Chapter 8 - THE DINNER OF LIES AND LOADED GUNS
Two hours later, the estate was secured, but the silence between us was heavier than gunfire.
Dante sat at the head of the long dining table.
Crystal chandeliers cast cold light over untouched plates of food.
I stood at the opposite end, my hands gripping the mahogany edge.
“Talk,” I demanded.
Dante poured a glass of scotch, his hand steady despite the wounds bandaged beneath his shirt.
“Twenty years ago, my father ran this city with Marco Vitelli,” Dante began quietly.
“Your mother was my father’s personal accountant.”
“She discovered they were laundering cartel money through the shipping docks.”
“She tried to run with the ledger and you.”
“My father ordered her killed.”
Dante looked up, meeting my tear-filled gaze squarely.
“I was ten years old, Emma.”
“I found out what my father did.”
“That’s why I killed him five years later and took his place.”
The revelation hung in the air like poison gas.
“You didn't kill my mother,” I whispered, the pieces finally clicking together.
“No,” Dante said softly.
“Marco Vitelli hunted her down after she escaped my father.”
“And when your mother died two years ago in that hit-and-run...”
Dante paused, his eyes dark with suppressed fury.
“It wasn't an accident, Emma.”
“It was Marco.”
Before I could process the brutal truth, the dining room windows shattered inward.
May you like
Automatic gunfire shredded the velvet drapes.
“Get down!” Dante roared, tackling me to the floor as glass rained down like diamonds.
