Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO VANISHED
Lucia agreed to meet us in Vermont.
Not Dante alone.
Us.
That surprised him.
It didn’t surprise me.
Women who had spent years surviving powerful men tended to understand each other before introductions.
We drove north the next morning.
For nearly two hours, Dante said nothing.
Then, somewhere beyond Albany, he asked, “Are you afraid of me?”
I turned from the window.
“What?”
“You heard Lucia was pregnant and immediately looked at me.”
“I looked at you because I needed to know.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
I thought about it.
“No.”
“Have you ever been?”
“Sometimes.”
His face tightened.
“Not that you’d hurt me.”
I continued before he misunderstood.
“I’ve been afraid of disappearing inside your life.”
That hurt him.
I saw it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Every time I asked you to come home earlier. Every time I asked you to take a weekend off. Every time I said I missed you.”
He looked forward again.
“I thought those were complaints about my schedule.”
“They were warnings about our marriage.”
Dante nodded slowly.
“I should have listened.”
“Yes.”
We reached Vermont before sunset.
Lucia lived in a white farmhouse outside a small town, surrounded by maple trees.
She was forty-one now.
Her hair was shorter.
Her face older.
But I recognized her immediately.
She opened the door and stared at Dante.
“Twelve years.”
He nodded.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I know.”
Then Lucia looked at me.
“You must be Elena.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That he had to lose you before learning how much you mattered.”
Dante flinched.
I liked her immediately.
Lucia had kept records.
Bank statements.
Audio recordings.
Copies of Victor’s ledgers.
Names of officials he had paid.
Businesses he had extorted.
Everything.
“Why keep it?” Dante asked.
“Insurance.”
“Why not release it?”
“Because Victor had something I couldn’t risk.”
A door opened behind her.
A boy walked into the room.
Maybe eleven.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
Lucia’s expression softened.
“My son, Gabriel.”
Dante understood.
“Victor’s?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel looked between us.
“Mom?”
“It’s okay. Go finish your homework.”
He disappeared.
Lucia waited until the door closed.
“Victor doesn’t know Gabriel exists.”
“And if he finds out?” I asked.
“He’ll take him. Not because he loves him. Because ownership is the closest thing Victor understands to love.”
The sentence stayed with me.
Maybe because I had spent the past week thinking about the difference myself.
Lucia gave Dante a flash drive.
“This is enough to put Victor away.”
Dante didn’t take it.
“Why trust me now?”
“I don’t.”
He looked surprised.
She handed it to me.
“I trust her.”
I accepted it.
Lucia smiled faintly.
“Beatrice told me about you.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
I looked at Dante.
He looked equally shocked.
“Your mother and I stayed in contact until three years ago,” Lucia explained. “She talked about Elena constantly.”
Dante laughed softly.
“My mother barely talks about anyone.”
“She was worried about your marriage.”
My eyes widened.
Lucia continued.
“She said Dante loved you so much he had started making the same mistake his father made.”
“What mistake?” I asked.
“Believing providing for someone is the same as being present for them.”
Dante lowered his head.
That evening, after Lucia put Gabriel to bed, we sat on her porch.
Dante stood alone near the trees.
Lucia watched him.
“He was different before his father died.”
“I know.”
“You knew him then?”
“Yes.”
“He laughed more.”
I remembered.
Cinnamon doughnuts at midnight.
Dancing badly in our kitchen.
Dante pretending he hated Christmas music while knowing every word.
Power had not transformed him overnight.
It had taken him one compromise at a time.
“He can come back,” Lucia said.
“That isn’t my responsibility.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“That’s why he might.”
The next morning, we drove back to New York with the evidence.
Halfway through Connecticut, Dante’s phone rang.
Nico.
Dante answered through the car speaker.
“Where are you?”
“Manhattan.”
“Don’t go home.”
Dante’s posture changed.
“Why?”
“Victor knows you found Lucia.”
Lucia’s warning returned to me.
“How?” I asked.
Nico hesitated.
“We have a leak.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Then an impact slammed into the rear of our SUV.
I screamed.
Dante grabbed me as the vehicle swerved.
Another black SUV appeared behind us.
Our driver accelerated.
“Get down!” Dante shouted.
The pursuing vehicle struck us again.
Metal screamed.
Dante pushed me toward the floor.
His body covered mine.
The old world had found us.
Our driver took an exit at high speed.
The second vehicle followed.
Dante pulled out his phone.
“State police. Now.”
I stared at him.
Years earlier, he would have called armed men.
He noticed my expression.
“I told you. Different way.”
Despite the fear, something inside me shifted.
Sirens appeared several minutes later.
The pursuing SUV disappeared.
We stopped at a state police barracks.
Nobody was injured.
But the flash drive was gone.
I searched my purse twice.
Then a third time.
Impossible.
“I had it.”
Dante’s face changed.
“When did you last see it?”
“At Lucia’s.”
Our driver stood several feet away.
Anthony.
The man who had driven me away from the gala.
The man who had worked for Dante for six years.
Dante looked at him.
Anthony looked back.
Then slowly reached inside his jacket.
Three officers moved instantly.
“Hands!”
Anthony froze.
Dante stared at him.
“Why?”
Anthony’s eyes filled with shame.
“Victor has my brother.”
Silence.
“He said he’d kill him if I didn’t take the drive.”
“Where is it?” I asked.
Anthony swallowed.
“I didn’t give it to him.”
Dante stepped closer.
“Where?”
Anthony looked directly at me.
“I switched it.”
My heart jumped.
“What?”
“The drive Victor’s man took from the car is blank.”
“Then where is the real one?”
Anthony gave the smallest smile.
“Mrs. Caruso has it.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He pointed toward my necklace.
I touched the silver pendant Dante had given me years ago.
The pendant felt heavier.
A tiny compartment had been added to the back.
Inside was a microdrive.
Dante stared at Anthony.
“When?”
“While you were loading the car.”
For the first time, hope appeared.
Then Anthony said, “But there’s a problem.”
“What?”
“Victor doesn’t just want the waterfront anymore.”
He looked at me.
“He gave me one final instruction.”
Dante’s voice went cold.
“What instruction?”
May you like
Anthony swallowed.
“If I couldn’t steal the evidence, I was supposed to bring him Elena.”
