By morning, Dante’s house had changed.
Security doubled.
Curtains remained closed.
Three unfamiliar men stood in the hallway.
Another guarded the stairs.
Dante personally checked every room Noah entered.
The feared billionaire mafia boss had become something much more dangerous.
A terrified father.
And terrified men with power made unpredictable choices.
I cornered Dante in the kitchen.
“We can’t stay here forever.”
“We won’t.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Finding Moretti.”
“And then?”
His eyes met mine.
I knew what he was capable of.
“No.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“Yes, I do.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“I’m not discussing this with you.”
“You’re discussing it because Noah is the reason.”
“He threatened my son.”
“Our son.”
The word escaped before I could stop it.
Dante went silent.
So did I.
Our son.
First time I had said it.
Something changed between us.
Dante stepped closer.
“Say it again.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“This isn’t romantic.”
“I know.”
“He’s not a bridge between us.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t fix what happened.”
“I know.”
“Then stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like fourteen months disappeared.”
“They didn’t.”
The answer was quiet.
“I missed his first smile.”
I said nothing.
“His first tooth.”
Silence.
“His first birthday.”
My throat tightened.
Dante looked away.
“Did he walk yet?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
His expression crumpled for half a second.
Then control returned.
I hated seeing the grief.
Because I had caused some of it.
I reminded myself why.
“Dante.”
“Yes?”
“I was scared.”
He looked at me.
“I know.”
“No. I need you to understand. I didn’t hide him to punish you.”
“I know.”
“I thought I was protecting him.”
Dante nodded slowly.
“Then we were trying to do the same thing.”
Before I could respond, Vince entered carrying a folder.
“We found something.”
Dante’s demeanor changed instantly.
“What?”
“Moretti’s people weren’t the first ones watching Claire.”
My skin prickled.
“What does that mean?”
Vince opened the folder.
Inside were copies of bank records.
“One of the payments predates Noah’s birth.”
Dante stared.
“How far?”
“Sixteen months.”
I felt sick.
“That was before I disappeared.”
Vince nodded.
“Someone started monitoring Claire shortly after the night at Bellavista.”
“Who?”
“We still don’t know.”
Dante picked up another page.
“What about this account?”
“Belongs to a security firm.”
“Whose firm?”
Vince hesitated.
“Russo Holdings.”
The room went silent.
Dante’s eyes lifted slowly.
“What?”
“Someone used internal money.”
My stomach dropped.
“You mean somebody working for you followed me?”
Dante looked furious.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I backed away.
Every fear I had held returned.
Dante approached.
“Claire.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t order it.”
“How do I know?”
His face went blank.
The accusation hurt him.
I could see it.
But I could not take it back.
“You think I knew about Noah?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“If I knew—”
“You would have come.”
“Yes.”
“That’s exactly what scared me.”
Dante closed his mouth.
Vince spoke carefully.
“There’s something else.”
Dante turned.
“The authorization code belongs to someone who died eleven months ago.”
“Who?”
“Paul Garrison.”
Dante stared.
I recognized the name.
Not from crime reports.
From Bellavista.
“Wait.”
Both men looked at me.
“Paul came into the restaurant.”
Dante frowned.
“When?”
“Before I left.”
“How often?”
“Three or four times.”
“What did he want?”
“Nothing unusual.”
“Claire.”
“I served him dinner.”
“Did he ask about you?”
I thought.
Then remembered.
“He asked whether I had family in Boston.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“What did you say?”
“That my mother lived outside Providence.”
Vince swore.
My pulse quickened.
“He asked whether I lived alone too.”
Dante looked ready to break something.
“Paul worked security for me,” he said.
“Why would he watch me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe he suspected I was pregnant.”
“That early?”
“I didn’t know myself.”
Vince flipped through the folder.
“Paul was found dead four months after Claire disappeared.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Dante’s face darkened.
“You don’t believe that anymore.”
“No.”
The investigation turned inward.
Dante spent the next day questioning people from his own organization.
No shouting.
No dramatic threats.
That calm frightened me more.
He sat behind a desk while one man after another entered.
Some emerged pale.
Others angry.
By evening, Vince brought a name.
Anthony Serrano.
Dante’s chief financial adviser.
One of his oldest associates.
“He authorized the payments through Garrison’s credentials,” Vince said.
“Why?”
“He hasn’t admitted anything.”
“Where is he?”
“Coming.”
Anthony arrived at nine.
He was fifty, silver-haired, expensive suit, composed smile.
He saw me.
His smile vanished.
That was enough.
Dante noticed.
“So,” Dante said softly, “you know Claire.”
Anthony hesitated.
“I’ve seen her.”
“Where?”
“Bellavista.”
“How?”
“Everyone knows Bellavista.”
Dante leaned back.
“Wrong answer.”
Anthony’s eyes moved toward me.
Then Noah, asleep in a portable crib near the fireplace.
He went pale.
Dante saw that too.
“Now you know why you’re here.”
Anthony swallowed.
“Dante.”
“Tell me.”
Silence.
Vince closed the door.
Anthony’s shoulders sagged.
“I was trying to protect you.”
Dante’s expression changed.
“From what?”
“From weakness.”
My stomach twisted.
Anthony looked at me.
“You were distracted after meeting her.”
“One night.”
“You went back to the restaurant four times.”
I stared at Dante.
He had returned?
I never knew.
“I thought she was trying to get close to you,” Anthony continued.
“So you had her followed?”
“Yes.”
Dante stood.
Anthony stepped back.
“Then she disappeared.”
“And you kept watching.”
“I needed to know why.”
“You discovered the pregnancy.”
Anthony said nothing.
Dante’s face drained of color.
“You knew.”
Still silence.
“You knew she was pregnant with my child.”
Anthony’s voice cracked.
“I suspected.”
“For fourteen months?”
“I was trying to prevent a war.”
Dante moved closer.
“You let me believe she disappeared because she regretted me.”
Anthony swallowed.
“She was safer away from you.”
The irony hit me like ice.
That was my belief too.
Dante looked at Anthony as though seeing him for the first time.
“You made that choice for me.”
“For the family.”
“No.”
Dante’s voice became almost gentle.
“You made it for yourself.”
Anthony’s face shifted.
And I knew.
Dante knew too.
“You sold the information to Moretti.”
Anthony did not answer.
Vince stepped forward.
“How much?”
Anthony laughed bitterly.
“Enough.”
Dante’s eyes turned cold.
“You gave him photographs of Claire and Noah.”
“He didn’t know the boy was yours.”
“But now he does.”
Anthony shook his head.
“I never told him.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Dante glanced at the photograph.
“Tonight at Bellavista did the rest.”
Anthony’s eyes widened.
“He was there?”
“Someone was.”
Dante stepped closer.
Anthony suddenly reached inside his jacket.
Everything happened at once.
Vince lunged.
Dante shoved me backward.
Anthony produced not a gun but a phone.
He smashed it against the desk.
Vince tackled him.
The phone shattered.
Anthony laughed.
“You think Moretti cares about the child?”
Dante seized his collar.
“What does he care about?”
Anthony stared at him.
“You.”
Dante went still.
“He knows you’ll destroy your empire to protect the boy.”
Anthony smiled.
“And that’s exactly what he wants.”