3: The Little Girl Refuses to Answer His Call 

Cassandra wore a white silk blouse with a delicate black bow at the neckline, paired with a black skirt that fell modestly below her knees. It was the kind of attire her family demanded she wear upon her return—reserved, proper, and unassuming. 

After stepping off the plane, she climbed into the family car, driven by their chauffeur. Her anxiety mounted as the car drew closer to home. For days, Cassandra had been waking in the middle of the night, haunted by nightmares. 

The thought of her family discovering what had happened terrified her. Worse yet, she couldn’t even begin to fathom how she would explain it to her fiancé. 

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. At her young age, Cassandra had never faced a crisis of this magnitude. The pressure weighed heavily on her, leaving her unsure of how to proceed. 

As the car pulled into the Bell Family estate, Cassandra’s heart grew heavier. This wasn’t a home to her—it was a prison disguised as a mansion. She longed to escape, but running away would only make her mother’s life more unbearable. 

---

The car came to a stop in front of a grand European-style villa surrounded by a lush garden in full bloom. 

Grace, Cassandra’s mother, was in the garden, watering flowers. Hearing the car door, she looked up and smiled warmly. “My little darling is back,” she said, setting down the watering can. 

Cassandra hurried to her mother’s side, throwing herself into her arms like a child. Her lips quivered as she whispered, “Mom, I’m never going abroad again.” 

Grace gently stroked her daughter’s hair. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you enjoy your trip? I’ve already placed the piano competition certificate in your desk drawer. Just show it to your father when he gets home.” 

Grace had known all along that Cassandra wasn’t attending any competition abroad—it was just an excuse to get away. To cover for her daughter, she had prepared a forged certificate in advance. 

Cassandra felt a twinge of guilt. She had debated telling her mother the truth but ultimately decided against it. Grace already had enough to deal with. 

“You’re the best, Mom,” Cassandra said, forcing a smile as she reluctantly let go of her mother’s embrace. 

---

Grace took Cassandra by the hand and led her inside, where her grandmother Rachel and her maternal grandmother Cecilia were having afternoon tea. 

Rachel, despite being in her sixties, looked remarkably youthful, a result of diligent self-care. Cecilia, in her seventies, had a sharp tongue and a tendency to echo Rachel’s criticisms. 

“Grandma, Grandmother,” Cassandra greeted them politely. 

Rachel cast a critical eye over Cassandra’s outfit. “When you’re out representing the Bell Family, you’re expected to look the part. Why are you dressed like an office clerk?” 

Cecilia chimed in immediately, her voice sharp. “And straighten your back! You’re at home, not sneaking around like a thief. Where’s your poise?” 

Cassandra lowered her gaze, her long lashes fluttering. She was used to this treatment. Whenever the two women were together, they always found something to criticize. 

Her grandmother had resented her and her mother for years. After giving birth to Cassandra, Grace had been unable to have more children, depriving the Bell Family of a male heir. This had made life unbearable for both mother and daughter. 

---

Grace spoke up, her voice gentle and measured. “Mom, she just got back. Let her rest for a bit before anything else.” 

Cecilia shot her daughter a withering glare. “If you don’t raise her properly now, it’ll be her who suffers later.” 

Rachel, exuding impatience, glanced at Cassandra. “Go upstairs and change into something more appropriate. I’ll have your etiquette teacher come by later.” 

“Thank you, Grandma,” Cassandra replied politely, hiding her frustration. She had learned long ago that resistance only made things worse, especially for her mother. 

As a child, she had often defied her grandmother, only to witness her mother kneeling in apology. From that day on, Cassandra resolved to endure silently, no matter the provocation. 

---

Once upstairs, Cassandra threw herself onto her bed, kicking off her shoes. “Mom, what’s Grandma’s problem this time?” 

Grace sighed, selecting a modest dress from the wardrobe. “Your uncle needs five million for his business, and your father refused. That’s why your grandmother is upset.” 

Cassandra scoffed. “Mom, we shouldn’t get involved. Grandma’s just taking it out on us because Uncle can’t manage his own affairs.” 

“If we don’t help, your grandmother will just stay here indefinitely. Things will only get harder for us,” Grace replied softly, laying the dress on the bed. 

Cassandra wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. “Mom, let her punish me instead. I can handle it.” 

“But I can’t bear to see you suffer,” Grace whispered, gently patting Cassandra’s shoulder. “Now, get changed. We need to go downstairs and make that flower jam.” 

---

Later, Cassandra endured an hours-long etiquette lesson under the scrutiny of Rachel and Cecilia. Every minor mistake was met with sharp criticism, leaving her drained and on the verge of tears. 

---

Meanwhile, at a luxurious hotel suite, Lorenzo sat on a sleek Italian sofa, a cigar in hand. His nephew Nicholas lounged on the armrest, pestering him about an event. 

“Uncle, I need you to attend tomorrow night’s banquet. I’ve got other plans,” Nicholas said, puffing on a cigarette. 

Lorenzo wasn’t fond of banquets, especially given the heightened surveillance he faced in Valmont Empire. His status made him a constant target of scrutiny. 

“Uncle, it wouldn’t be gentlemanly to keep the ladies waiting,” Nicholas teased, though his demeanor was anything but gentlemanly. 

Lorenzo waved him off. “Get out.” 

Before leaving, Nicholas placed an invitation on the coffee table. “Tomorrow at eight, The Grand Royale Hotel. Don’t forget.” 

---

After Nicholas left, one of Lorenzo’s men handed him a file. “We’ve identified the girl from the woods. Cassandra Bell, daughter of Charles Bell. Her family business is based in timber, and they’re looking to expand internationally.” 

Lorenzo took a long drag of his cigar as he flipped through the file. The photo of Cassandra showed her smiling radiantly, her eyes bright and pure. 

Fate had a cruel sense of humor. She was Nicholas’s fiancée. 

---

Lorenzo’s phone buzzed with Cassandra’s contact information. Saving the number, he hesitated for a moment before naming it Little Girl. 

When Lorenzo called, Cassandra glanced at the unknown number and promptly declined. She assumed it was spam. 

Moments later, a text message arrived: Call me back. 

Puzzled, she replied: Who is this? 

---

Lorenzo, now lounging in a bathrobe, smirked at her cautious response. Without hesitation, he hit redial. 

The little girl was wary, yes, but Lorenzo wasn’t about to let her slip through his fingers. After all, she had a knack for wandering into danger—and into his life.