Chapter 3 - She Returned to the Mafia Boss With Divorce Papers—Then His Uncle Put a Gun to Her Father’s HeadFor the first time in his adult life, Dante Moretti dismantled his own organization to find one man.
Vittorio.
His uncle.
His father's brother.
The man who taught him to shoot.
The man who stood beside him at his father's funeral.
The man Dante had trusted more than almost anyone alive.
Sal uncovered the first betrayal before midnight.
Three Moretti captains had been reporting to Vittorio.
Two accountants.
A police lieutenant.
One federal agent.
By sunrise, Dante understood the truth.
He had inherited the throne.
Vittorio had kept the kingdom.
Dante stared at Northstar records spread across his desk.
Then Sal asked the question no one else would.
“What about Elena?”
Dante closed his eyes.
“What about her?”
“You loved her.”
Dante said nothing.
“Do you still?”
“I don't know.”
It was the truth.
Elena had been his escape.
With Cordelia, he had always felt the weight of what he was pretending to be.
Respectable.
Controlled.
Worthy.
Elena already knew the worst parts.
So he didn't have to pretend.
He had mistaken that ease for something pure.
Now he understood Elena had been pretending too.
That didn't erase four years.
But it changed them.
“What about your wife?” Sal asked.
Dante looked at Cordelia's ring in his palm.
“I love her.”
Sal's eyebrows rose.
“You married her for business.”
“Yes.”
“You cheated on her.”
“Yes.”
“On your wedding night.”
Dante's jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Sal leaned back.
“Boss, with respect, you are terrible at love.”
Dante almost shot him.
Instead, he laughed.
Once.
Bitterly.
“Yes.”
Cordelia returned to Boston three days later.
Not for Dante.
For her father.
Patricia had traced one of Vittorio's calls to a warehouse near the harbor.
Federal agents were moving slowly because corrupt officials remained inside the investigation.
Cordelia didn't trust them.
She trusted evidence.
And herself.
Dante learned she was back only when she entered Moretti headquarters.
Every man in the room became silent.
Cordelia wore black.
No wedding ring.
No fear.
Dante stood.
“Cordelia.”
She placed an envelope on his desk.
Divorce papers.
The room seemed to disappear.
“Sign them.”
Dante stared at the envelope.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Your father—”
“Has nothing to do with our marriage.”
“Cordelia.”
“You told another woman our marriage was business.”
His face tightened.
“It was.”
The honesty hurt, but she had asked for truth.
“At first,” Dante continued.
She laughed.
“Don't.”
“I'm not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I'm telling you that somewhere between planning a useful marriage and standing beside you at your mother's grave—”
“Don't use my mother.”
Dante stopped immediately.
Cordelia's eyes filled.
“You do not get to turn my real memories into evidence that your lie became love.”
He looked destroyed.
Good.
She needed him to understand.
“I loved you.”
His voice lowered.
“I know.”
“No, Dante.”
She stepped closer.
“I loved you without a second life.”
“I loved you believing you were where you said you were.”
“I loved you while you were teaching another woman which hotel rooms you preferred.”
“I loved you while you laughed with her about how useful my name would be.”
Dante looked down.
Cordelia continued.
“Do you understand the difference?”
“Yes.”
“You had information.”
“I had faith.”
Her voice broke.
“You had choices.”
“I had a performance.”
Dante could have survived anger.
Her grief nearly destroyed him.
He opened the divorce papers.
Signed.
No negotiation.
Cordelia stared.
She hadn't expected it.
Dante pushed them back.
“You asked me once whether I'd ever keep you somewhere you didn't want to be.”
She remembered.
Early in their relationship.
His dangerous reputation had frightened her.
He had promised:
Never.
Dante looked at the signed papers.
“I already broke enough promises.”
Cordelia picked them up.
Something inside her hurt worse.
Why did him doing the right thing now feel almost cruel?
Sal entered before either could speak.
“Boss.”
His expression was grim.
“We found Ashford.”
Cordelia turned.
“Where?”
“Harbor warehouse.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Relief nearly collapsed her.
“But Vittorio knows we're coming.”
Dante took his coat.
“You stay here.”
Cordelia stared.
He stopped.
Then almost smiled bitterly.
“Sorry.”
He corrected himself.
“Would you stay here?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
She followed.
The warehouse smelled of salt, oil, and rust.
Cordelia entered beside Dante.
Sal's men surrounded the exterior.
Patricia had sent copies of Northstar to three separate law firms with instructions to release everything if Cordelia disappeared.
Insurance.
Vittorio waited inside.
Senator Ashford sat tied to a chair.
Bruised.
Alive.
“Dad.”
“Cordelia, no.”
Vittorio smiled.
“Beautiful.”
Dante stepped forward.
“Let him go.”
“My nephew.”
Vittorio sounded almost affectionate.
“You've become sentimental.”
“You've become stupid.”
“Have I?”
Vittorio raised a gun to Senator Ashford's head.
Dante stopped.
Vittorio looked at Cordelia.
“The drive.”
She held up the bracelet.
“Let my father go.”
“First the drive.”
“No.”
Dante glanced at her.
Cordelia didn't look at him.
Vittorio smiled.
“You married well, Dante.”
Dante's answer came quietly.
“I did.”
Cordelia's heart betrayed her with one painful beat.
Vittorio continued.
“Did he tell you why Elena was necessary?”
Cordelia froze.
Dante's expression changed.
“What are you talking about?”
“Elena wasn't merely your mistress.”
Vittorio laughed.
“She was insurance.”
“For what?”
“Against your wife.”
Cordelia frowned.
Vittorio looked at Dante.
“You were becoming soft.”
“I needed someone close enough to keep you distracted.”
Dante went still.
“You recruited Elena.”
“Of course.”
“Four years ago.”
“Yes.”
Before Cordelia.
Before the marriage plan.
Vittorio had built layers around Dante.
Control disguised as affection.
“Her sister?” Cordelia asked.
“Useful leverage.”
“You're disgusting.”
Vittorio shrugged.
“I'm practical.”
He turned toward Dante.
“Your father understood practicality.”
Dante's face changed.
“My father?”
Vittorio smiled.
Then delivered the blow.
“Your father didn't die from a heart attack.”
Silence.
“I poisoned him.”
Dante did not move.
Cordelia looked at him.
Nothing.
No visible reaction.
That frightened her.
Vittorio continued.
“He was going legitimate.”
“He wanted out.”
“He planned to dismantle everything we built.”
“So I stopped him.”
Dante's voice became almost inaudible.
“You killed your brother.”
“Yes.”
“And raised me afterward.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were useful.”
The same word Dante had effectively used for Cordelia.
Useful.
Cordelia saw it hit him.
Saw him understand what it felt like to discover that love had been strategy.
Vittorio smiled.
“You and your bride have more in common than you realized.”
Dante looked at Cordelia.
For the first time, he truly understood.
Not intellectually.
Emotionally.
The floor beneath every memory shifting.
He had done that to her.
Cordelia saw realization destroy something inside him.
Then Vittorio pulled the trigger.
The gun clicked.
Empty.
Senator Ashford moved.
He slammed his chair backward into Vittorio.
Dante lunged.
Gunfire erupted from the upper platform.
Cordelia dropped.
Sal's men returned fire.
Vittorio ran.
Dante chased him.
Cordelia crawled to her father.
“Dad.”
“I'm fine.”
“You're bleeding.”
“Mostly someone else's dignity.”
Even now.
She almost laughed.
Then a gunshot exploded from the catwalk.
Dante stumbled.
“Dante!”
Cordelia ran before she could stop herself.
He fell against the railing.
Blood spread across his side.
Vittorio raised his weapon again.
Elena appeared behind him.
No one knew where she'd come from.
She struck Vittorio's arm.
The gun fired into the ceiling.
Sal tackled him.
Agents entered seconds later.
It ended with Vittorio Moretti on the floor.
Handcuffed.
Screaming.
Dante lay bleeding.
Cordelia pressed both hands against his wound.
“Stay awake.”
He looked at her.
“Divorced.”
“What?”
“You divorced me.”
“You haven't filed them yet.”
A faint smile.
“So technically…”
“Dante.”
“Sorry.”
His face went pale.
Cordelia pressed harder.
He winced.
“You're hurting me.”
“Good.”
“Core.”
She froze.
Then let him say it.
“I am sorry.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“For the affair?”
“For making you question whether any moment between us was real.”
His breathing became shallow.
“I don't know how to fix that.”
“You can't.”
“I know.”
“Stop talking.”
“Cordelia.”
“What?”
“If I don't—”
“You will.”
“If I don't…”
His hand found hers.
“Everything legitimate is yours.”
She almost screamed.
“I don't want your money.”
“I know.”
“Then stop giving me things.”
His eyes closed.
“What do you want?”
Cordelia looked at the man who had broken her heart.
The man who had used her.
The man she still, against every rational instinct, did not want to die.
May you like
“Live long enough to learn why that's the wrong question.”
Then Dante lost consciousness.
Related Stories
