Chapter 7 - The Betrayal She Couldn’t Forgive
Dante Romano had purchased Bennett Ridge six years ago.
One year after Thomas Bennett died.
Sophie learned the rest inside a hospital room while Dante sat shirtless beneath white bandages.
“You bought my father’s vineyard.”
“Yes.”
“Through a shell company.”
“Yes.”
“And never told me.”
“I found out it was yours after you gave me your father’s name.”
“But you still didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
Sophie paced.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know why my father bought it.”
She stopped.
“Your father?”
“He acquired it first. I inherited the holding company.”
That changed the facts.
Not the feeling.
“You had days to tell me.”
“I was trying to understand what happened.”
“So was I!”
“I wanted proof before giving you another reason to distrust me.”
Sophie laughed bitterly.
“So you solved distrust with secrecy?”
Dante had no answer.
Exactly.
Sophie grabbed her coat.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from you.”
“Sophie.”
“No.”
He stood despite the pain.
She turned.
“Sit down before you bleed on something expensive.”
He almost smiled.
Wrong moment.
Her eyes filled.
“You don’t get to make me laugh right now.”
His expression fell.
“I know.”
That made leaving harder.
She left anyway.
For the next two weeks, Sophie stayed with her best friend, Rachel, in Evanston.
Whitmore’s arrest became national news.
Financial records exposed judges, brokers, businessmen and members of the old Romano network.
Luca cooperated with investigators.
Dante began dismantling the remaining operations his father had concealed.
And Sophie ignored every call from him.
All except one.
A voicemail arrived at 2:13 a.m.
Dante’s voice.
“I signed Bennett Ridge over to you today. No conditions. No debt. No partnership. It was always supposed to be yours.”
Sophie listened twice.
Then deleted it.
Then recovered it from recently deleted.
She was still angry, not stupid.
Three days later, she drove to California.
Bennett Ridge looked smaller than she remembered.
The vines were overgrown.
The tasting room windows were boarded.
The old Bennett sign had faded almost white.
Sophie stood at the gate for a long time.
Then she unlocked it.
Her father’s vineyard belonged to her again.
She walked through the abandoned tasting room.
Dust floated in sunlight.
She could almost hear Thomas laughing.
Angry berries.
Descriptions don’t need to sound impressive, Soph.
They need to be true.
Sophie cried there.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
For everything seven years had stolen.
Then a vehicle approached.
She expected a contractor.
Instead, Luca stepped out.
Sophie stiffened.
“If Dante sent you—”
“He didn’t.”
“What do you want?”
“To tell you something he won’t.”
She crossed her arms.
“That family has an allergy to straightforward communication.”
Luca almost smiled.
Then he handed her an envelope.
Inside was an old purchase agreement.
Giovanni Romano had bought Bennett Ridge after Thomas’s death.
But attached was a handwritten note.
Dante—
If Thomas Bennett’s daughter ever comes looking, return this place to her. I bought it because Whitmore intended to destroy it and everything Thomas hid there.
G.
Sophie read it twice.
“Dante never saw this?”
“Not until yesterday.”
“Why?”
“It was inside Giovanni’s private legal archive.”
She looked at Luca.
“So Dante didn’t steal the vineyard.”
“No.”
“He inherited it without knowing what it was.”
“Yes.”
“And gave it back as soon as he understood.”
“Yes.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
This was extremely inconvenient for her anger.
Luca looked toward the vines.
“He’s selling most of the criminal holdings.”
“What?”
“He says the Romano name has buried enough people.”
“Can he do that?”
“He’s Dante. People are adapting.”
Sophie stared at the note.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because he loves you.”
She looked up sharply.
Luca shrugged.
“He’s also emotionally incompetent.”
“That part I knew.”
“He won’t come here unless you ask.”
Sophie looked around.
“What would I even say?”
“Preferably something before he becomes completely unbearable.”
Luca left.
That evening Sophie found another surprise.
Behind a loose panel in her father’s office was a ledger.
Not criminal records.
Recipes.
Blending notes.
Plans.
On the final page, Thomas had designed a wine he never lived long enough to produce.
Bennett No. 17.
Sophie stared at the number.
TB-17.
The bottle had not merely been evidence.
It had been a message directing her home.
At the bottom, Thomas had written:
For Sophie, if she ever decides wine is still worth loving.
Her tears fell onto the page.
The next morning, Sophie called Dante.
He answered on the first ring.
“Sophie.”
His voice changed just saying her name.
She swallowed.
“I found number seventeen.”
Silence.
“Are you safe?”
That was his first question.
Not what did you find?
Not what does it prove?
Are you safe?
Sophie smiled through tears.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“I need help.”
“Tell me where.”
She looked out across acres of neglected vines.
“California.”
A pause.
Then:
“I’ll be there tonight.”
Sophie’s heart jumped.
“Dante?”
“Yes?”
“Bring work clothes.”
Silence.
“What qualifies as work clothes?”
She laughed.
“Oh, this is going to be wonderful.”
For the first time in weeks, Dante laughed too.
But neither knew that someone else had found Thomas Bennett’s final ledger.
May you like
And that person had already offered ten million dollars for Bennett Ridge.
When Sophie refused to sell, the offer would become a threat.
