Chapter 4
The safe house occupied the upper floors of an abandoned hotel Dante had secretly purchased through three shell companies years earlier.
Only six people knew it existed.
Arthur had been one of them.
Which meant they could not remain long.
Marco locked the steel door behind them.
Patricia sat silently near the window.
Serena stood across the room, arms folded around herself.
Dante watched her.
Three years.
He wanted answers to three years of questions.
But first he needed to keep her alive.
Marco spread maps across a table.
“We’ve confirmed eleven loyal men.”
“Eleven?”
“Everyone else is either unreachable or waiting to see who wins.”
Dante nodded.
Fear produced loyalty only while power appeared permanent.
Tonight his enemies believed he was finished.
Good.
Men became careless around corpses.
“Vincent?”
Marco answered, “Back at the Romano estate.”
“Arthur?”
“Missing.”
Dante looked toward Patricia.
“You know where Vincent keeps his private records?”
Patricia nodded slowly.
“His study.”
“Access?”
“Biometric.”
“Whose?”
“His and mine.”
Dante leaned forward.
Patricia understood immediately.
“No.”
Serena looked at her mother.
“Mom.”
“No, Serena.”
“Dad tried to kill me.”
Patricia’s face tightened.
“I know.”
“And he’ll try again.”
“I know.”
“Then help us.”
Patricia stared at her daughter.
Something in the older woman finally collapsed.
“For thirty-four years,” she whispered, “I told myself your father did terrible things because terrible things were necessary.”
Serena said nothing.
“I told myself family came first.”
Patricia looked toward Dante.
“Tonight I realized Vincent’s definition of family means everyone belongs to him.”
She stood.
“I’ll help.”
Dante nodded.
Hours later, after plans had been made and Marco had left to contact loyal captains, Dante found Serena alone on the rooftop terrace.
Rain had stopped.
Chicago glittered below.
She hugged herself against the cold.
Dante removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.
Serena looked at him.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
She held the jacket closed.
For several moments neither spoke.
Then Serena whispered, “Ask me.”
“Ask what?”
“The question you’ve been carrying for three years.”
Dante looked at the skyline.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
That answer still affected him.
“Then what?”
“That you’d confront my father.”
“I would have.”
“Exactly.”
She faced him.
“You would have started a war before you knew how deep his betrayal went.”
“So you made me believe you hated me.”
“I thought distance would keep you suspicious.”
“It did.”
“I know.”
“You succeeded.”
Her eyes lowered.
“At the cost of destroying you.”
“And yourself.”
Serena began crying quietly.
“I used to sit outside your study at night.”
Dante turned.
“What?”
“When you worked late. Sometimes I’d sit around the corner where you couldn’t see me.”
“Why?”
“Because it was the closest I could let myself get.”
Dante stared.
“I wanted to walk inside. I wanted to tell you everything.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because every time Dad visited, he questioned me afterward. What you told me. Where you went. Who you trusted.”
She swallowed.
“I realized that if I genuinely knew nothing, I couldn’t betray you even accidentally.”
Dante understood now.
She hadn’t merely denied him affection.
She had denied herself information.
Access.
Intimacy.
Everything her father wanted her to obtain.
“You made yourself useless as a spy.”
“Yes.”
“And miserable as a wife.”
Serena laughed through tears.
“I was very good at both.”
Dante stepped closer.
“Serena.”
She looked up.
“I loved you too.”
Her breath caught.
“Loved?”
He realized his mistake.
“Love.”
She stared at him.
“Present tense?”
“Unfortunately.”
A tearful laugh escaped her.
Dante smiled.
It was strange.
They had been married three years, yet this felt like their first conversation.
Serena whispered, “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“If tonight hadn’t happened, would you really have left?”
“Yes.”
Her smile vanished.
“I would have given you everything you needed to start over.”
“With someone else?”
The question carried pain.
Dante answered carefully.
“If that made you happy.”
Serena shook her head.
“You really are an idiot.”
Dante blinked.
Nobody spoke to him like that.
Serena stepped closer.
“I spent three years trying not to fall more deeply in love with you.”
“That strategy seems inefficient.”
“It was terrible.”
They both laughed softly.
Then Serena’s expression became serious.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me tonight.”
“I don’t.”
She nodded.
“But,” Dante continued, “I understand why you did it.”
“That’s more than I deserve.”
“Don’t decide what you deserve for me.”
Serena stared at him.
Dante raised his hand slowly.
He gave her time to move away.
She didn’t.
His fingers touched her cheek.
Serena closed her eyes.
This time there was no flinch.
No fear.
Only relief.
She leaned toward him.
Their foreheads almost touched.
Then Marco burst onto the terrace.
“Boss.”
Dante stepped back.
Marco held a tablet.
“We found something.”
On the screen was an old surveillance photograph.
Serena.
She looked perhaps nineteen.
Standing beside a young man outside a university building.
Dante frowned.
“Who is he?”
Serena stared.
“Daniel Mercer.”
“Who?”
“A friend from college.”
Marco enlarged the image.
“Arthur had this stored in an encrypted archive.”
Serena looked confused.
“Why?”
Marco swiped to another document.
A death certificate.
Daniel Mercer.
Deceased six years earlier.
Hit-and-run.
Serena covered her mouth.
“I knew he died.”
Dante looked at her.
“You knew him well?”
“He was my closest friend.”
Marco remained silent.
Dante noticed.
“What aren’t you saying?”
Marco placed another document on screen.
A police report.
Witness statements had disappeared.
Evidence had been misplaced.
A detective had suddenly retired.
And one payment had been made three days later.
From a company controlled by Vincent Romano.
Serena stopped breathing.
“No.”
Dante read the report again.
Marco spoke quietly.
“Daniel’s death wasn’t an accident.”
Serena looked at Patricia, who had followed Marco onto the terrace.
Her mother’s expression revealed everything.
Serena whispered, “You knew.”
Patricia began crying.
“Serena—”
“You knew?”
“Your father thought Daniel was distracting you from your responsibilities.”
“My responsibilities?”
“He was afraid you might run away.”
Serena staggered backward.
Dante caught her.
Patricia continued through tears.
“Arthur arranged the cleanup.”
Serena stared at her mother in horror.
Dante finally understood the photograph.
Arthur had kept evidence.
Insurance.
Leverage against Vincent.
Marco’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
His face changed.
“What?”
Marco looked at Dante.
“Arthur just contacted us.”
“Why?”
“He wants a meeting.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Where?”
Marco hesitated.
“The church where you and Serena were married.”
Serena stared at him.
Marco continued.
“And he says if you don’t come alone, he releases everything he has on both families.”
Dante looked at the photograph again.
Arthur had spent decades collecting secrets.
Maybe Daniel Mercer was only the beginning.
May you like
And if Arthur had evidence capable of destroying everyone, then tomorrow night’s meeting wasn’t merely a trap.
It was the opening move of something much larger.
