Chapter 2 - I LEFT MY MAFIA HUSBAND BEFORE SUNRISE—BUT THE SECRET DOCUMENT HIDDEN INSIDE AN OLD PAINTING REVEALED WHY HIS EX-FIANCÉE HAD REALLY RETURNED
By four thirty, the rain had stopped.
I carried my suitcase downstairs.
The mansion was silent.
Dante's office door stood closed.
Two guards waited near the front entrance.
One of them, a young man named Anthony, looked surprised.
"Mrs. Moretti?"
"I'm leaving."
He glanced at the suitcase.
"Does Mr. Moretti know?"
"No."
Anthony hesitated.
"I should call him."
"You can tell him after I leave."
"Ma'am—"
"Anthony, I'm not asking permission."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then stepped aside.
"Drive carefully."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
I walked through the front doors without looking back.
***
My old apartment in Brooklyn had been rented out when I married Dante.
Fortunately, my friend Claire still had a spare bedroom.
She opened the door wearing pajamas and holding a mug of coffee.
One look at my face and she moved aside.
"Come in."
I stepped into the warm apartment.
Then started crying.
Claire wrapped her arms around me.
She didn't ask questions until I could breathe again.
When I finally explained what had happened, she listened quietly.
Then she said, "You can stay as long as you need."
I looked at her.
"I don't know what I'm going to do."
"First, you're going to sleep."
"And then?"
"Then we'll figure it out."
***
Dante called at seven twelve.
I didn't answer.
He called again.
And again.
At seven thirty-four, he sent a message.
BELLA, WHERE ARE YOU?
At seven forty-one:
PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE SAFE.
At eight:
I KNOW WHAT I SAID WAS WRONG.
I stared at the messages.
Then typed:
I'm safe. I need space. Do not send your men after me.
His reply came almost immediately.
I WON'T.
For the first time since I'd met him, Dante Moretti had accepted an answer he didn't like.
***
At the mansion, Dante stood in our empty bedroom.
My suitcase was gone.
My favorite books were missing.
The little silver jewelry box my grandmother had given me no longer sat on the dresser.
But the thing that hurt most was the folded note on his pillow.
Dante,
I never wanted to compete with your past.
I wanted to build a future with you.
But I cannot live in a house where my place disappears whenever you decide someone else's needs matter more.
I hope you understand someday that protecting me is not the same as respecting me.
Isabella.
Dante read it twice.
Then sat on the edge of the bed.
For years, he'd believed love meant making sure nobody could hurt the people he cared about.
He had never considered that he might be the person hurting them.
***
Marco entered the room an hour later.
"We found something."
Dante looked up.
"What?"
"The woman in the red coat wasn't attacked where she claimed."
Dante frowned.
"Explain."
"Dr. Harris examined her. The bruising was real, but her account doesn't match the available evidence."
"Are you saying she lied?"
"I'm saying she withheld information."
Dante stood.
"Where is she?"
"In the downstairs sitting room."
***
Valentina looked up when Dante entered.
He didn't sit.
"Who attacked you?"
She swallowed.
"I told you."
"Tell me again."
"Two men broke into my apartment."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Dante placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Valentina entering a private parking garage with a man wearing a gray coat.
The photograph had been taken two hours before she arrived at the mansion.
"Who's he?"
Valentina's face changed.
"Dante—"
"Who?"
She looked away.
"My brother."
Dante went still.
"Alessandro?"
Valentina nodded.
Alessandro Duca had disappeared six years earlier after the collapse of a business arrangement between the Duca and Moretti families.
Dante had believed him dead.
Now Valentina was telling him he was alive.
***
In Brooklyn, I spread the old document across Claire's kitchen table.
Claire leaned over my shoulder.
"What's this?"
"I found it inside a painting."
"Why would someone hide a document in a painting?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
I examined the numbers.
They looked like inventory codes.
But something about the pattern bothered me.
I worked as an art conservator.
My job required patience, attention to detail, and the ability to recognize when something had been altered.
The document had been folded several times.
Its ink had faded unevenly.
But beneath the original writing, someone had added a second layer of marks.
I used a magnifying lens from my restoration kit.
Then stopped.
"Claire."
She looked up.
"What?"
"These aren't inventory numbers."
"What are they?"
I swallowed.
"Shipping-container references."
***
I spent the next three hours researching the codes.
They corresponded to shipments that had passed through Moretti-controlled ports years earlier.
Several were connected to a company called Duca Maritime.
Others appeared in public records associated with a defunct import business.
The dates clustered around the year Dante and Valentina's engagement ended.
I felt my stomach tighten.
Then I noticed something else.
One container had been listed as carrying antique furniture.
But its declared value was more than fourteen million dollars.
Another supposedly contained marble tiles.
Its insurance value exceeded twenty million.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
***
At the mansion, Valentina finally told Dante the truth.
Her brother Alessandro had returned to New York.
He claimed to possess evidence that Dante's late father, Vittorio Moretti, had concealed millions of dollars in assets belonging to the Duca family.
"He wants what was stolen," Valentina whispered.
Dante stared at her.
"Then why come here?"
"Because he said the evidence was in this house."
Dante's expression hardened.
"Where?"
Valentina looked toward the hallway.
"The east wing."
Dante went silent.
***
I was preparing to call my attorney when another message arrived.
Unknown number.
A photograph.
This time it showed the entrance to Claire's apartment building.
My heart began pounding.
Then the message appeared.
YOU TOOK SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T BELONG TO YOU.
RETURN THE DOCUMENT.
I stared at the screen.
Someone knew about the painting.
Someone knew about the paper.
And someone knew exactly where I was.
***
I called Dante.
He answered before the first ring finished.
"Bella?"
I took a breath.
"Don't interrupt me."
"All right."
"Someone is watching me."
His voice changed.
"What?"
"I received photographs. Threats. They know where I'm staying."
Dante was silent for a second.
Then he said, "Are you safe right now?"
"I think so."
"Call the police."
"I already have."
"Good."
I closed my eyes.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"I found a document hidden inside one of your father's paintings."
Silence.
Then Dante asked:
"What document?"
I explained the shipping codes.
The Duca name.
The unusual insurance values.
When I finished, he said something I hadn't expected.
"Isabella, I think my father hid evidence of a crime."
My stomach dropped.
"And Valentina?"
Dante's voice hardened.
May you like
"I think she came back to find it."
END OF CHAPTER 2
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