Chapter 9 - THE FAMILY THAT NEVER DIED
Dante spent the next hour staring at the photograph of his mother.
He remembered the funeral he had never attended because his father insisted the body had been too badly damaged to view. He remembered the flowers, the priest, the closed coffin, and the way Richard had stood beside him, promising that the Moretti family would survive.
His mother had been alive.
Somewhere.
For years.
"Why?" he finally asked.
Luca sat opposite him.
"Father told her that if she returned, he would have both of us killed. He claimed the accident had been arranged by Sofia's family and that we were already in danger."
"Did she believe him?"
"At first. Then she discovered the truth about the warehouse."
Dante closed his eyes.
"And you found her?"
"Two years ago. She was living under another name in a small town outside Geneva."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because she asked me not to."
Dante rose so abruptly that the chair scraped backward.
"You expect me to forgive you for that?"
"No."
"You expect me to understand?"
"No."
"Then what do you expect?"
Luca looked exhausted.
"Nothing. I came back because I couldn't protect you from a distance anymore."
Elena watched the brothers argue.
She could see the pain beneath their anger. They had spent years being taught that love meant silence, that loyalty meant obedience, and that protecting someone meant deciding what they were allowed to know.
Their father had turned the entire family into prisoners without locking a single door.
"We need to find her," Elena said.
Dante turned toward her.
"We will."
"And Sofia."
Luca nodded.
"I have a lead on her."
"Then we find them both," Elena said. "But first, we protect Isabella and this baby."
For once, nobody argued.
They moved Elena and Isabella to a secure property outside Chicago, a secluded house belonging to a former judge who owed Dante a debt. Marcus brought in a trusted medical team, while Luca coordinated the search for their mother.
For two days, the plan held.
Isabella began to trust Dante enough to sit beside him at breakfast. She asked him whether he knew how to make pancakes, then looked horrified when he admitted he had never cooked them.
Elena taught them both.
Dante burned the first batch.
Isabella laughed so hard that milk came out of her nose.
For the first time since the night the scarf appeared in their bedroom, Elena saw her husband smile without looking as if he had forgotten how.
That evening, Dante found Elena on the porch.
"Thank you," he said.
She looked at him.
"For what?"
"For giving me a chance to be her father."
Elena rested a hand on her stomach.
"You don't get credit for showing up twice and calling it redemption."
"I know."
"Trust isn't going to return because you found your brother or because your daughter is alive."
"I know that too."
She studied him.
"Then what are you asking me for?"
"Time."
The answer was so simple that it hurt.
Elena moved closer and rested her head briefly against his shoulder.
"That's all I can give you right now."
He kissed her hair.
For several minutes, they watched the trees move in the evening wind.
Then Marcus came outside.
"We found your mother."
Dante stood.
"Where?"
"Switzerland. She's alive. But she refuses to speak to anyone except Luca."
Dante's expression fell.
"Why?"
Marcus handed him a phone.
"She sent a message."
Dante read it.
I will come to Chicago if you promise not to bring Elena.
Elena felt the familiar ache of being excluded from another secret.
Dante looked at her.
"I won't ask you to stay behind."
She nodded.
"Good."
They prepared to leave the next morning.
But before dawn, the house lost power.
Marcus's men secured the entrances while Dante hurried upstairs to check on Elena and Isabella.
The bedroom was empty.
The windows were locked.
The security camera had been disabled.
On the bed lay a single white envelope.
Inside was a photograph of Elena asleep in the hospital, taken two weeks earlier.
Beneath it was a handwritten note.
Bring the girl to the old warehouse by midnight. Come alone. If you refuse, your wife gives birth without you.
Dante's phone rang.
An unfamiliar voice answered when he picked up.
"Hello, Dante."
He recognized the voice immediately.
His father.
Older.
Calm.
Alive.
"You have spent your entire life trying to become a man I could respect," the voice continued. "Tonight, you will prove whether you are capable of obeying me."
Dante gripped the phone.
"If you touch my wife—"
"Your wife is perfectly safe. For now."
A pause.
"Bring Isabella. And don't make the mistake of thinking your brother can save you this time."
The call ended.
Dante turned toward Marcus.
"Find Elena."
Marcus nodded and ran.
Dante looked at the note again.
Midnight.
The old warehouse.
His father wanted him to return to the place where his brother had supposedly died.
The place where their family had been destroyed.
Dante loaded his weapon.
Then he made a decision that would either save his family or finish what his father had started eleven years earlier.
He would go to the warehouse.
May you like
But he would not go alone.
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