Chapter 8 - What Dante Chose
Dante survived surgery.
The bullet had entered below his collarbone and missed his heart by inches.
Emma sat outside the private hospital room for seven hours.
Marco eventually brought her coffee.
“You can go home.”
“I don’t have a home.”
“The brownstone.”
“That’s his.”
Marco looked through the glass at Dante.
“He’d disagree.”
Emma studied him.
“How long have you known him?”
“Twenty years.”
“What kind of man is he?”
Marco smiled slightly.
“You’ve met him.”
“I mean really.”
Marco considered his answer.
“He became head of the family at thirty-one. Everybody expected a war.”
“Was there one?”
“No.”
“He doesn’t seem like a pacifist.”
“He isn’t.”
Marco sat beside her.
“But Dante realized fear is expensive. Violence creates witnesses, investigations, revenge.”
“So?”
“He moved most of the family into legitimate businesses.”
Emma frowned.
“That doesn’t erase whatever came before.”
“No.”
Marco nodded.
“He knows that.”
Dante woke that afternoon.
Emma entered his room.
His eyes opened.
“Did Matteo survive?”
“Yes.”
“Vale?”
“Yes.”
“Unfortunate.”
Emma laughed unexpectedly.
Dante smiled weakly.
“You stayed.”
“You were shot because of me.”
“I was shot because my uncle has terrible conflict-resolution skills.”
Emma moved closer.
“You scared me.”
His expression softened.
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“No. Your intention was apparently to bleed all over a five-star carpet.”
“Did they charge me?”
“Probably.”
Silence settled.
Emma sat beside the bed.
“Matteo confessed to killing Salvatore.”
“I heard.”
“And arranging my mother’s crash.”
Dante closed his eyes briefly.
“I’m sorry.”
Emma looked at him.
“For what?”
“For the name I carry.”
“My mother told me not to judge you by it.”
His eyes opened.
“You listened?”
“Eventually.”
Emma reached for his hand.
His fingers closed around hers.
“Dante.”
“Yes?”
“What happens now?”
“Vale and Matteo face federal charges.”
“I mean to you.”
His gaze moved toward the window.
“I don’t know.”
“The company?”
“You own your shares.”
“I don’t want them.”
“That is an expensive emotional decision.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He shifted painfully.
“Keep them.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabella wanted you to have a choice.”
Emma thought about that.
Dante continued.
“The company can be changed.”
“Into what?”
“Something that doesn’t require people like me.”
Emma raised an eyebrow.
“You’re planning to fire yourself?”
“Eventually.”
“You’d hate retirement.”
“I’m thirty-four.”
“Exactly. You’d be unbearable for another fifty years.”
His laugh turned into a wince.
Emma leaned closer.
“Don’t.”
“I got shot, not embalmed.”
Their eyes met.
The room changed again.
Dante lifted her hand.
He kissed her fingers.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Emma’s breath caught.
Then she leaned forward and kissed him.
It was not dramatic.
No fireworks.
No sweeping music.
Just warmth after days of fear.
When she pulled back, Dante looked surprised.
“Say something irritating,” Emma whispered.
“Your Italian pronunciation is inconsistent.”
She stared.
“You were literally shot yesterday.”
“And yet I remain correct.”
She kissed him again.
Three days later, the story exploded across national media.
Senator Vale arrested.
Romano family corruption exposed.
Federal investigators reopening decades of cases.
Emma’s name appeared everywhere.
Hotel concierge secretly controls shipping fortune.
Witness survives assassination plot.
Mystery daughter tied to infamous Romano dynasty.
Reporters crowded outside the hospital.
Then another headline appeared.
DANTE ROMANO EXPECTED TO FACE RACKETEERING CHARGES.
Emma stormed into his room holding her phone.
“You knew.”
Dante’s face told her everything.
“What?”
“Judge Kim offered you immunity?”
“Yes.”
“And you refused?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because immunity required me to testify while shielding the company.”
“I don’t understand.”
Dante looked at her.
“The company benefited from crimes before I took control.”
“So?”
“So people were hurt.”
Emma stared.
“You’re going to prison voluntarily?”
“If necessary.”
“Dante.”
“I spent years convincing myself that making the family cleaner was enough.”
He shook his head.
“It wasn’t.”
Emma sat slowly.
“If you cooperate?”
“Reduced charges.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes burned.
“You cannot finally become someone I care about and then disappear.”
His voice softened.
“Emma.”
“No.”
She stood.
“Everybody in my life keeps deciding what is best for me without asking.”
“This isn’t about you.”
“That’s worse.”
Dante stared.
Emma wiped tears angrily.
“You want redemption? Fine. But don’t confuse punishment with responsibility.”
She walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To do something you apparently forgot how to do.”
“What?”
May you like
Emma looked back.
“Fight intelligently.”
