Chapter 5 - DANTE HAD BEEN BETRAYED TOO
Dante arrived in Madison that afternoon.
I almost refused to see him.
Then I remembered Matteo’s face in the reflection.
I agreed to meet at Rachel’s office.
Neutral ground.
Dante entered wearing the same charcoal coat I had bought him two Christmases earlier.
I hated noticing.
He looked exhausted.
No security entered with him.
No driver.
No intimidating entourage.
Just my husband.
Estranged husband, I reminded myself.
He placed a flash drive on the table.
“Everything from the office system.”
Rachel took it.
Dante looked at me.
“You look different.”
“I’ve had a bad month.”
Pain flickered across his face.
Good.
He deserved some.
“What does Matteo want?”
“The trust.”
“Why?”
“Because he believes it belonged to him first.”
“And Sofia?”
“Matteo’s been using her.”
I folded my arms.
“That doesn’t excuse you.”
“I know.”
The lack of defense unsettled me.
“You kissed her back.”
“For three seconds.”
“You counted?”
“Every second since.”
I looked away.
He continued.
“I could tell you she surprised me. I could tell you I pushed her away. Both are true.”
“Not fast enough.”
“No.”
For the first time, Dante said it plainly.
“I betrayed you.”
Silence.
“No technicality changes that.”
Something inside my chest loosened painfully.
Not forgiveness.
Just relief that he had finally stopped negotiating with the truth.
Then he pulled out another file.
“Matteo contacted me six weeks ago.”
Rachel looked up.
“What did he want?”
“Fifty million dollars and access to the North Harbor companies.”
“In exchange for?”
“Disappearing.”
“You paid him?”
“No.”
Dante gave me a grim smile.
“That’s when strange things started happening.”
Accounts frozen.
Employees bribed.
A warehouse fire.
Private information leaked.
Then Sofia began staying later at the office.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought keeping you outside it protected you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Dante lowered his eyes.
“I know.”
Then he noticed my purse on the table.
The ultrasound envelope had slipped partly open.
A corner of the image was visible.
His face changed.
I grabbed it too late.
“Lena.”
“No.”
His voice became barely audible.
“Are you pregnant?”
The room froze.
I could have lied.
Instead, I looked directly at him.
“Yes.”
Dante sat down as though his knees had stopped working.
“How far?”
“Eight weeks.”
His eyes filled instantly.
“Mine?”
I slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Dante did not move.
Rachel stood.
I was shaking.
“You do not get to ask me that.”
“You’re right.”
He swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
I hated seeing tears in his eyes.
Then I said the part he did not expect.
“There are two.”
He stared.
“Two?”
“Twins.”
Dante covered his face.
For ten full seconds, Chicago’s most feared man quietly cried into his hands.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Vittorio.
Dante answered.
His father did not greet him.
He said only:
“Matteo has Sofia.”
Then another voice came through the speaker.
May you like
Matteo.
“Bring me Lena, little brother, or our father dies before midnight.”
