stilled, her brows drawing together as she caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath. “Did you drink?”
“Don’t worry about that,” he gritted out in a deathly calm voice. “Tell me—do you love me?”
“What love?” she shot back without hesitation, making him stiffen. His hold on her jaw slipped to her neck.
“Is it the love that left me at the courthouse because you were suspicious of me over a photo?” she went on, her voice rising. “Or the love that called me a whore?”
“I didn’t call you a whore!” he barked, eyes burning. “Don’t say that about yourself!”
“You said I have a harem,” she hissed, shoving his chest with both hands. “Isn’t that the same thing, Mr. Kingsley?”
His grip faltered. She grabbed his wrist and tore his hand off her neck, forcefully pushing him away as she stepped back, breath unsteady.
“You walked out before we could get married,” she snapped, eyes glistening but fierce. “You left me standing there like I meant nothing. Not a word, not a reason. The very next day, you replaced me with another woman in the office like I was just another file to discard.”
She took another step back, her voice shaking now.
“And then you had the audacity to drag me back into a restaurant, only to walk out on me again. If that’s the kind of love I’ll get from you for the rest of my life, then I don’t want it!” Her last words came out as a roar.
She looked him dead in the eyes, breathing heavily.
“I hate you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I fucking hate you for making me feel that way.”
Dant’s body became rigid, every muscle locking in place as dread surged through him.
Anya’s eyes were wild with a suppressed rage she had buried deep inside.
She hadn’t wanted this confrontation. She had walked away quietly, without even a word. But he hadn’t let her. He had chased her, cornered her, pulled her into this moment and forced her to finally break.
“Say it again,” he muttered, his voice chilling enough to freeze anyone else into silence.
Anya didn’t flinch. She gritted out in a harsh breath, “I. HATE. YOU.”
In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance, grabbing her face with both hands and crashing his lips onto hers in a punishing kiss.
It was violent, not with anger—but with all the emotions he couldn’t name. Desperate. Messy. Breathless. His lips moved against hers like a man drowning, trying to take air from her lungs just to stay alive.
She shoved at his chest, pushed at his shoulders, but he refused to let go. Not until the kiss turned rougher, more reckless, more unhinged—until her hands balled into fists against him, and her lungs burned.
Only then did he finally pull back.
And the next second—
Smack.
Her palm struck across his face, sharp and brutal. The sound cracked through the silence of the apartment like lightning.