Black Rose In The Rain Novel by Felicia. D _ Novel




Black Rose In The Rain Chapter 01

Cassandra Marsh—known as the "Black Rose"—was rescued by Wendell Hess from the underbelly of Mexico's black markets.
For her, he dismantled the black-market syndicates single-handedly and hunted every man who had ever humiliated her, ensuring that the hands that defiled her served only as a feast for hounds.
Once, a smuggler whistled at her. For that alone, he slaughtered the entire smuggling operation, staining the river crimson with their blood.
At the height of his power, he withdrew into the shadows—all to give her a fresh start and peace of mind.
Everyone said Cassandra was lucky.
Wendell was fiercely devoted to her, cutting down every obstacle in their path and protecting her with everything he had.
Their wedding six months ago, which shook the nation, was his declaration to the world.
That night, as fireworks lit up half the country's sky, Wendell held Cassandra's hand and said, "From now on, you will be bathed in happiness and my love."
Cassandra believed him.
Then, one rainy night, the news reached her—Wendell had set Ignacio Mariscal Street ablaze, all for Candace Pierson.
Candace was Arthur Pierson's younger sister.
Arthur was Wendell's right hand, the man he trusted most. He followed Wendell everywhere and, in the end, died shielding him, his body riddled with bullets.
With his last breath, he entrusted Candace to Wendell.
Ignacio Mariscal Street was the one unsullied stretch in Wendell's empire—a place he had promised Cassandra they would disappear to once his operations were fully legitimate.
Holding a black umbrella, Cassandra stepped onto Ignacio Mariscal Street. The air reeked of smoke and burnt debris. Men lay sprawled across the pavement.
She instantly saw Wendell standing amid the mess.
He held Candace tightly in his arms. Her white dress was stained with blood and mud, but not a trace of disgust showed on his face.
He held a gun in his other hand, the muzzle still smoking.
The man at gunpoint knelt on one knee on the ground. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but he kept laughing, his voice ragged.
"Wendell, you just love playing the hero, don't you? Do you even know what kind of woman you're holding? She—"
A gunshot cut him off. He collapsed, motionless.
Without a second glance, Wendell turned toward his car, Candace still in his arms.
He carefully placed her in the back seat and even took off his jacket to drape over her.
In that moment, Cassandra saw the way he looked at Candace. It was all too familiar.
Years ago, Cassandra had been trapped by Wendell's enemy in a water tank inside an abandoned shipyard.
When the water rose past her lips, Wendell forced his way through the iron door, his hands bloody and broken, and clutched her to his chest. Back then, he had gazed at her with the very same devotion that now shone in his eyes for Candace.
Just as Wendell was about to get into the car, he suddenly looked up. Through the rain and drifting smoke, he saw Cassandra under her black umbrella.
Their eyes met.
Eventually, he said nothing. He simply looked away and got into the car.
The engine roared to life. Wheels splashed through puddles, and within seconds, the vehicle vanished into the rainy night.
Cassandra got back into her car and told the driver to follow Wendell.
Wendell's car stopped in front of a standalone villa. Then he stepped out and strode inside, holding Candace.
Cassandra didn't follow. She just sat in the car, watching quietly.
She knew every asset he owned—her name was on each deed.
But this villa? She knew nothing about it.
Just then, her phone lit up with a message from a subordinate.
"Got the details. Some McFarland family underlings caused trouble at the bar. They insulted Candace publicly and trashed the place. Mr. Hess arrived and saw her being pinned to the floor. He lost it, fired the shot, and started the whole thing."
Cassandra lowered her head and lit a cigarette.
She exhaled slowly, her gaze cutting through the hazy smoke to the villa's lit window.
The whole story sounded so familiar.
It took her back to the night she and Wendell first crossed paths—in that filthy underground auction house.
Chained in a cage like an animal, she was drowned in lewd, insulting shouts as her virginity was put up for auction.
Then Wendell burst in, just as he had for Candace tonight.
He fought his way through, pulled her from despair, and said, "Come with me. I promise no one will ever hurt you again."
And now, that same fierce devotion, that same ruthless determination, was focused on another woman.
The cigarette burned down to Cassandra's fingers, and she finally snapped back to reality. She stubbed it out gently.
The light in the villa went dark.
She looked away, her eyes hollow. "Let's go."
Rain lashed the night as the car wound its way toward the mountain lodge outside the city.
Inside the lodge, the hearth fire burned low, casting a faint glow on the framed pledge Cassandra and Wendell had made six months before.
She remembered Wendell cutting his finger and dripping his blood into a glass of wine. "I, Wendell Hess, swear today that I will never betray Cassandra Marsh in this life."
After standing in the middle of the empty lodge for a long while, she stepped forward and began smashing everything—the heavy furniture they had picked out together, the rugs, and finally, the framed pledge.
In the end, she picked up the spare gasoline can in the corner and poured it over the wreckage.
She took a few steps back, stood outside the door, and pulled out her lighter.
A soft click echoed.
With a flick of her wrist, the lighter landed in the gasoline-soaked ruins.
Fierce flames shot upward instantly.
A wave of intense heat washed over her face.
Just then, a pair of warm hands slid from behind her, gently enclosing her cold ones.
"Are you mad?"
Cassandra slowly turned her head and saw Wendell.
"Some men messed with Candace on Ignacio Mariscal Street tonight. I promised Arthur I'd look after her."
He tilted his head to look at her, his gaze calm. "You know I never leave a debt to the dead unpaid."
The flames cast flickering shadows across Cassandra's face.
After his explanation, she gently pulled her hands back.
Her face was lit by the fire, but her voice was bone-chillingly cold. "So you burned down Ignacio Mariscal Street for her."
After a moment of silence, Wendell said, "Cassie, I'll handle the Ignacio Mariscal Street mess. Can you try not to be so willful?"
"Willful?" Cassandra smiled, though her eyes remained cold. "Wendell, you seem to have forgotten where I came from. I'm not just willful. I'm also petty and vindictive."
She took a small step forward and looked up at him. "You'd better hide Candace well. Don't let me catch you with her again."
Wendell's gaze darkened slightly as he reached for her hand.
But she had already stepped back.
"Or I'll kill her," she said, her tone unnervingly flat.

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