Chapter 2 - THE DAUGHTER HE NEVER KNEW
Claire left Dante's hospital room without answering.
She walked down the corridor, through the nurses' station, and into an empty consultation room.
Only after closing the door did she allow herself to breathe.
He knew.
Somehow, Dante knew about Mia.
For six years, Claire had protected one secret with everything she had.
Their daughter existed.
Not because Claire wanted to punish Dante.
Because she had believed he was dead.
At first, she had waited.
Days became weeks.
Weeks became months.
She had called every number she had.
Nothing.
She had contacted his old apartment.
Empty.
His business partners knew nothing.
His family refused to speak to her.
Eventually, the police told her there was no official missing-person case because there was no evidence that Dante was missing.
He had simply disappeared.
So Claire raised Mia alone.
Mia was six now.
Bright.
Curious.
Obsessed with horses and moonlight.
And completely unaware that her father was one of the most feared men in the Pacific Northwest.
Claire returned to Dante's room two hours later.
He was awake.
“You knew about her,” Claire said.
Dante's jaw tightened.
“Not until recently.”
“How?”
He looked toward the window.
“Three months ago, someone sent me a photograph.”
Claire's blood ran cold.
“What photograph?”
Dante reached toward the bedside table.
His security man handed him a phone.
He turned the screen toward her.
Claire saw Mia.
Her daughter stood outside her elementary school holding a backpack covered in cartoon horses.
The photograph had been taken from across the street.
Claire's stomach dropped.
“Who took that?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why didn't you come to me?”
“I couldn't.”
“You always have an excuse.”
Dante looked at her.
“No. This time I have proof.”
He handed her another photograph.
Then another.
Someone had been following Mia.
For months.
Claire's anger evaporated.
Fear replaced it.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Dante's voice became quieter.
“The people who shot me tonight aren't trying to kill me because of business.”
Claire stared at him.
“Then why?”
“Because I found out who ordered the photographs.”
“Who?”
Dante hesitated.
“Someone inside my organization.”
Claire stepped backward.
“You're telling me your own people are watching my daughter?”
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
That answer surprised her.
Dante continued.
“I expect you to keep Mia alive.”
Claire folded her arms.
“You vanished.”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe you abandoned us.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me raise your daughter alone.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“I know.”
“Then why come back?”
“Because the people who wanted me dead six years ago are back.”
Claire stared at him.
“What happened six years ago?”
Dante looked toward the door.
“Someone intercepted a shipment belonging to my family. Three men died. Then I discovered the betrayal came from inside.”
“Vincent?”
Dante's eyes sharpened.
“You remember him?”
“I remember everything.”
“Vincent Russo was only the beginning.”
Claire frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Dante leaned back.
“Six years ago, I discovered a network inside my organization. They were selling information to a rival group called the Bellini Syndicate.”
Claire knew enough about Dante's world to understand what that meant.
“You went into hiding.”
“Yes.”
“And never told me.”
“If I told you, they would have watched you.”
“You could have trusted me.”
“I couldn't trust anyone.”
Claire's expression hardened.
“You could have trusted me.”
Dante looked directly into her eyes.
“That was the problem.”
Silence.
“What does that mean?”
“I loved you enough to become predictable.”
Claire looked away.
Dante continued.
“I knew if they threatened you, I'd surrender everything.”
She swallowed.
“You could have given me a choice.”
“I was trying to give you a life.”
“You gave me six years of wondering whether I wasn't worth staying for.”
His face tightened.
“I never stopped loving you.”
Claire almost laughed.
“That doesn't fix anything.”
“No.”
A knock came.
One of Dante's men entered.
“Boss.”
Dante looked up.
“What?”
“We found the vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Two blocks from the hospital.”
“And?”
The man hesitated.
“There was a second shooter.”
Dante's expression hardened.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
Then the man placed a small plastic evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a child's pink hair clip.
Claire recognized it immediately.
Mia's.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“No.”
Dante's eyes became terrifyingly cold.
“When was this found?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Claire grabbed her phone.
She called Kate.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Dante saw her face.
“Who has Mia?”
“Her babysitter.”
“Call again.”
Claire did.
Straight to voicemail.
Dante ripped the IV line from his arm.
“Get me out of here.”
“You're not walking anywhere,” Claire snapped.
“I don't have time.”
“You have three gunshot wounds.”
“My daughter may be in danger.”
Claire stared at him.
The word daughter sounded different when he said it.
Not theoretical.
Not distant.
Possessive.
Protective.
Real.
Dante swung his legs over the bed.
He nearly collapsed.
Claire caught him.
For one second, they stood close enough that she could feel his heartbeat.
“You're impossible,” she whispered.
“So are you.”
A phone rang.
Not hers.
Dante's.
His security man answered.
Then his face changed.
“Boss…”
Dante's voice went cold.
“What?”
The man swallowed.
“They found the babysitter.”
Claire's knees weakened.
“Is she alive?”
“No.”
The room went silent.
May you like
Dante looked at Claire.
“Take me to your daughter.”
