Chapter 3 - The House Where Everything Began
Mara was already reaching for her coat.
“No.”
Dante blocked the doorway.
“They took Eddie because of me.”
“They took him because they want you.”
“Then I'm going.”
“That is exactly why you aren't.”
Mara stared at him.
“You don't get to decide whose life matters.”
The words landed.
Dante stepped back.
For the first time since she'd known him, he seemed uncertain.
Marco interrupted.
“We have twenty-six minutes.”
Dante made the decision.
“We go together.”
The drive took eighteen minutes.
Mara sat beside Dante in the back of an armored SUV.
Neither spoke.
Finally Dante reached across the seat.
His palm opened between them.
Mara looked at it.
Then placed her hand in his.
“I should have told you,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
She looked at him sharply.
He almost smiled.
“But I should have given you a life where telling me didn't feel dangerous.”
Mara's anger disappeared.
“You can't rewrite who you are.”
“No.”
His fingers closed around hers.
“But I can decide who I become.”
The abandoned Moretti house stood behind iron gates.
Marco's men remained hidden several blocks away.
Dante, Mara, Marco, and Isabella approached alone.
The front door opened.
Vittorio Moretti stood inside.
Silver-haired.
Perfectly dressed.
Smiling.
“My family.”
Dante's face became stone.
“Where is Eddie?”
“Safe.”
“I want to see him.”
Vittorio stepped aside.
Eddie sat tied to a chair.
Alive.
Mara exhaled.
“I'm sorry,” Eddie said.
“This isn't your fault.”
Vittorio laughed.
“She's compassionate. That's what worries me.”
Dante moved closer.
“Let him go.”
“When we're finished.”
Vittorio looked at Isabella.
His smile vanished.
“You always were difficult to kill.”
Isabella's hands shook.
“You murdered Antonio.”
Vittorio shrugged.
“My brother was sentimental.”
Dante went still.
Vittorio had just admitted it.
Marco subtly touched his jacket.
Recording.
Vittorio apparently didn't care.
“You think a recording frightens me?”
Dante said nothing.
“Everything you have exists because I built it.”
“You built it with my father's blood.”
“I built you.”
Vittorio pointed toward Mara.
“And then she ruined twenty years of work.”
Mara stared back.
“I'm a waitress.”
“No.”
Vittorio smiled.
“You're leverage.”
Dante moved between them.
“Look at her again and this conversation ends.”
“See?”
Vittorio laughed.
“The Dante I created wouldn't have cared.”
“The Dante you created was twelve years old.”
Silence.
Dante continued.
“You didn't make me strong. You made a child afraid enough to obey you.”
Vittorio's smile disappeared.
Isabella's eyes filled with tears.
Dante turned toward Eddie.
“Release him.”
Vittorio snapped his fingers.
One guard cut Eddie's restraints.
Too easy.
Dante knew it.
“What do you want?”
“The records.”
“You already searched the house.”
“Your father hid things.”
“And you think my mother knows where.”
Vittorio looked at Isabella.
“She does.”
Isabella shook her head.
“I don't.”
Vittorio sighed.
“Then perhaps Mara can motivate your memory.”
Dante moved instantly.
So did Marco.
Guns appeared.
Mara froze.
“No!”
Dante stopped.
Everyone stopped.
Mara stepped between them.
“If anybody fires, nobody gets what they want.”
Vittorio studied her.
“You really aren't afraid of him.”
“I am.”
Dante looked at her.
Mara continued.
“But fear isn't the same as surrender.”
She turned toward Isabella.
“Where would Antonio hide something?”
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
Isabella looked around.
Her eyes moved across the foyer.
Then stopped at the staircase.
“He used to measure Dante there.”
Dante frowned.
“What?”
“Every birthday.”
They approached the wooden column beside the staircase.
Faded pencil marks remained.
DANTE — 8.
DANTE — 9.
DANTE — 10.
At twelve, the marks stopped.
Mara ran her fingers across the wood.
One section sounded hollow.
Dante removed a decorative panel.
Behind it was a small metal key.
Vittorio stepped forward.
Marco blocked him.
Isabella stared at the key.
“Antonio's study.”
They moved upstairs.
Behind a bookcase, the key opened a hidden compartment.
Inside was a ledger.
And several cassette tapes.
Vittorio's face changed.
Dante saw it.
“So you were afraid of something.”
Vittorio reached for his gun.
Marco was faster.
“Don't.”
Dante opened the ledger.
Payments.
Dates.
Names.
One date matched Antonio's death.
Another matched Isabella's attempted murder.
Then Mara saw something else.
A recent entry.
Her name.
MARA BENNETT.
Beside it was a payment.
Twenty thousand dollars.
Dante's expression turned murderous.
“To whom?”
Mara followed the line.
The recipient was identified only by initials.
E.R.
She looked toward Eddie.
Eddie had gone pale.
“No,” he whispered.
Mara's heart broke.
“Eddie?”
“I can explain.”
Vittorio smiled.
Mara stared at the man she had worked beside for two years.
The friend who brought soup when she was sick.
The friend who covered shifts.
The friend who knew where she lived.
“Were you watching me?”
Eddie began crying.
“He threatened my sister.”
“Answer me.”
“Yes.”
Dante moved toward him.
Mara grabbed Dante's arm.
“No.”
Eddie looked ashamed.
“I told him when you met Dante. Where you went. When you worked.”
“The pharmacy?”
Eddie shook his head violently.
“No. I swear.”
Vittorio stopped smiling.
That reaction told Dante everything.
“Someone else followed her.”
Vittorio remained silent.
Dante approached.
“Who?”
Nothing.
Then Isabella screamed.
Everyone turned.
A man stood in the doorway.
He held a phone.
And the pregnancy test Mara had thrown away.
Mara recognized him.
The pharmacist.
He smiled.
“Mr. Moretti,” he said.
Then he looked at Dante.
May you like
“Not you.”
Behind Dante, Vittorio slowly smiled.
