Chapter 3
“Why didn't you come to me?”
Clara stared at the floor.
“Because men like Marcus don't threaten people like us unless they mean it.”
Dante glanced toward Sophie.
The little girl was wiping her mother's tears with both hands.
“Don't cry, Mommy. I told him.”
Clara kissed her forehead.
“You were so brave, baby.”
Sophie shook her head.
“I was scared.”
Dante crouched beside her.
“Being brave doesn't mean you aren't scared.”
She considered that.
“Were you scared?”
Dante looked at the child.
For the first time in many years, he answered without hiding anything.
“Yes.”
Sophie touched his cheek.
“It's okay. Mommy says scared people can still do good things.”
Dante couldn't speak.
Rafael appeared at the end of the hall.
“Boss. We found something.”
Dante rose.
“What?”
“Marcus had a second phone. There's a message scheduled for ten o'clock.”
Dante checked his watch.
9:56.
Four minutes.
“What message?”
Rafael hesitated.
Then he held out the screen.
Four words appeared beneath an unknown number.
FINISH THE JOB TONIGHT.
Dante looked toward the study.
And suddenly understood.
The gift box had never been Marcus's entire plan.
It was only the beginning.
## CHAPTER 4 — ELEVEN YEARS OF LIES
Marcus sat in Dante's study with blood running from his split lip.
His expression had changed.
The frightened man from the ballroom was gone.
In his place sat someone almost relieved.
Dante entered alone.
Rafael remained outside the door.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Marcus laughed.
“You always did love an entrance.”
Dante stood by the desk.
“Who else is involved?”
Marcus leaned back.
“You really want to do this?”
“Who?”
“You spent eleven years treating me like an employee.”
Dante's face remained still.
“I treated you like a brother.”
“No,” Marcus snapped. “You called me a brother. There's a difference.”
He leaned forward.
“Every deal, every handshake, every dollar—your name. Your father's name. The Moretti name.”
Dante watched him.
“I built half of what you own.”
“And I made sure you never had to ask for anything.”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“Except respect.”
Outside, a grandfather clock began chiming.
Dante glanced at his watch.
9:58.
“Who's coming at ten?”
Marcus smiled.
“People who are tired of bowing to you.”
“Names.”
“You'll find out.”
Dante moved closer.
“There's a five-year-old girl in this house. You threatened her.”
Something flickered in Marcus's eyes.
“Collateral damage.”
Dante stared at him.
For eleven years, he had mistaken loyalty for friendship.