Chapter 4 - The Dinner of Betrayal and the Ultimate UltimatumThe dining room chandelier cast a glittering, cold light over the mahogany table. Fine crystal and silver tableware reflected the tense, electric atmosphere. At the head of the table sat Dante, his expression carved from stone, flanked on one side by his mother and on the other by Marcus Vance—a slick, sharp-suited man with predator’s eyes and an oily smile.
I sat at the opposite end of the table, wearing a dark emerald dress that matched the cool fire in my veins. I hadn't told Dante about the ledgers yet; I wanted to see how far Katarina was willing to push her treason.
“A magnificent estate, Dante,” Vance purred, swirling his red wine. “Though I hear rumors that the foundation is getting a bit... cluttered. Too much modern influence. A syndicate like yours needs iron, not velvet.”
Dante didn’t blink. “My household, my rules, Marcus. If you came here to talk business about the docks, speak plainly. If you came to comment on my domestic arrangements, finish your wine and get out.”
Vance chuckled, casting a sideways glance at Katarina, who sat smugly sipping her drink. “Just looking out for old times' sake, my friend. Your mother agrees that the Moretti family is losing its edge. In fact, she showed me some very interesting documents this afternoon—proposals for asset restructuring that suggest someone in this house is preparing a parachute.”
Everything stopped. The air left the room.
Dante slowly turned his head toward his mother. The silence that followed was heavier than a loaded gun.
Katarina didn’t flinch. She met her son’s gaze with absolute, unyielding coldness. “It’s true, Dante. Elena is dragging us into legitimacy at the cost of our protection. She doesn't belong in this world. She never did. Vance offered us a partnership that respects our history. All she has to do is sign the annulment papers I had drawn up this afternoon, pack her bags, and leave.”
She slid a thick white envelope across the mahogany table. It stopped right in front of Dante’s water glass.
Vance grinned like a wolf.
I sat frozen, my fingers gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles turned white. This was it. The ultimate test. All those months of quiet endurance, of building a life with a man I loved despite his dark world—it boiled down to this single moment. Would Dante fold to family tradition and syndicate pressure?
Dante looked down at the white envelope. Then he looked at his mother. Then, very slowly, he stood up.
The chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.
May you like
He didn’t look at Vance. He didn’t look at the envelope. He walked around the table until he stood directly behind my chair, placing his large, warm hand firmly on my shoulder.
Then, Dante looked dead into his mother’s eyes.
