Chapter 5 - The Night Someone Tried to Destroy Her
Claire left Dante's townhouse at 10:43 p.m.
She remembered the exact time because she looked at her phone while standing beneath the front steps, trying to decide whether she should cry.
She had gone to dinner believing she might finally have met a man who saw her.
She was leaving with a terrible question.
Had Dante Moretti approached her because he admired her cooking?
Or because her dead mother was connected to his family's secrets?
Dante followed her outside.
“Claire, please.”
She turned.
“Did you know about those payments before you came to Lucerna?”
“No.”
“Did you know my mother owned part of the restaurant?”
“Not until Evelyn found the agreement.”
“Then why did you remember her bakery so clearly?”
Dante's jaw tightened.
“Because my mother never forgot what Margaret did for us.”
Claire wanted to believe him.
That was the frightening part.
She wanted it badly enough to worry about her own judgment.
“Your father paid money into an account under my mother's name for fifteen years.”
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to believe you have no idea why?”
“I expect you to question everything until we find proof.”
His answer stopped her.
He stepped closer, leaving enough distance for her to move away.
“My family has done things I'm not proud of, Claire. I'm not going to pretend otherwise.”
She studied him.
“Were you involved?”
“In those payments? No.”
“In other things?”
Dante looked toward the street.
“Yes.”
The honesty frightened her more than a polished lie would have.
He continued.
“When my father died, I inherited businesses that should never have existed. I spent years closing some, selling others, and separating the legitimate companies from the people who used our name to intimidate others.”
“Did you succeed?”
“Not completely.”
Claire swallowed.
“Then I need time.”
Dante nodded.
“You have it.”
She turned to leave.
“Claire?”
She stopped.
“Whatever you decide about me, don't go back to Lucerna alone.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“Why?”
“Because Victor knows we're getting close to something he buried.”
The next morning, Claire woke to forty-seven missed calls.
Most came from numbers she didn't recognize.
Her social media accounts were filled with messages.
Homewrecker.
Gold digger.
Desperate woman chasing a billionaire.
Her hands trembled as she opened a photograph someone had posted.
It showed her entering Dante's townhouse.
Another showed him standing close to her on the front steps.
The caption claimed Claire had seduced Dante to secure a lucrative catering contract after being fired for stealing from Lucerna.
Then she saw the video.
Victor sat in his restaurant office, looking devastated.
“I treated Claire Bennett like a daughter,” he told the camera. “Unfortunately, she abused my trust. We discovered missing funds, confidential recipes, and serious misconduct.”
Claire felt sick.
There were hundreds of comments.
People who had never met her were calling her a thief.
Some mocked her appearance.
Others claimed a woman like her would do anything for a wealthy man's attention.
She dropped the phone onto the couch.
For a moment, she was twenty-six again.
Standing in Victor's office.
Being told she was lucky anyone wanted her.
Then she remembered Dante's words.
I expect you to question everything until we find proof.
She picked up her phone and called Evelyn.
“I want to fight back.”
The attorney answered immediately.
“Good. I've already begun preserving the posts and preparing a demand that Victor stop publishing false accusations.”
“Can we make him remove them?”
“We can demand corrections and pursue legal remedies. But first, I need you to stay somewhere safe.”
Claire frowned.
“Why?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Someone broke into your former locker at Lucerna last night.”
Claire's stomach tightened.
“What were they looking for?”
“We don't know.”
Claire looked toward her bedroom.
Her mother's recipe notebook sat in the top drawer.
She had brought it home months earlier after Victor threatened to throw away her personal belongings.
Suddenly, she remembered something.
A folded envelope tucked inside the notebook's back cover.
Her mother had written one sentence across it.
For Claire, when she's ready.
Claire hurried into the bedroom.
She opened the drawer.
The notebook was gone.
For several seconds, she couldn't breathe.
Then she noticed the window.
The lock was broken.
A muddy footprint marked the floor.
And on her pillow lay a single sprig of rosemary.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered with shaking hands.
A man's voice spoke.
“Stop asking questions about your mother.”
Claire backed toward the door.
“Who is this?”
“You've already lost your job. Don't make us take something else.”
The call ended.
Claire dialed Dante.
He answered on the first ring.
“Claire?”
“Someone's been in my apartment.”
His voice changed instantly.
“Are they still there?”
“I don't know.”
“Leave the apartment now. Don't touch anything else. Marco is nearby, and I'm calling the police.”
Claire hurried into the hallway.
She could barely get her keys into her purse.
An elderly neighbor opened her door.
“Claire, sweetheart? Are you okay?”
Claire shook her head.
“Mrs. Alvarez, can I wait with you?”
“Of course.”
Ten minutes later, police officers arrived.
Marco arrived shortly afterward.
Dante came himself.
He found Claire sitting at her neighbor's kitchen table, holding a cup of tea she hadn't touched.
He crouched in front of her.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
Claire looked at him.
“For what?”
“For not understanding how dangerous this could become.”
Her eyes filled.
“They took my mother's notebook.”
Dante went still.
“What notebook?”
“Her recipes. Her handwriting. Everything she taught me.”
He gently covered her trembling hand with his.
“We'll do everything we can to recover it.”
Claire stared at him.
Then she whispered, “There's something else.”
“What?”
“My mother wrote a letter for me. I never opened it.”
Dante waited.
“It was hidden inside the notebook.”
His expression darkened.
“And now someone else has it.”
Claire nodded.
Dante looked toward Marco.
“Find out who entered this building.”
Marco hesitated.
“Boss, there's something you should see first.”
He handed Dante his phone.
A security-camera image showed a man entering Claire's apartment building shortly after midnight.
He wore a dark baseball cap.
His face was partly hidden.
But Dante recognized him.
Claire saw the recognition immediately.
“Who is that?”
May you like
Dante's voice was barely audible.
“My brother.”
