Chapter 5 - The Gathering Storm
"You are not taking Eli to a mafia sit-down!" I yelled, slamming my hand onto the study table after Marco left the room. "Are you out of your mind, Dante? He's seven years old!"
"Nora, listen to me," Dante said calmly, walking over and placing his hands firmly on my shoulders to ground me. "In our world, weakness is an invitation for execution. If Leo and Valenti convince the Commission that Eli is a fake or that I am compromised, they will hunt us down forever. The only way to protect him—the only way to end this permanently—is to show them that the Moretti bloodline is absolute."
"He is a child, not a political statement!" I cried, tears of rage and terror streaming down my face.
"I will not let a single hair on his head be harmed," Dante promised, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "I have fifty heavily armed men surrounding the neutral territory. The Commission operates under strict ancient laws: no weapons inside the chamber, no violence on neutral ground. I need to walk in there, show the Capos that my heir is alive and real, and strip Leo of his support."
I looked into Dante's eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. I saw only the fierce, terrifying protectiveness of a father who had just realized what he had to live for.
"If anything happens to him, Dante," I whispered, my voice trembling, "I will never forgive you."
"If anything happens to him," Dante replied coldly, "I won't survive to ask for your forgiveness."
An hour later, Eli was dressed in a sharp black velvet jacket and trousers that Mrs. Gable had retrieved from the estate’s storage—outfits once worn by Dante himself at that age. Eli looked in the mirror, turning to me with a wide grin.
"Look, Mom! I look like a prince!" he exclaimed, blissfully unaware of the dangerous game he was being pulled into.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile, kneeling down to adjust his collar. "You look beautiful, sweetie. Remember what we talked about? You stay right next to Dante, hold his hand, and don't talk unless he asks you a question."
"Is Dante my dad?" Eli asked suddenly, his bright gray eyes searching mine with innocent curiosity.
The room fell completely silent. Dante, standing near the doorway, froze, catching his breath.
I looked up at Dante, seeing the raw vulnerability in his eyes, then looked back at my son. "Yes, Eli. He's your father."
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Eli blinked, thinking it over for a second, then smiled warmly. "I knew it. He has the same eyes as me in the mirror."
Dante knelt beside us, his hand trembling slightly as he placed it on Eli's small shoulder. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long, Eli. But I'm here now. And I will never leave you again."
