Sinful Obsession: Chapter 5

The one-eyed man stood too close, his smirk dripping with malice.

“Where did you find her, Cassian?” He asked, his voice low, taunting.

“None of your business, Luca,” Cassian snapped, his tone a warning shot.

I froze. Still seated. Still processing.

Luca’s attention shifted to me. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Before I could speak, another man emerged.

My blood turned to ice.

My father.

I hadn’t seen his face since—

No. I didn’t remember. But my body reacted before my brain could catch up. My stomach twisted with revulsion, with fury. I wanted to claw the smug grin off his face.

“Charlotte,” he said, faking surprise. “We all thought you were dead. How… how did you make it back?”

Confusion crashed over me, a tidal wave that drowned my thoughts.

Dead? My heart pounded, nausea surging as I gripped the chair for stability.

I stood slowly, my fists clenched at my sides

What did he mean?

“I advise both of you to walk away,” Cassian said darkly, standing taller beside me.

“Or what?” Luca barked a laugh. “You’ll stab me in the other eye, Cassian? Hm? You know what’s at stake now.”

“Mr. Luca.” A new voice broke in—low, cold.

I turned toward the sound. Artem Vasiliev.

“Mr. Grayson,” Artem added, now addressing my father. “That’s no way to welcome our princess.”

Artem walked forward with that same eerie grace, stopping just a few steps from Cassian and me. His presence demanded silence.

Cassian stepped in front of me, his body a protective shield.

“Cassian,” Artem continued, voice calm but carrying the weight of a blade. “It’s good to see you again. But, as I advised young Vincent, wouldn’t it be wise to step aside from the leadership trials? Everyone knows I’m the strongest candidate. Neither you nor little Vincent stand a chance.”

His tone was polite. But the arrogance in it scraped down my spine.

Cassian’s grip tightened on my hand. “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen.”

The three men—Father, Luca, and Artem—blocked our path, their presence a wall of menace. “Come on, Cassian,” Artem said, his tone almost playful, “you can’t just walk away.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed.

“Cassian, your hands are tied. Grayson is her father. It’s only right you deliver her to him for a… reunion.” Luca’s single eye glinted.

They spoke of me as if I were an object, a pawn to be traded.

White-hot anger surged through me.

“Don’t start a war with me,” Cassian warned, his grip on my hand tightening.

“A war you can’t afford,” Artem replied, his gaze flicking briefly to me. “Not with her back.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Cassian growled. “You all know what I’m capable of. Just because my hands are tied doesn’t mean I can’t fight.”

He pointed a shaking, furious finger at the three men. “She betrayed me. Not you. Not you. And definitely not you. She’s mine to deal with—mine to punish as I see fit. Touch even a strand of her hair, and you’ll be dead before the sun rises.”

Laughter echoed in response. Then my father’s voice cut through it.

“Even after catching her cheating—with another man—you still dare to shamelessly call her yours?”

My stomach dropped.

What?

“That’s right,” Artem added, voice laced with smug satisfaction. “She isn’t yours anymore. Look at her finger.”

Cassian turned to me. I tried to hide my hand too late.

“See that ring?” Artem sneered. “Her captor didn’t just cage her—he married her. Legally. Claimed her, right under your nose. While you were rotting in prison.”

Prison? What the fuck?

My chest heaved. It felt like the floor shifted beneath me.

Cassian had been in prison? When? Why? My mind reeled, the fog of those missing years thicker than ever.

“I don’t care who’s touched her,” Cassian said, voice low and sharp. “Or who thinks a piece of paper makes her theirs. Charlotte is mine. What she’s done, what they did to her—it changes nothing. She was mine then. She’s mine now.”

Luca stepped closer, his smirk widening. “You still don’t get it, Cassian? We have the divorce papers—yours and hers, signed three years ago. You have no claim to her now.”

Divorce?

I stumbled back, dizzy.

The ring on my finger wasn’t Cassian’s? Another man—a captor—had married me, forced me into a bond I couldn’t recall?

They thought I was dead? The revelations piled like stones, crushing me. I wanted to scream, to demand answers, but my voice was trapped, my body shaking with panic.

My past was a black hole, and these men kept shoveling in twisted truths.

My father smirked again. “You’ll hand her over, Cassian. She’s a Grayson. She belongs with us.”

“I’m not a fucking pawn,” I whispered.

None of them listened.

Cassian’s voice was lethal now. “Touch her—and I will start that war.”

Artem tilted his head. “Then I suggest you start preparing for it. Because the moment she walked back into this world… everything changed.”

The air crackled with tension, the three men staring Cassian down..

My mind was a battlefield.

Who was this captor?

Why had I been thought dead?

Why was Cassian so determined to claim me, despite a divorce, despite a betrayal he believed I’d committed?

I almost wanted to rip my hair out—just to see if pain could jolt my memories back. If tearing at my scalp might shake something loose. A name. A date.

But all I had was the pounding in my skull and the four men circling me like wolves.

“Charlotte,” my father said gently, stepping forward with a face I didn’t recognize but a voice I couldn’t forget. “I know you’re traumatized. I know you’re scared. But please… come home. Cassian will destroy you.”

“You’re right,” I said quietly, staring at them all one by one. “Cassian will destroy me. But I’d still rather be with him than stay with any of you.”

The words settled like broken glass in the silence, cutting through the pretense of family

The three men exchanged a look—one of calculation, not concern. Artem took a step forward as if to touch me, but Cassian was faster. He placed a firm, possessive hand on my lower back and shifted slightly, blocking his path.

Artem didn’t flinch.

“I’m Artem Vasiliev,” he said, lifting his chin like a king presenting terms. “Heir to the Russian Bratva in New York. Your father is one of the most powerful mafia bosses in the East. And Luca here—” he gestured toward the one-eyed devil standing like a statue “—he will inherit the entire Moretti empire as soon as we remove Cassian from power.”

He paused. “Which we will. Before December, Cassian will be nothing. You are better off on our side.”

“No, thank you,” I said flatly, refusing to be bartered between men like a trinket.

Cassian’s jaw twitched. I saw his hands curl into fists, then slowly relax. Over and over. Like he was holding back the urge to maim all three of them right there. And I could tell—it took everything in him not to act. Something was at stake, something bigger than bloodlust.

What the hell was it?

Artem leaned toward Luca and whispered something. Luca took a beat, thinking, before turning to whisper into my father’s ear. Whatever they said made the older man smile.

Then my father spoke—his voice was more venomous than warmth. “Even if you walk out of here with her now, Cassian… it won’t last. We will take her back from you. Sooner than you think.

My father took a step forward. “And when we do, we’ll do things to her that even your twisted imagination couldn’t conjure.”

A cold dread slid down my spine. I wanted to move closer to Cassian, but my feet wouldn’t budge.

“You have two choices: Let her come with her real family, so we can help her recover. Heal from the mess you dragged her into. Or hold on to her—the same woman who betrayed you. The same woman who got your sister killed. The one who left you to rot in prison.”

Elodie was Cassian’s sister? The accusation hit like a bullet, shattering my composure.

Luca’s voice sliced in. “We’ll rip her from your arms eventually, you know this, Cassian. If not us… then the man who kidnapped and married her while you were rotting in a cell will.”

My heart stopped.

Cassian didn’t flinch.

Luca’s words dripped like acid. “Why, Cassian? Why the fuck are you still holding on to her?”

He threw a hand toward me like I was filth. “After everything she’s done to you?

I didn’t even know who I was anymore. But the tension in Cassian’s body made me nervous.

Cassian slowly looked down at his watch, then back at them. His voice was calm, but steel-cut.

“This,” he said softly, “is exactly how much of your nonsense I can entertain. Unless you want this place to become a bloodbath, step back—all of you.”

The three men exchanged knowing glances, their smirks fading, and stepped back, yielding to his threat.

Cassian’s hand closed around mine, his grip bruising but protective as he pulled me into him—guiding me through the crowd like I belonged to no one else..

Their eyes followed, sharp and hungry, as we moved toward the exit, the penthouse’s opulence closing in like a gilded cage.

“I don’t remember any of it,” I blurted, struggling to breathe as we exited the building.

“That much is obvious,” he muttered, unlocking the bike parked outside.

When we both straddled the seat, I clutched his jacket and whispered, “Can you take me to a doctor? Please… I need to know what’s wrong with me.”

He didn’t answer, straddling the bike and starting the engine with a roar.

I climbed on, my arms wrapping around his waist instinctively—the heat of his body igniting that familiar, conflicting pull.

He didn’t speak, just drove, eventually steering us into the underground garage of a private hospital.

We entered through a side entrance, and soon we were in a white, sterile office. The doctor, a tall man in his forties with sharp eyes and expensive taste, stood up the moment we entered.

“Mr. Moretti,” he nodded. “And Miss…”

“Moretti,” Cassian cut in coldly, his hand tightening around my waist as we sat. He said it like it was law—like our divorce never happened. Like I still belonged to him.

“She was in an accident. Severe amnesia.”

The doctor leaned in, eyes scanning me carefully. He was professional, but I saw something in his gaze. Sympathy, maybe. Or dread.

I said quietly, “I remember most of my past… but the last three years are just gone. It’s like someone cut them out with a scalpel. I need to know what’s wrong with me—and how to get them back.”

The doctor gave a measured nod, his eyes scanning the chart before meeting mine. “Memory loss of this nature could be due to several causes—traumatic brain injury, severe psychological trauma, or even dissociative amnesia triggered by extreme stress.”

“Given the specificity of the timeframe, dissociative amnesia is likely, often linked to a significant event your mind has suppressed to protect you.”

He leaned forward, his voice steady. “We’ll need to run tests—an MRI to rule out physical damage, and a psychological evaluation to assess trauma. In the meantime, therapy, such as cognitive behavioral therapy or EMDR, can help unlock suppressed memories.”

“Journaling, revisiting familiar places, or talking with people from your past may also trigger recall, but it must be done carefully to avoid overwhelming you.”

He asked me more questions—simple ones, things I should’ve known without thinking. But my mind stayed blank. Every answer felt like grasping smoke.

Cassian sat beside me the entire time, never more than a breath away. Every time I trembled, his hand steadied me. Every time my voice wavered, his presence wrapped around me like armor.

“We’ll run scans, but trauma-induced memory loss is unpredictable.” The doctor finally said.

“Start whatever needs to be started,” Cassian said.

The doctor nodded solemnly. “But you need to understand—there’s a chance she may never recover all of her memories.”

Cassian’s response was instant and ice-cold. “That’s not an option,” he said. “She will remember. Every second. Or you’ll be looking for another job.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I stared at him, my pulse roaring in my ears.

We left the office, his hand on my lower back, guiding me back to the bike. The ride home was silent.

Back home, Cassian had been unusually quiet. Like he was holding in more than words.

His gaze settled on me like a weight. “You need to be careful, Charlotte,” he said, voice controlled.

“There are people who would use your memory loss against you. Luca—my brother—is no longer just blood, he’s a threat. He wants to dismantle what I built. Artem, the new Bratva boss—his father’s barely in the ground, and already he’s circling like a vulture. And your father, Grayson… he’s not above using his own daughter to get what he wants.”

I blinked, unsettled. “So… no one knows I’ve lost my memory?”

He shook his head once. “And they shouldn’t. The moment they find out, they’ll come for you. Twist you. Use you.”

A beat passed in silence.

“I heard… someone mention we were married. But now divorced?”

Cassian’s eyes didn’t flinch. “We’re still married.”

“But—”

“I let them believe we divorced.” His tone was unreadable—too calm.

I couldn’t tell if he was lying. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

My chest tightened. “You hate me. But you still protected me from those men? And you’re still keeping me here?”

“Yes,” he said. His voice was steady, almost gentle. “Because only here can I make you suffer for what you did to me.”

I swallowed hard. “For killing your sister… and betraying you?”

He stared at me for a long, dragging moment.

He moved then, walking to the largest couch and sinking into it like a king reclaiming his throne.

“Don’t bother trying to leave the estate. The guards have orders not to let you step one foot outside.”

My eyes narrowed. “So I’m your prisoner.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Charlotte. You are.”

I nodded slowly, pulse pounding beneath my skin. “I see…”

I finally shifted the conversation, needing distance from the storm behind his eyes.

I stared at him, my heart racing. “What happens,” I asked carefully, “if you don’t win the leadership trials?”

His gaze snapped to mine. “Then I lose everything.”

He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. “My empire. My power. My men. You.”

I flinched. “Me?”

He nodded once. “If I fall, you become a pawn in someone else’s hands. Artem. Luca. Your father. Maybe even your captor. Do you think any of them would protect you the way I do? No. They’ll devour you. Piece by piece.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

“I need the truth,” I said, my voice steady despite the panic. “About Elodie, about my captor, about us. I’ll find it, Cassian, with or without you.”

“Without me,” he said, voice lethal, “you won’t find anything. You’ll only find danger. Lies. And men who want to tear you apart for sport.”

“Then tell me.”

He stood and stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “You’re so desperate to remember,” he said, voice cruelly calm. “But if you knew what you did… or what was done to you…”

His eyes didn’t waver, and neither did the chill behind them.

“You’d beg to forget again. You’d claw at your skull trying to rip the memories out. And you’d realize the dark was the only mercy you ever had.”

I swallowed hard, fighting the panic rising in my chest.

“I need to go back to the House of Devils,” I whispered, my voice resolute, “Please.”

Begging was the only card I had left. “You’re one of the bosses there. If anyone can get me back in, it’s you. And you’re needed. You know that.”

His silence pushed a lump to my throat, but I kept going.

“I need to finish the contest. It’s the only way I can claim what my grandfather left me.”

“It’s not the only way,” Cassian said coolly. “Your grandfather and mine made a pact. As long as we stay married until December of this year… you get everything tied to the Grayson name. Every coin, every ounce of power.”

“Being married to you means you get a share of it,” I said, my voice cutting like glass. “You’d control me. My legacy. Everything my grandfather meant for me.”

He stepped forward and grabbed my jaw, his grip firm but not bruising—yet. “I don’t need a share.”

He tilted my face to his. “You… are enough for me.”

I tried not to flinch. “Easy to say,” I muttered. “But I don’t want you to be part of my win. I want a divorce. Then I’ll go back and finish what I started. Alone.”

Cassian released me, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “What makes you think you’d survive there?” he said mockingly. “Among dozens of burly mafia heirs, you—a slip of a girl pretending to be Charles—would’ve turned to ash in the first trial. The fire ring would’ve consumed you, and yet you want to go back?”

“I’d be safer there,” I shot back, my voice rising, desperation breaking through. “Luca, Artem, my father—they can’t touch me in the underworld. I’d be free, in a way, not your locked-up criminal here.”

He hummed thoughtfully, stepping in until all I could breathe was him.

“Please,” I whispered, placing a hand on his chest without thinking.

He grabbed it and looked down at my ring with a flash of cold fury.

“Take it off.”

I blinked. “Isn’t it your ring?” I asked.

Unless they were right—Luca, Artem, my father—unless we were already divorced. Unless I was kidnapped and married to someone else.

He stared at the ring like he wanted to tear it off with his teeth.

“I tried,” I said quickly. “It won’t come off. It’s… burned into my skin.”

Cassian’s eyes darkened. “Then I’ll bring someone to remove it. Today.”

My heart dropped. “Why?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he said. “Your first torture begins tonight. On my bed.”

Then he turned away, leaving me trembling, swallowed by a wave of fear and disbelief.

My first torture? For sins I can’t even remember?

Frustration exploded inside me.

I sank to my knees, hands trembling, fighting back a breaking scream.