Chapter 6 - The Betrayal Inside the Family
Dante showed me the original document at sunrise.
His signature was genuine.
The wording wasn't.
The version Luca possessed listed Luca as the target.
The archived version authorized the destruction of an empty warehouse Luca had been using to traffic weapons without Vittorio Moretti's permission.
“Someone replaced the second page,” Dante said.
“Who?”
“My father believed it was Luca.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if Luca wanted me to believe our father killed him.”
I stared at him.
“You think he staged his death?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To disappear with forty million dollars and build an organization without Moretti enemies watching.”
That explained the money.
Not everything else.
“What about Bianca?”
“She knows where the records are.”
“And me?”
Dante's expression became unreadable.
“You are leverage.”
“That's not what Luca thinks.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“Luca believes he loves you.”
The sentence made my skin crawl.
I folded my arms.
“And what do you believe?”
“That Luca doesn't know the difference between loving something and wanting to own it.”
I almost smiled.
“Interesting observation from the man who frightened everyone away from me at a ball.”
Dante accepted the hit.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes.”
“Elena, I never ordered that man harmed.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I told Marco to remove him.”
“Remove sounded fairly permanent in that room.”
“He was put in a cab.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
The sound surprised both of us.
Dante looked at me as if he hadn't heard anything so precious in months.
That expression was dangerous.
I stopped laughing.
“Don't.”
“What?”
“Look at me like that.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you still have a right to miss me.”
Pain crossed his face.
“I don't need a right.”
That silenced me.
He stepped closer but stopped several feet away.
“I lied by omission. I allowed you to believe something that broke your heart because I thought protecting your body mattered more than protecting your trust.”
His voice roughened.
“I was wrong.”
No excuse.
Again.
“I cannot undo those three months.”
“No.”
“I cannot ask you to forget them.”
“No.”
“But I can stop lying.”
I looked at him.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“Did you sleep with Bianca?”
“No.”
“Did you kiss her?”
“She kissed me. I knew cameras were present, so I didn't stop her immediately.”
“That still hurt.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever want her?”
“No.”
“Did you ever cheat on me?”
His answer came instantly.
“Never.”
Something inside me loosened.
Not healed.
Just loosened.
Then the study door opened.
Bianca entered with her shoulder bandaged.
I stared.
“You left the hospital?”
“Apparently hospitals dislike being used as assassination stages.”
She dropped a folder onto the desk.
“I know who helped Luca.”
Dante opened it.
His expression went blank.
I looked.
A photograph showed Luca entering a private club.
Beside him stood a silver-haired man.
I recognized him immediately.
Dante's uncle.
Carlo Moretti.
The man who had raised Dante after his father's death.
The man who had welcomed me into the family.
The man who had called me daughter.
“No,” Dante said.
Bianca's expression softened.
“I'm sorry.”
Dante stared at the photograph.
“Carlo arranged Luca's funeral.”
“Exactly,” Bianca said.
“He identified the body.”
“Exactly.”
The betrayal landed visibly.
For all Dante's power, I saw the boy underneath it—the boy realizing another father had lied to him.
I reached for his hand before remembering I was angry with him.
My fingers stopped.
Dante noticed.
He didn't reach back.
That restraint hurt more than touching would have.
Bianca opened the recovered microdrive.
Records filled the screen.
Carlo had moved money for Luca for years.
Weapons.
Bribes.
Judges.
Police officers.
And one final operation.
Project Crown.
My photograph appeared beside it.
I stared.
“What is that?”
Bianca scrolled.
The plan had been created six years earlier.
Luca's plan.
My movements.
My family.
My university.
Then a final instruction:
Subject is suitable. Establish relationship. Marriage creates access to Marlowe holdings.
My stomach dropped.
“Marlowe holdings?”
Dante looked confused.
“My family doesn't have holdings.”
Bianca stared at me.
“You really don't know?”
“Know what?”
She opened another document.
My mother's name appeared.
Evelyn Marlowe — controlling beneficiary, Marlowe Atlantic Shipping Trust.
I laughed because the alternative was screaming.
“My mother teaches piano.”
“No,” Bianca said quietly. “Your mother owns thirty-one percent of the largest privately held shipping network on the eastern seaboard.”
I stared at her.
“That is impossible.”
Dante looked at the screen.
Then at me.
“Elena.”
“What?”
His face had changed.
He pointed to a shipping route map.
Red lines crossed New York, Boston, Miami, and Sicily.
“These routes could move anything without Moretti inspection.”
Weapons.
Money.
People.
Luca had never chosen me because he loved me.
He had selected me because of something my mother owned.
My phone rang.
Mom.
I answered immediately.
“Mom?”
A man's voice replied.
Carlo Moretti.
“Hello, Elena.”
My blood went cold.
Behind him, I heard my mother crying.
Carlo spoke gently.
“Bring Dante to Pier 19.”
Dante was already reaching for his gun.
Carlo continued.
“And Elena?”
“Yes?”
May you like
“Ask your mother why she has been lying to you your entire life.”
The call ended.
