The Volkov estate was beginning to feel less like a home and more like a cage.
A gilded one—laced with silk curtains and imported roses—but a cage all the same.
And in it, the players were moving.
Cassandra had made the first real strike.
The footage. The flash drive. The warning to Dante.
Now she waited for the consequences to ripple.
But what she didn’t know was that another ripple had already started…
Three Days Later – Volkov Grand Ballroom – Charity Gala Night
Cassandra adjusted the high slit of her black gown, diamonds glittering like cold stars around her throat. Her hair was swept up into a clean chignon, her lips blood-red, and her aura unbothered.
She stood on Dante’s arm as photographers captured them, guests fawned over them, and enemies pretended to be friends.
Anika arrived ten minutes later. She wore white.
Of course, she did.
Sweet, soft, smiling like a holy angel descending from golden clouds. Her dress was modest but clingy in the right places. Her hair framed her face like a halo. She looked like a Disney princess in the middle of a mafia gathering.
Except her eyes were watching everything.
Especially Dante.
And he—wasn’t watching her.
He was watching Cassandra.
The entire evening became a performance. A ballet of subtle glances, forced smiles, and tense laughter.
Mikhail whispered into Dante’s ear at one point, and Cassandra could tell by the twitch in her husband’s jaw that the news wasn’t good.
Later – Private Lounge of the Ballroom
Dante leaned against the bar, sipping dark liquor. Cassandra approached him quietly.
“She’s planning something,” she said.
“So are you,” he replied.
She didn’t deny it.
Dante set his glass down. “The vault code she used was mine. She stole it.”
Cassandra blinked. “How?”
He looked up at her. “She’s not Anika.”
“What?”
He lowered his voice. “Her mannerisms have changed. Her vocabulary. She writes with her right hand now. Anika was left-handed.”
Cassandra’s blood ran cold.
“She’s not the same girl.”
He looked at her with something she hadn’t seen before. Fear.
“If she’s not Anika…” Cassandra murmured, “…then who the hell is she?”
Meanwhile – Anika’s Bedroom
Anika—no, Elina—sat cross-legged on the Persian rug, flipping through an old book she’d found in the estate’s archives. The paper was yellowed, the ink faded, but she could make out enough.
A family ledger. Genealogy records. Inheritance clauses.
And most importantly: the Volkov heirline contracts.
She had discovered something… lethal.
If Dante dies without a living heir, the family’s entire fortune reverts not to his father… but to his stepmother.
Her name was Elvira Volkov, and Elina hated that woman more than she’d hated her former landlord.
“Interesting,” Elina whispered. “So all I have to do… is give birth before Dante dies.”
Or maybe… get him to hand over the fortune willingly.
But first—she needed him to fall again.
Hard. Blind. Obsessive.
The Next Morning – Dante’s Study
Cassandra stepped inside the study and found Dante staring out the window. A storm brewed outside—thunder rolling like distant gunfire.
“You know,” she said, “if she’s not Anika… she doesn’t deserve your protection.”
He turned slowly. “And what do you deserve, Cassandra?”
“I deserve the truth.”
He crossed the room and stopped a breath away. “Then let’s speak truth.”
He cupped her jaw.
“You’re not innocent. You’re not sweet. You’ve lied. Manipulated. Played the villain.”
Her pulse fluttered, but she held his gaze.
“And you loved it.”
She swallowed. “I survived.”
“Same thing.”
And then—he kissed her.
This time, it was not a possession. It was a claim.
Later – West Wing Corridor
Anika watched them from behind a marble pillar.
Her eyes were blank. Her heart was ice.
So, Cassandra had gotten to him again.
Fine.
She would just have to make him hers again. Even if she had to burn this entire estate down to do it.
Two Days Later – Poison in the Garden
Cassandra began to feel… strange.
Dizzy spells. Fatigue. Random nausea. Her hands trembled while brushing her hair. One morning she woke up with blood on her pillow and no memory of how she bit her lip that hard.
She kept it quiet at first. Maybe stress. Maybe nerves.
But then she collapsed.
In the greenhouse.
Dante found her slumped over a bench, her skin clammy, her breath shallow.
“Get the doctor—NOW!”
That Evening – Cassandra’s Bedroom
Cassandra woke up to soft candlelight and the scent of clean linen.
Dante sat beside her. Face hard. Eyes hollow.
“What happened?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he lifted a vial from the bedside table and held it up. Inside was a yellowish substance.
“Poison,” he said flatly. “Administered slowly. Dosed in tea.”
She blinked. “What…?”
“Who gave you tea every day this week?”
Silence.
And then—Anika.
Dante stood. “She tried to kill you.”
Cassandra shook her head. “No. That’s not her style.”
“She’s not your sister,” he growled. “You said it yourself—she’s changed. Maybe she’s been someone else all along.”
And Cassandra knew…
This war wasn’t between sisters anymore.
It was between Cassandra—the devil’s wife, and a stranger wearing her sister’s face.
📝 Author’s Note – Chapter Six
Things just got dark.
Cassandra is poisoned.
Dante is suspicious.
Anika is unraveling.
And the estate? It’s a time bomb waiting to explode.
Who do you think will win this twisted battle?
Comment 👇 with who you’re rooting for:
🔥 Cassandra
😈 Anika (a.k.a. Elina)
🖤 Or someone else entirely?
Click the star button below 👇❤
Next chapter—someone vanishes.
— alexandr44ite
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The Devil's Favorite Villainess
RomanceI transmigrated into the villainess-the unwanted sister, the scheming witch, the one meant to be discarded. She was supposed to get the fairytale ending. I was supposed to die trying to steal it. But I made one small change: I seduced the devil hims...
