Chapter 4 - THE MAFIA BOSS PROMISED TO SAVE HER DYING BROTHER—BUT HIS JEALOUS FIANCÉE HAD ALREADY PLANNED A CRUEL BETRAYAL
“Dante... why did my father just call me from the grave?”
The question hung between us in the hospital corridor. Behind Dante, a nurse wheeled a cart past the reception desk. Somewhere beyond the double doors, my little brother slept beneath a blue blanket, his heart struggling to keep a rhythm the rest of us took for granted.
Dante did not answer quickly enough.
I stepped away. “You knew.”
“I knew Richard Vance might be alive,” he said. “I did not know he would contact you today.”
“That is not the same as telling me the truth.”
“No.” His face tightened. “It isn't.”
My phone felt slick in my hand. Eleven years of birthdays, Christmas mornings, and school concerts flashed through my mind. I remembered placing flowers on my father's grave. I remembered how my mother used to stand in the kitchen after midnight, staring at the back door as though she expected someone to knock.
“He said you know who killed Mom.”
Dante looked toward Toby's room. “We shouldn't do this where your brother might hear.”
“Then tell me somewhere else. Right now.”
He guided me to an empty family consultation room, leaving the door open. A vase of artificial flowers stood on a low table. I hated the flowers. I hated the comfortable chairs. I hated that the world could look so ordinary while everything inside me came apart.
Dante remained standing. “Your mother died during an attack on a safe house in Queens. I arrived after someone alerted me. She was wounded. I held her until the ambulance came.”
“Who attacked her?”
“I believed Victor Sloane ordered it. I still believe he was involved, but I never obtained proof that would stand up in court.”
“And you didn't tell me?”
“You were thirteen. Your brother was four. The people responsible were looking for you. Your mother asked me to keep you out of their reach.”
I laughed without humor. “By leaving us alone and broke?”
He accepted the accusation without flinching. “I arranged financial support through intermediaries. It stopped reaching you after the administrator disappeared. I discovered that failure only recently.”
“That's convenient.”
“It's unforgivable,” he said. “And it's mine.”
For a moment I had no answer. He wasn't asking me to forgive him. Somehow that made me angrier.
“Was my father there when she died?”
“No.”
“Did he abandon us?”
“I don't know what he did after the crash. I have reasons to suspect he went into hiding. I also have reasons to suspect the man on your phone wasn't Richard.”
I stared. “You heard his voice?”
“No. But the timing is calculated. Someone learns that we've found a box bearing your name, then calls you with the one story guaranteed to make you run from me.”
“Maybe because it's true.”
Dante nodded once. “Maybe. That's why we'll verify it.”
He reached for the door, then paused. “You don't owe me your trust. But please don't meet that caller alone.”
I looked at the phone again. A new message appeared while we spoke: YOUR MOTHER LEFT YOU A CHOICE. DANTE WILL NEVER LET YOU MAKE IT.
I turned the screen toward him.
Dante's jaw tightened. “Don't answer yet.”
“Don't tell me what to do.”
“Then let me tell you what I know. Sloane has used people who look like family to lure witnesses into traps. I don't want you to be next.”
I sat down, suddenly exhausted. “All I want is Toby alive.”
Dante pulled out the chair opposite me. His broad shoulders seemed too large for the little room. “His surgeons are making their decisions based on his condition. The foundation's assistance is confirmed. Nobody can use that contribution to force you into anything.”
I studied him. “Not even you?”
“Especially not me.”
I wanted to believe those words. But believing a man with blood on his hands felt like walking across ice and pretending I couldn't hear it crack.
That afternoon, I stayed with Toby while Dante and his security chief, Marco Bellini, went to inspect the metal box recovered from the old Vancel estate. I insisted they leave it unopened until I arrived. Dante agreed, though I could tell he disliked the delay.
Toby was drawing when I returned to his bedside. His crayons were scattered across the blanket, and he had made a new list: THINGS ELLIE NEEDS.
The first item was sleep. The second was pancakes. The third was a boyfriend who smiled.
I snorted. “You really need a new hobby.”
He grinned. “Dante smiles sometimes.”
“Sometimes.”
“Maybe you can teach him.”
I brushed his hair away from his forehead. “I'm more worried about teaching you to stop matchmaking from a hospital bed.”
He considered this. “Okay. I'll wait until after surgery.”
The laugh escaped before I could stop it. Then I hugged him carefully, listening to the monitor and trying not to imagine the silence that could replace its steady beeping.
Dr. Hart came in with an updated surgical plan. She explained the risks without softening them, answered Toby's questions, and reminded me that the team had prepared for complications. Toby asked whether he could still go to the beach afterward. She smiled and told him that recovery would take time, but that the goal was to help him do more of the things he loved.
After she left, Toby took my hand. “Are you scared?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Me too.”
We sat quietly together. It was the first time I had told him the truth without trying to turn it into reassurance.
At dusk, Dante called. “The box is secure. There's something else you should know before you come.”
“What?”
“My engagement was announced six months ago.”
I blinked. “Your what?”
“It's a business arrangement. Isabella Sloane and I were expected to marry as part of a settlement between our families.”
The room seemed to tilt. “The same Isabella whose name Greg mentioned?”
“Yes.”
“The daughter of the man hunting me?”
“Yes.”
I stood so abruptly that Toby looked up. I walked into the corridor before answering. “You brought me into your house while you were engaged to her?”
“The engagement is being dissolved.”
“Does she know?”
“She knows I intend to end it.”
“That's not an answer.”
Dante exhaled. “She refused to accept it.”
A woman laughed somewhere behind him. Smooth, low, and cold.
“Dante,” she said, close enough for me to hear, “are you talking to your little maid?”
The line went silent for a second.
Then Dante said, “Isabella. Leave my office.”
My skin prickled. “She's there?”
“Her father sent her without an invitation.”
The woman spoke again. “Tell Elena I can't wait to meet her.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen, feeling a dread that had nothing to do with jealousy. A woman who knew my manager, whose father had hunted my mother, was standing inside Dante's private office. And Dante had waited until now to tell me she existed.
An hour later, I arrived at the Vancel estate with Marco. The mansion glowed against the night, every window a square of warm gold. Cars lined the circular driveway. Through the tall glass doors, I could see women in evening gowns and men in tuxedos carrying drinks beneath crystal chandeliers.
“What's happening?” I asked.
Marco's mouth tightened. “A reception. It was scheduled weeks ago.”
“For the engagement?”
He said nothing. That was answer enough.
I nearly turned back. But the metal box with my name on it was somewhere inside, and I was done allowing strangers to decide which parts of my life I could know.
Margaret met us at the entrance. “Miss Vance, Mr. Vancel asked me to take you through the east hallway.”
“Why?”
“To avoid the guests.”
I looked at the ballroom. “No. I want to know exactly what I'm walking into.”
Margaret hesitated, then nodded. “Very well.”
I entered through the main doors.
Conversation shifted around me. I wore a simple blue dress borrowed from a hospital volunteer and the same worn shoes I'd had on all week. I could feel the difference between my clothes and the silk around me, but I kept my chin high.
Dante stood near the fireplace, surrounded by men who seemed eager for his attention. Beside him was a blonde woman in a red satin gown, one hand resting possessively on his arm.
She was beautiful in the polished, deliberate way of someone who had never had to ask what anything cost.
Her gaze found me immediately.
She smiled.
Then she began walking toward me.
“Elena Vance,” she said, extending a manicured hand. “I've heard so much about you.”
I didn't take it. “Isabella Sloane?”
“That's right.” Her smile sharpened. “And you must be the girl who thinks she can replace me.”
“I came for something that belongs to my mother.”
“Of course you did.” She glanced at my shoes. “You poor thing. Always looking for something someone else has.”
Heat rose in my face. Around us, conversations quieted.
“Move,” I said.
Isabella laughed. “Oh, she has claws.”
She reached for a passing waiter's tray, lifted a glass of red wine, and tilted it toward my dress. I stepped back. The wine spilled onto the marble instead.
The waiter froze.
Isabella looked down at the puddle, then at me. “Look what you've done.”
“I didn't touch you.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“I'm telling you what happened.”
She raised her voice. “This girl is trespassing. Someone escort her out.”
Two guards approached. Neither looked comfortable.
Then Dante's voice cut through the ballroom.
“Stop.”
He crossed the room, his face unreadable. “Elena is my guest.”
Isabella placed a hand on his chest. “Darling, she's causing a scene.”
“You caused the scene.”
A collective silence settled over the room.
Isabella's smile vanished. “You would embarrass me for her?”
“I won't allow you to humiliate anyone in my home.”
“Your home?” She laughed sharply. “My father has invested millions in your companies.”
“Those investments are being reviewed. Our engagement is over.”
The words fell like glass breaking.
Isabella went pale. “You can't do this here.”
“You made it necessary here.”
She looked at me with such naked hatred that I took an involuntary step backward.
Then she smiled again. “You think he chose you, Elena? Ask him what he was paid to do the night your mother died.”
Dante's expression hardened. “Enough.”
Isabella leaned close enough that only I could hear her next words.
“Your little brother won't live long enough to see you learn the truth.”
I grabbed her wrist before I knew what I was doing. “What did you say?”
She winced. “Get your hands off me!”
Dante stepped between us. “Elena?”
“She threatened Toby.”
Isabella's eyes widened with practiced innocence. “I said nothing of the kind.”
I looked at Dante. He had to believe me. For a moment his silence felt unbearable.
Then he turned to Marco. “Preserve the security recordings. Isabella leaves now.”
“You're making a mistake,” she hissed.
“Possibly,” Dante said. “But it won't be the mistake of ignoring a threat against a child.”
Marco escorted her away while the guests pretended not to stare.
Dante turned to me. “I'm sorry.”
I shook my head. “You should have told me she would be here.”
“Yes.”
“I'm not a piece in your fight with her.”
“No,” he said. “You're not.”
I held his gaze. “Then show me the box.”
We entered the private office together. The metal box sat on the desk, its lid engraved with my name. A small lock gleamed at the front.
Dante placed it before me. “Marco found it behind the rose pedestal. No one has opened it.”
I ran my fingers over the engraving. The letters were uneven, as though someone had scratched them by hand.
“It's my mother's writing,” I whispered. “She used to carve our initials into the backs of picture frames.”
I tried the clasp. Locked.
“The key,” Dante said.
I thought of the little silver key stolen from my apartment. “Someone took it.”
“Then we can have a specialist open the box in your presence.”
I nodded, disappointed and relieved at once. I wasn't sure I was ready for whatever waited inside.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number showed a photograph of Toby asleep in his hospital bed. It had been taken from the doorway only minutes earlier.
Beneath it were four words:
YOUR CHOICE. HIS HEART.
I screamed Dante's name.
He looked at the screen, then called the hospital. I heard him demand a security check and ask for Toby's nurse. He never raised his voice, but his knuckles whitened around the phone.
Minutes passed. Finally, he lowered it.
“Toby is safe. The photo was taken before security restricted the corridor. They're checking who had access.”
I sank into a chair. “She can reach him.”
“We don't know who sent it.”
“Isabella threatened him.”
“I know.”
“Then stop telling me what you don't know and help me.”
Dante crouched in front of me, bringing his eyes level with mine. “I will. But you need to understand something. Protecting Toby doesn't mean letting me decide everything for you. We will tell hospital security and the police about the threat. You will stay informed.”
I searched his face. “And if that isn't enough?”
“Then we keep looking for whoever is behind this. We don't stop.”
The office door opened. Marco entered carrying a tablet.
“Boss, we've identified the phone that sent the picture. It was registered under a false name, but the payment trail connects to an account used by Isabella's personal assistant.”
Dante rose slowly. “Find the assistant. Bring the evidence to the police.”
Marco hesitated. “There's more. Someone used the same account to arrange a private transfer request for Toby.”
My blood ran cold.
“And,” Marco continued, “the request included an authorization code from inside the hospital.”
Dante looked at him. “An employee?”
“Possibly. We're verifying it.”
I stared at the box on the desk. My mother had left me a mystery. Isabella had turned it into a weapon.
Then a new message appeared on my phone.
This one contained no photograph. Just a time and a place.
MIDNIGHT. THE OLD CONSERVATORY. COME ALONE IF YOU WANT THE KEY BACK.
Underneath was an image of the missing silver key resting on a woman's palm.
I looked at Dante, then at the message. If I showed him, he would insist on a plan. If I didn't, I might lose my only chance to open the box.
I had spent years being brave because Toby needed me to be.
Now I was about to learn that bravery and recklessness could look terrifyingly alike.
May you like
And somewhere beyond the mansion walls, a woman in red was waiting for me to make the wrong choice.
END OF CHAPTER 4.
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