Chapter 4
And friendship for goodness.
“That's what she is to you?”
Marcus shrugged.
“She shouldn't have been snooping.”
Dante's fist tightened.
But he didn't strike him.
He simply stepped back.
“You know what my father told me the night you joined us?”
Marcus rolled his eyes.
“Another Moretti family lesson?”
“He said the most dangerous man isn't the one who hates you.”
Dante paused.
“It's the one who believes you owe him your life.”
Marcus's expression faltered.
A knock sounded.
Rafael entered without waiting.
“Boss. We intercepted the scheduled message before it went out. Local police are securing the perimeter, and the bomb technicians are working on the gift.”
“Anything else?”
Rafael nodded.
“Three men were waiting outside the south service gate. One had a layout of the house. They've been detained.”
Dante turned back to Marcus.
His old friend stared at him.
“You think this ends tonight?”
“No,” Dante said.
“It begins tonight.”
And then he walked away.
Not because he was forgiving Marcus.
But because, for the first time, Dante understood that destroying a traitor would be easy.
Changing the life that had made such betrayal possible would be much harder.
## CHAPTER 5 — THE THING SOPHIE HAD NOT TOLD HIM
By 10:34 p.m., the estate was quiet.
The suspicious gift had been secured by specialists, and the immediate threat had passed.
Police officers filled the downstairs rooms.
Marcus and his accomplices were in custody.
But Dante was not celebrating.
He stood in the kitchen doorway watching Sophie eat a piece of birthday cake.
She sat on the counter in her yellow dress, swinging her legs.
Clara stood beside her, looking exhausted.
When Sophie noticed Dante, she smiled.
“Mr. Dante! There's still cake.”
Dante approached.
“Is it good?”
She nodded enthusiastically.
“Chocolate. But Mommy says I can't have more because it's bedtime.”
Dante looked at Clara.
“For tonight, I think we can make an exception.”
Clara managed a weak smile.
Sophie held out a forkful.
“You can have mine.”
Dante accepted it.
Chocolate frosting.
Too sweet.
Perfect.
He had almost forgotten what it felt like to receive something without wondering what the giver wanted in return.
Then Sophie leaned closer.
“I forgot to tell you something.”
Dante set the fork down.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“Uncle Marcus was talking about your daddy.”
Dante went still.
“My father?”
Sophie nodded.
“He said you believed the wrong story.”
The kitchen seemed suddenly very quiet.