Chapter 2 - Skeletons in the Foundation
Three slow knocks sounded against the wood.
Not the frantic tapping Sophie had heard at her window. This was measured. Deliberate.
"Elena. Open the door. It’s me."
Dante’s voice was strained, hoarse with adrenaline. I scrambled up, my fingers slick with cold sweat as I twisted the brass deadbolts. The door swung open.
Dante stood under the chandelier light, breathing heavily. His knuckles were raw and split, smeared with fresh crimson, and a dark tear ran down the seam of his left shoulder. But he was alive, and the cold mask of control had settled back over his sharp jaw. Behind him stood Marco, his head of personal security, looking grim and holding a tactical radio.
"Is he...?" The question caught in my throat.
"He won't be knocking on any more windows," Dante said flatly, stepping past me into the room. He knelt down beside Sophie, his large frame shrinking down to her eye level. The sheer gentleness of the gesture struck me like a physical blow. Dante Moretti did not kneel for anyone.
"Sophie," he said, keeping his voice quiet and level. "You did good tonight. You and Bruno kept your mama safe. I have men watching the hallway now. Nobody gets near this door. Do you believe me?"
Sophie peeked out from behind her star pillow, sniffing quietly. She looked at Dante's bloody knuckles, then up into his dark eyes. Slowly, she nodded. "Can Bruno stay until the sun comes up?"
"Bruno stays as long as you want him to," Dante promised. He stood up, turning to Marco. "Take them up to the master suite. Put four men outside the entrance. If anyone other than my mother or myself approaches that door, shoot first."
"Understood, boss," Marco replied, motioning for Sophie and me to follow.
"Wait," I said, stepping between Dante and the door. My terror had curdled into something hotter, sharper. "You don't get to order me into another locked room until you tell me what just happened down there. Who was that man? And why did he mention Miguel?"
Dante’s jaw tightened. The silence stretched between us until Marco quietly backed out of the room, taking Sophie and Bruno into the adjoining hallway.
When the door clicked shut, Dante closed his eyes for a brief second, running a hand over his face. When he opened them, the ruthless mob prince was gone. In his place was a man weighed down by three years of suffocating guilt.
"His name was Victor Cole," Dante said quietly, leaning his back against his heavy desk. "He was a former captain for the Rossi family. Three years ago, when the Rossis tried to muscle in on our Brooklyn territory, my father ordered a retaliatory strike on their operations."
My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. "The bakery."
"The bakery was a front for a Rossi laundering hub," Dante confessed, every word sounding like it was being ripped from his throat. "My father sent a clean-up crew to shut it down. But the Rossis knew we were coming. They staged an ambush in the street. Your husband... Miguel wasn't an innocent bystander caught in crossfire, Elena."
My breath hitched. "What are you talking about? He was an accountant! He went to buy bread on his lunch break!"
"He went to meet with federal agents," Dante corrected gently, watching my face crumble. "Miguel discovered that his accounting firm was cooking the books for the Rossis. He was trying to deliver flash drives to the FBI to protect you and Sophie. But the Rossis found out. They didn't just ambush my crew that afternoon—they executed your husband before my men even arrived."
Tears blurred my vision. The floor felt unstable beneath my feet. "Why... why did your mother bring me here? Why give me a job, a cottage, a life?"
"Because Miguel died holding a file meant for me," Dante said, stepping closer until only inches separated us. "He knew our family had influence. He was trying to warn us that the Rossis had placed moles inside the police department and our own ranks. My mother couldn't save Miguel. But she swore on her soul that his widow and daughter would never starve, never be touched, and never live in fear."
"And that man tonight?" I choked out. "Victor Cole?"
"The last surviving Rossi loyalist," Dante said, his dark eyes blazing with dangerous fire. "He spent three years looking for the leverage Miguel left behind. He thought Miguel hid the files with you. He bought his way onto my grounds through an old underground smuggling tunnel from the Prohibition era. He watched you. He watched Sophie."
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Dante reached out, his thumb catching a falling tear on my cheek. His touch was warm, steady, and shockingly tender.
"He wanted to break me by taking what I swore to protect," Dante whispered fiercely. "He will never get that chance. Not as long as I draw breath."
