Chapter 1: The Shadow of the Moretti Estate
Dante walked to the bedside table and placed his glass down.
“What he means,” he said, looking directly at me, “is that from this moment forward, nobody will touch you without answering to me.””
I stared at him.
“That isn't an answer.””
A faint smile touched one corner of his mouth.
“You're recovering from surgery, Elena. Perhaps we should save the arguments for tomorrow.””
“Absolutely not.”” I tried to push myself higher against the pillows, immediately regretting it when pain shot through my shoulder.
“Your son just told me I'm part of your family. I would like to know whether that's something you told him or something you decided without asking me.””
Matteo looked between us, his little fingers tightening around his toy car.
“Papa,” he whispered, “is she angry?””
Dante's expression softened.
“No, piccolo. She's frightened.””
“I'm not frightened,” I protested.
Dante raised an eyebrow.
I hated that he could read me so easily.
Matteo climbed closer, carefully placing his little car beside my hand.
“You can stay,” he said.
“My room has dinosaurs. I can share.””
Something inside my chest cracked.
I had spent most of my adult life being careful not to need anyone. Need was dangerous. Need made people believe they could disappoint you, abandon you, or use your weakness against you.
And yet this little boy was offering me his dinosaurs as if they were the greatest treasure in the world.
“That's very generous,” I whispered.
Dante looked at his son.
“Give Elena some time to rest.””
“But I want to stay with her.””
“You can visit tomorrow.””
Matteo's lower lip trembled.
Dante crouched beside the bed, bringing himself level with the boy.
“Remember what we discussed?””
Matteo nodded reluctantly.
“Then give her a kiss goodnight.””
The boy leaned forward and carefully kissed my uninjured hand.
“Goodnight, Elena.””
“Goodnight, sweetheart.””
When Dante escorted him out, I noticed something strange.
The moment the door opened, two men in dark suits straightened in the hallway. One had a small earpiece. The other rested his hand near the inside of his jacket.
They weren't ordinary security guards.
And judging by the way they moved when Dante approached, they weren't people accustomed to being questioned.
The door closed.
I turned toward him.
“Who are you, really?””
Dante didn't answer immediately.
He removed his cuff links and placed them beside his watch.
“I'm a businessman.””
I laughed, then winced.
“Right. And I'm the Queen of England.””
His eyes narrowed with amusement.
“An interesting comparison.””
“Mr. Moretti, I've spent enough nights working in restaurants to recognize the difference between a wealthy businessman and someone whose employees look like they could dismantle a military operation before breakfast.””
He pulled a chair closer.
“Then perhaps you should stop asking questions you aren't prepared to have answered.””
“That's convenient.””
“It's also a warning.””
The room suddenly felt smaller.
I looked at the expensive furniture, the enormous windows, the thick curtains, and the security panel beside the door.
“Am I a prisoner?””
Dante's expression changed.
“No.””
“Then can I leave?””
“Not tonight.””
“Why?””
“Because you have forty-two pieces of glass removed from your back, three stitches in your shoulder, and a doctor who threatened to sedate me if I allowed you to move without supervision.””
I blinked.
“Your doctor threatened you?””
“He's a brave man.””
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Dante leaned back.
“Tomorrow, we'll discuss your situation.””
“My situation?””
“Your apartment has been compromised.””
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?””
“Someone entered it while you were unconscious.””
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
“My apartment?””
“Yes.””
“Did they steal something?””
“Apparently, they weren't interested in your television or jewelry.””
I swallowed.
“What were they looking for?””
Dante's jaw tightened.
“We don't know yet.””
I stared at him.
“Who would break into my apartment?””
“That's what my men are trying to establish.””
I pulled the blanket closer.
“I don't understand. I work in a restaurant. I pay rent late sometimes.
I have an embarrassing collection of unpaid parking tickets. I'm not exactly an international security threat.””
“People don't always become targets because of what they have, Elena.””
His voice had lost its teasing edge.
“Sometimes they become targets because of who they stand beside.””
The words settled heavily between us.
I remembered the restaurant.
The glittering chandelier.
The sudden crash.
Matteo standing beneath the enormous crystal fixture, his small face turned toward the falling glass.
I remembered throwing myself forward.
Then pain.
Then darkness.
“Was the chandelier an accident?”” I whispered.
Dante didn't move.
“That's what I intend to find out.””
A knock interrupted us.
“Enter,” Dante said.
A tall man with silver at his temples stepped inside, carrying a black folder.
“Boss.””
Dante's expression hardened.
“Not now, Vittorio.””
“I'm afraid it can't wait.””
The man glanced at me, then lowered his voice.
“There's been another development.””
Dante stood.
“Speak.””
Vittorio opened the folder and handed him a photograph.
I couldn't see the image, but I watched Dante's face.
His expression became completely still.
“What is it?”” I asked.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.””
“That answer is getting old.””
He looked at Vittorio.
“Leave us.””
Vittorio hesitated.
“Boss, the message was very specific.””
Dante's eyes turned cold.
“I said leave.””
The older man placed a small envelope on the table before disappearing.
Dante opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
This time, I could see it.
It showed me standing outside Aurelios two nights earlier, wearing my old gray coat and carrying a paper bag of leftover bread.
Someone had written three words across the bottom.
*SHE WAS NEVER RANDOM.*
My blood ran cold.
“What does that mean?””
Dante folded the photograph.
“Nothing.””
“Don't lie to me.””
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he walked toward the window.
“Your father,” he said quietly, “wasn't the man you believe he was.””
My mouth went dry.
“My father died?””
“No.””
I felt the room tilt.
“Then what are you talking about?””
Dante turned.
“Your father didn't simply walk out on your family, Elena.””
He paused.
“He disappeared because he stole something from my family twenty-six years ago.””
And suddenly, the man sitting beside my bed wasn't merely the wealthy stranger whose son I had saved.
May you like
He was the man who knew the secret behind the greatest wound of my childhood.
And he had just told me my father was alive.
