Chapter 6 - The Woman in the Red Room
Dante had spent his life teaching himself never to panic.
He had watched men die without blinking. He had negotiated peace with people who wanted him dead. He had learned that fear made a man careless, and carelessness made him vulnerable.
But when he saw the empty space where Sophia had been standing, every lesson deserted him.
"Sophia!"
Enzo raced toward the stairs.
Two men searched the courtyard while Dante examined the chamber. The trapdoor had been forced open from beneath, revealing a narrow passage leading toward the chapel.
Someone had known about it.
Someone had been waiting.
Dante found Sophia's scarf near the passage entrance, stained with blood.
He closed his fist around it.
"Find her," he ordered. "I don't care what it costs."
Within twenty minutes, his men had discovered a vehicle abandoned beside the road. Its rear window was shattered, and a smear of blood marked the passenger door.
The trail ended at a private airstrip.
A plane had taken off twelve minutes earlier.
Its flight plan identified a destination in New York.
The owner was Vincent Genovese.
Back at the Moretti estate, Vanessa sat in the library under guard.
When Dante called, she answered before the second ring.
"Where is your father?"
"I don't know."
"Try again."
Vanessa's voice trembled.
"He told me he was going to meet an old associate. He said the meeting would settle everything."
"Did he mention Sophia?"
Silence.
"Vanessa."
"He said she was the last piece of a puzzle that should have been buried twenty years ago."
Dante looked at the bloodstained scarf in his hand.
"If Sophia dies, there will be no alliance. No wedding. No truce."
"Do you think I care about the wedding now?"
"I think you care about your father."
Vanessa began to cry.
"I don't know what to do anymore."
For the first time, Dante heard something in her voice beyond jealousy.
Fear.
"Then tell me the truth," he said.
She hesitated.
"My father told me that Lucia Rossi had stolen a fortune from both families. He said Sophia would inherit it when she turned twenty-five. Her birthday is next week."
Dante went still.
Sophia's twenty-fifth birthday.
The date on the trust documents.
Everything had been arranged around it.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know if it was true until I saw the ledger."
Dante ended the call and turned toward Enzo.
"Get the plane ready."
Hours later, the men found a lead at a private property outside Queens. The building had once been an exclusive social club, but its windows were boarded up and its parking lot was deserted.
Dante entered through the rear door with his weapon drawn.
He found Sophia in a locked room painted deep red.
Her wrists were tied to a chair, but she was conscious. A cut ran across her forehead.
Vincent Genovese stood beside the window, holding a glass of whiskey.
"You're late, Moretti."
Dante aimed at his chest.
"Untie her."
Vincent smiled.
"You always were sentimental. Your father had the same weakness."
"Don't talk about him."
"Why? Because the truth hurts?"
Dante moved closer.
Vincent lifted a hand.
"One more step and she dies."
Sophia looked at Dante.
"Don't listen to him."
Vincent struck her across the face.
Dante's expression emptied.
The room seemed to become colder.
"You have three seconds," Dante said.
Vincent laughed.
"Or what? You'll shoot me? Then my men kill her, and the police find enough evidence to bury you for the rest of your life."
Dante lowered his weapon slightly.
"Tell me what you want."
"The trust. The original documents. Everything Lucia hid."
"It's not mine to give."
"Then you'll have to persuade your little waitress to cooperate."
Sophia lifted her chin.
"My grandmother didn't steal anything. She protected it from you."
Vincent turned toward her.
"Your grandmother was a thief, and your mother was a murderer."
Sophia's eyes flashed.
"You keep saying that. Why?"
For the first time, Vincent's smile faltered.
"Because your mother made a mistake."
"What mistake?"
"She fell in love with a man who should have been killed years before she was born."
Dante's grip tightened around his weapon.
Vincent leaned toward Sophia.
"Your mother didn't kill Adriano. She took the blame to protect the person who did."
"Who?"
Vincent's eyes shifted toward Dante.
"Ask the man who raised your father's son."
Before Dante could react, the lights went out.
A burst of gunfire ripped through the room.
Dante lunged toward Sophia's chair.
When the emergency lights returned, Vincent was gone.
Enzo lay wounded near the door.
And the chair beside the window was empty.
Sophia had disappeared again.
But this time, Dante found something on the floor where she had been sitting.
A gold medallion.
May you like
On its back were two initials.
D.M.
