Chapter 2 - The Secret Someone Wanted Found
Dante read the message twice.
Then he handed the phone to Elena.
Her face drained of color.
“That was taken outside his school.”
“I know.”
“You can see the blue fence.”
“I know.”
“Someone was watching him.”
Dante’s voice became frighteningly calm.
“Yes.”
Elena looked toward the nurses wheeling Luca away.
“Go with him,” Dante said.
She stared at him.
“What?”
“Stay with Luca.”
“And you?”
“I’m going to find out who sent that.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“You don’t disappear now.”
“I’m not disappearing.”
“That’s what men like you call it when you walk away to handle something.”
His eyes hardened.
“Men like me?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Dante stepped closer.
“Someone may have poisoned our son.”
“Our son?”
The words came sharper than she intended.
Dante absorbed them.
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to become his father because someone threatened him.”
“No. I became his father eight years ago. Apparently nobody bothered to tell me.”
“I tried.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
Elena looked toward the elevator where Luca had disappeared.
Not here.
Not now.
But there might never be a right time.
“Two years ago,” she said, “I came to your office with proof that someone inside your organization was stealing from you.”
Dante’s expression changed slightly.
“The ledger.”
“Yes.”
“You copied it.”
“I found it.”
“Where?”
“In my father’s old storage box.”
Dante’s jaw tightened at the mention of Carlo Moretti.
“My father had been dead for four years. I was clearing out a storage unit my aunt had kept paying for. There were records in there. Payments. Names. Accounts.”
“Salvatore accounts.”
“And Moretti accounts.”
“Why didn’t you bring them directly to me?”
“Because one name appeared in both.”
Dante waited.
Elena shook her head.
“I’m not saying it in a hallway.”
“Who?”
“Dante.”
“Who?”
She looked at him.
“Victor.”
The world seemed to narrow.
Victor Salvatore.
Dante’s uncle.
His father’s younger brother.
The man who had raised Dante after his father died.
The man who had stood beside Dante at every funeral, every negotiation, every war.
“No.”
“I knew you would say that.”
“My uncle handled logistics.”
“He handled more than logistics.”
“You’re accusing him based on old papers?”
“I’m telling you what I found.”
Dante shook his head once.
“You were connected to the Morettis.”
“I was a Moretti.”
“You hid that.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the first time we met, you told me Carlo Moretti deserved to die.”
Dante remembered.
A charity gala.
Elena had been using her mother’s maiden name, Rossi.
Dante had known her for twenty minutes.
They had been standing beside a balcony railing drinking champagne when a reporter mentioned the old Salvatore-Moretti conflict.
Dante, younger and angrier, had said Carlo Moretti had caused enough bloodshed for three lifetimes.
Elena had gone pale.
He had thought she was cold.
“I was going to tell you,” she said. “Then we became serious. Then Luca started asking why I smiled whenever you called. Every day I waited made it harder.”
Dante looked toward the ICU doors.
“He knew about me?”
“He knew there was someone.”
“Did he know my name?”
“No.”
“Then how did he call me Daddy?”
Elena’s shoulders sank.
“He saw your picture.”
“When?”
“A year ago.”
“Where?”
“I had one.”
Dante stared at her.
“You kept a picture of me?”
“I kept one mistake.”
“Was I the mistake?”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“No.”
The answer landed between them.
Neither spoke.
A security officer approached.
“Mr. Salvatore?”
Dante’s attention sharpened.
“Yes?”
“There are two men downstairs asking for you.”
“Names?”
“They wouldn’t give them.”
Dante’s guard Marco appeared from the elevator.
“We already checked. They’re ours.”
“Who?”
“Victor sent them.”
Elena went cold.
Dante saw it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
Elena shifted Mia higher against her shoulder.
“Victor knew where I lived.”
“When?”
“After you threw me out.”
Dante turned slowly.
“How?”
“He came to my apartment.”
“What did he want?”
“He said he was helping.”
Dante’s expression became unreadable.
“What kind of help?”
“Money. Protection. A place outside the city.”
“You took it?”
“No.”
“What did you tell him about Luca?”
“Nothing.”
“Did he see him?”
“Yes.”
Dante swore under his breath.
Elena continued.
“He asked if Luca was Carlo’s grandson.”
“And?”
“I said yes.”
“He asked who the father was?”
Elena hesitated.
Dante’s eyes fixed on her.
“Elena.”
“I lied.”
“What did you say?”
“That Luca’s father was dead.”
Dante closed his eyes briefly.
“Why?”
“Because Victor had just told me you wanted nothing to do with anyone connected to my family.”
“I never sent him.”
“I know that now.”
Dante opened his eyes.
“What else did he tell you?”
“That you had discovered I was pregnant when we met.”
“You weren’t.”
“I know.”
“That I believed Luca belonged to another man.”
“You never knew Luca existed.”
“I know.”
“That you had ordered him to make sure we disappeared.”
Dante stared at her.
“I never said any of that.”
“I know.”
“How long have you known?”
“About a year.”
His voice dropped.
“How?”
Elena’s eyes shifted toward the floor.
“I called you.”
“When?”
“Last September.”
Dante’s brow furrowed.
“I never got a call.”
“I didn’t reach you. I reached your office.”
“Who answered?”
“A woman.”
“Name?”
“She didn’t say.”
“What did she sound like?”
“Professional. Maybe forties.”
Dante thought.
His office had three women on staff.
One was twenty-six.
One was sixty-one.
The third was Victor’s executive assistant.
Teresa Vale.
Elena continued.
“I said I needed to speak to you about Luca.”
“What happened?”
“She put me on hold. Then a man came on.”
“Victor.”
“Yes.”
Dante’s face emptied.
“He told me if I called again, Luca might lose more than a father.”
For the first time since Dante entered the hospital, Elena saw genuine rage eclipse fear.
Not loud rage.
Not explosive.
Worse.
The quiet kind.
“He threatened my son.”
“He said it like advice.”
Dante took out his phone.
Elena grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“He threatened you.”
“Two years ago.”
“He threatened Luca.”
“Dante, if you start a war inside your family while Luca is upstairs—”
“There is already a war.”
“We don’t know that.”
He held up the photograph.
“Someone watched our son leave school.”
Elena flinched at our.
She hated how quickly the word began sounding natural.
Dante dialed Marco.
“Get every camera between Luca’s school and Elena’s apartment from the last seven days.”
Marco nodded.
“And find Teresa Vale.”
Marco stopped.
“Your uncle’s Teresa?”
“You heard me.”
“Alive?”
Elena looked sharply at Dante.
Dante’s eyes never left Marco.
“Bring her here. Nobody touches her.”
Marco left.
Elena exhaled slowly.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saying that last part.”
“I’m not the man you think I am.”
“I know exactly what man you are.”
“No, Elena. You know the man I was with you.”
“That should have been the best one.”
He had no answer.
The elevator opened.
Dr. Warren emerged.
Elena rushed toward him.
“Luca?”
“He’s stable for the moment.”
“For the moment?”
“We’ve moved him to intensive care. His heart function is severely reduced.”
Dante asked, “Toxicology?”
“We have a preliminary identification.”
“What was in him?”
“Digoxin.”
Elena stared.
“What is that?”
“A heart medication.”
Dante’s face changed.
The doctor continued.
“In controlled doses it can be useful. In excess, especially in someone who has no reason to be taking it, it can cause dangerous arrhythmias and gastrointestinal symptoms.”
“You’re saying he was poisoned.”
“I’m saying his level is inconsistent with accidental exposure.”
Elena covered Mia’s ear instinctively.
“Could he die?”
Dr. Warren did not soften the answer.
“Yes.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Dante asked, “Can you treat it?”
“There’s an antidote. We’ve already ordered it.”
“Ordered?”
“The hospital pharmacy has limited pediatric stock. We’re getting additional doses transferred.”
“How long?”
“Forty minutes.”
“Too long.”
“Mr. Salvatore—”
Dante was already calling someone.
“Get me a helicopter.”
Elena stared at him.
The doctor raised his hand.
“We have transport coordinated.”
“From where?”
“Northwestern.”
“By road?”
“Yes.”
“Then mine will be faster.”
Dr. Warren hesitated.
Elena expected him to object.
Instead he said, “If you can actually make that happen safely, I’ll connect your pilot with our pharmacy director.”
Dante made three calls.
Seven minutes later, a helicopter was being cleared to land.
Elena watched him.
She remembered the man she had loved.
Not the frightening man discussed in newspapers.
Not the heir to a criminal empire.
The man who once drove forty minutes at midnight because Luca, then five, had accidentally broken Elena’s favorite mug and cried until she told him they could find another.
Dante had arrived with six mugs because he did not know which one she wanted.
Back then, Luca had called him “Mr. D.”
Dante had assumed Elena was a single mother.
He had never asked too many questions because she had told him Luca’s father was gone.
Elena had hated herself for that lie.
She hated herself more now.
“You knew him,” Dante whispered.
She looked up.
“What?”
“Luca.”
Dante’s voice was rough.
“I knew him.”
“Yes.”
“I met my own son.”
“Yes.”
“He ate dinner at my house.”
“Yes.”
“I taught him to throw a baseball.”
Elena swallowed.
“Yes.”
“And you stood there.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of losing everything.”
Dante laughed bitterly.
“You lost everything anyway.”
“So did you.”
He looked at her.
That one hurt.
A nurse appeared.
“You can see him now. One person at a time.”
Elena immediately moved.
Then stopped.
She looked at Dante.
He did not ask.
That mattered.
“You go first,” she said.
His surprise was unmistakable.
“He needs to know you came.”
Dante entered the ICU alone.
Luca looked impossibly small beneath the equipment surrounding him.
Dante sat beside the bed.
For several minutes he said nothing.
Then Luca opened his eyes.
“Hey,” Dante whispered.
“Hi.”
“You scared everybody.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
Luca’s lips moved weakly.
“Mom said you were busy.”
Dante’s chest tightened.
“I was.”
“Are you still?”
“No.”
“Good.”
A faint smile.
Then Luca whispered, “I saw the man.”
Dante leaned closer.
“What man?”
“The one who gave me the candy.”
Every muscle in Dante’s body tightened.
“What candy?”
“At school.”
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
“Do you know him?”
Luca nodded faintly.
Dante waited.
The boy whispered one name.
Dante’s blood went cold.
Before he could ask another question, the ICU door opened behind him.
A familiar older voice said, “Dante?”
May you like
Dante slowly turned.
Victor Salvatore stood in the doorway.
