Chapter 14 - Elena’s Grave
Dante refused.
Isabella wanted Sophia at the cemetery.
Sophia would remain home.
For once, Sophia did not fight him.
She saw the photograph and began trembling.
Clara sat beside her.
“You don’t have to go anywhere.”
Sophia nodded.
Dante contacted federal agents.
The cemetery was surrounded quietly.
No uniforms.
No obvious vehicles.
Dante insisted on going himself.
Clara insisted on coming.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You know how this goes.”
Dante stared.
“You are infuriating.”
“So I’ve heard.”
They arrived just before sunset.
Elena’s grave stood beneath an old maple tree.
The chocolate heart remained on the stone.
Dante approached.
Clara stayed several steps behind.
“Mother.”
No answer.
Dante looked around.
“I know you’re here.”
A woman stepped from behind the mausoleum.
Isabella.
No weapon visible.
Dante did not relax.
“You came.”
“You knew I would.”
“Where is Sophia?”
“Safe.”
Isabella smiled.
“You finally learned.”
Dante looked at his mother.
Not as a son.
As a stranger.
“Why Elena?”
Isabella sighed.
“Still?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“She was going to destroy everything.”
“She wanted me out.”
“She wanted you weak.”
“She wanted me alive.”
Isabella’s expression sharpened.
“I built what your father was too sentimental to protect.”
“You killed Michael.”
“No.”
“He was alive for nineteen years.”
“I kept him alive.”
“In a locked room.”
“He betrayed us.”
“He disagreed with you.”
“Same thing.”
Dante shook his head.
“No.”
Isabella studied him.
“You really have changed.”
“Yes.”
“The waitress?”
“No.”
He looked at Elena’s grave.
“My wife started it.”
Clara felt something tighten in her chest.
“My daughter finished it.”
Isabella’s face became cold.
“You would destroy your bloodline.”
Dante looked directly at her.
“I’m saving it.”
A movement behind Clara.
She turned.
Aaron Pike.
Impossible.
He should have been in federal custody.
Then she realized.
Not Pike.
Another man.
Same build.
Gun raised.
Dante saw him.
“Clara!”
The man fired.
Clara dropped.
Agents surged from both sides.
Chaos.
Isabella ran.
Dante chased her through the cemetery.
She reached the road.
A car waited.
Julian stepped out.
Dante stopped.
Isabella did too.
Her face changed.
“You.”
Julian stood beside the open driver’s door.
He had been released temporarily into federal custody to help locate her.
A tracking device visible at his ankle.
He looked at Isabella.
“Hello, Mother.”
She stared.
Julian had called her that for most of his life.
His own mother died when he was young.
Isabella raised him.
Used him.
Shaped him.
Julian closed the car door.
“You’re not leaving.”
“You owe me everything.”
“I know.”
“I made you.”
Julian nodded.
“That was the problem.”
Isabella reached into her coat.
Dante shouted.
Julian did not move.
Federal agents surrounded her.
Guns aimed.
“Hands!”
Isabella looked around.
No exit.
For the first time, fear appeared.
Not fear of prison.
Fear of losing control.
She pulled the pistol.
Dante spoke.
“Mother.”
She looked at him.
“Don’t.”
Isabella’s hand trembled.
Dante continued.
“You always told me fear was weakness.”
Her eyes filled with rage.
“You don’t get to quote me.”
“Put it down.”
“You chose them.”
“Yes.”
“Over me.”
“Yes.”
The answer broke something.
Isabella lowered the gun.
Agents moved.
She was cuffed.
This time, there would be no private convoy.
No corrupted officers.
No disappearing.
Dante watched his mother being placed into an armored federal vehicle.
Julian stood nearby.
“You okay?” Dante asked.
Julian laughed sadly.
“Are either of us?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
Dante nodded.
Clara approached.
“You’re bleeding.”
Dante touched his forehead.
A small cut.
“Again?”
“You seem attracted to bullets.”
“I prefer waitresses.”
Clara stared at him.
Julian looked away.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Despite everything, Clara laughed.
Dante did too.
Then his phone rang.
Michael.
Dante answered.
His expression shifted.
“What?”
Clara stopped smiling.
Dante listened.
Then looked at her.
“Sophia’s gone.”
Clara’s blood turned cold.
“What do you mean gone?”
Michael came through the speaker.
“She walked out ten minutes ago.”
“Guards?”
“They thought she was in the garden.”
Dante’s face drained.
Clara grabbed his arm.
“Isabella was here. She couldn’t have taken her.”
Dante looked toward Elena’s grave.
Then Clara noticed something.
The chocolate heart.
Underneath it.
A folded piece of paper.
She opened it.
Sophia’s handwriting.
DADDY, I KNOW WHERE MOM LEFT THE LAST THING.
Dante stared.
“What last thing?”
On the back was an address.
An old train station outside the city.
They drove there.
The station had been abandoned for years.
One light burned inside.
Dante reached the entrance.
Clara beside him.
The door was already open.
From somewhere inside came Sophia’s voice.
“Daddy?”
Dante stepped forward.
Then another voice answered her from the darkness.
May you like
A woman’s voice.
Elena’s voice.
