Chapter 4 - Echoes of the Past
Days turned into weeks. The estate was vast, filled with quiet libraries, manicured gardens, and guards who monitored every doorway with silent vigilance. I slowly regained my strength, spent my afternoons teaching Matteo how to draw, and tried to ignore the growing pull I felt toward his father.
Dante was a monster to the outside world—a ruthless kingpin who ruled the city with an iron fist. But inside these walls, I saw a different man. I saw a father who tucked his son into bed every night, a man carrying the crushing weight of a bloody legacy he hadn't asked for, and a protector whose gaze lingered on me longer than it should have.
One evening, while reading in the library, the tall double doors swung open, but it wasn't Dante who entered.
It was Michael.
My ex-fiancé stood in the doorway, his clothes disheveled, his face pale with terror, flanked by two of Dante’s armed enforcers.
"Clara!" Michael gasped, trying to step toward me before a guard shoved him back. "Oh God, Clara, tell them you know me! Tell them!"
I stood up, my pulse racing. "Michael? What are you doing here?"
Dante stepped out from the shadows near the balcony, his hands buried deep in his trousers pockets. His expression was cold, dead, and lethal.
"Your former lover owes three hundred thousand dollars to a syndicate affiliated with my enemies," Dante said calmly, walking toward us. "He offered them information on Aurelios in exchange for erasing his debt. He was the one who gave them the blueprint of the dining room."
I stared at Michael in utter disbelief. The man I had once loved, the man who had stolen my savings and my engagement ring, had indirectly put a target on a child's back—and mine.
"Clara, please!" Michael sobbed, falling to his knees. "I didn't know they were going to hurt anyone! I was just desperate!"
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"You put glass in her back," Dante said softly, though the silence in the room stretched razor-thin. He reached under his jacket, drew a sleek black pistol, and pointed it casually at Michael's forehead. "You made her bleed."
"Dante, wait!" I cried out, stepping between the barrel and Michael.
