Chapter 11 - THE BRIDE WHO PLANNED A FUNERAL
Dante woke in a private hospital suite with his left shoulder bandaged and Elena Vasquez sitting beside his bed.
For several seconds, he simply watched her.
She had fallen asleep in a chair, her head resting against the mattress.
One hand still held his.
The sight unsettled him more than the bullet wound.
No one had waited beside his hospital bed like that since his mother died.
He moved slightly.
Elena woke immediately.
"Dante?"
It was the first time she had used his name without the formal title.
He liked it.
"How's Sophia?"
"Safe. She's with Marco's wife."
"Good."
Elena's eyes filled.
"You could have died."
"But I didn't."
"That's not funny."
"I wasn't joking."
She stood abruptly.
"Do you understand what you did?"
Dante frowned.
"I brought your daughter home."
"You ran toward a man with a gun!"
"She was three years old."
"And you're forty-two, which apparently doesn't make you any smarter!"
Dante stared at her.
Then, despite the pain, he laughed.
Elena looked furious.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because nobody's yelled at me like that in twenty years."
"Then somebody should have started sooner."
He reached for her hand.
She tried to pull away.
He held it gently.
"Elena."
She looked at him.
"I would do it again."
Her expression broke.
"That's what scares me."
He drew her closer.
For one suspended moment, neither spoke.
Then Elena touched his cheek.
"You don't have to carry everything alone."
Dante's throat tightened.
Before he could answer, Marco entered.
"Boss. We found Isabella."
Dante released Elena's hand.
"Where?"
"At Saint Michael's Chapel."
Dante stared.
"The wedding?"
"She's waiting."
"What?"
"She sent invitations this morning. The ceremony is still scheduled for three."
Dante looked at the clock.
11:26 a.m.
Less than four hours.
"Victor?"
"Missing. We found blood near the lake, but no body."
"Margaret?"
"In custody."
"Talking?"
"Not yet."
Dante swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Elena immediately protested.
"Absolutely not."
He looked at her.
"I need to finish this."
"You're injured."
"I've been injured before."
"And apparently learned nothing."
Marco tried not to smile.
Dante stood.
Pain flashed through his shoulder.
He ignored it.
"Get me a suit."
Elena folded her arms.
"If you're going, I'm going."
"No."
"Then I'll follow you."
"Elena—"
She stepped closer.
"My daughter almost died because of this family. I deserve to know why."
Dante studied her.
Then nodded.
"Fine. But you stay with security."
Two hours later, Dante entered Saint Michael's Chapel wearing a black suit over his bandages.
The pews were empty.
No guests.
No flowers.
No priest.
Only Isabella stood near the altar.
She wore a white wedding gown.
Her dark hair fell in perfect waves.
And in her hands she held a small black folder.
"You're late," she said.
Dante stopped halfway down the aisle.
"You're insane."
Isabella smiled sadly.
"Perhaps."
"Where's your father?"
"Running."
"From whom?"
"Me."
Dante's eyes narrowed.
Isabella opened the folder.
Inside were photographs.
Financial records.
Death certificates.
And one final document.
A handwritten confession.
"My father murdered my mother," she said.
"I know."
"He murdered your mother too."
Dante remained silent.
"He made me believe your father was responsible. He raised me to hate your family."
"Then why help him steal from me?"
"Because I needed him to think I was loyal."
Dante studied her face.
"What did you really want?"
Isabella's eyes filled.
"Proof."
"Of what?"
"That he killed everyone who tried to stop him."
She handed Dante the folder.
At the bottom was a photograph of a young woman holding two babies.
Gabriella Costa.
One baby wore a pink blanket.
The other wore blue.
Dante stared.
"Twins?"
Isabella nodded.
"Luca and I."
Dante's mind raced.
The altered birth records.
The hidden child.
The forged parentage.
"Why did my father take Luca?"
"Because he was trying to save him."
Dante looked up.
"From Victor?"
Isabella shook her head.
"From Margaret."
Dante frowned.
"Why?"
Isabella swallowed.
"Because Margaret wasn't just helping Victor."
"Then who was she?"
Isabella's voice dropped.
"She was his first wife."
Dante stared at her.
"And she never forgave him for choosing my mother."
A sound came from the back of the chapel.
Slow applause.
Dante turned.
Margaret Bell stood in the doorway.
Two armed men beside her.
She smiled.
"Such a touching family reunion."
Dante's hand moved toward his jacket.
Margaret raised her pistol.
"Don't."
Isabella went pale.
"How did you get out?"
Margaret laughed.
"Darling, you really thought those men were loyal to Dante?"
She stepped forward.
"Now put the folder down."
Dante did not move.
Margaret's smile widened.
"Because the wedding is canceled."
May you like
She aimed the pistol at Isabella.
"And today, we're having a funeral."
