Chapter 3 - The Woman From Dante’s Past
Dante stared at the photograph until the faces blurred.
Elena Caruso.
Seven years earlier, her name had been attached to his in every society column from Manhattan to Rome.
They had been engaged for four months.
Then Elena vanished from his life after Dante discovered that her father had been using the Romano organization to hide millions in stolen pension funds.
Dante ended both the business arrangement and the engagement.
Elena left New York.
Or so he had believed.
Isabella stood behind him.
“You were going to marry her?”
Dante turned.
He hated that she had learned it like this.
“Yes.”
“How long ago?”
“Seven years.”
“She looks like me.”
“No.”
Isabella gave a small, wounded laugh.
“She’s thin.”
Dante crossed the room.
“Bella.”
“I know. I know what you’re going to say.”
“Then hear it anyway.”
She looked at him.
“I did not marry you because you resembled anyone. I married you because you were the only woman who ever made me forget to be careful.”
Something in her face softened.
But only slightly.
She looked again at the photograph.
“Why was Sophia with her?”
Dante had the same question.
Sophia stood across the room.
“You already know the answer,” Dante said.
Sophia looked tired now.
Older.
“Because Elena’s mother and I were friends.”
“And Caroline?”
Sophia hesitated.
“She worked for Elena.”
“Doing what?”
“Personal assistance. Image management.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“And you recommended her to Isabella as a nutritionist.”
“I made a mistake.”
“No.”
Dante stepped closer.
“You made a decision.”
Sophia’s lips pressed together.
“Why?”
She looked toward Isabella.
For the first time, something like regret appeared.
“I thought Caroline would help.”
“Help with what?”
“Presentation.”
Dante stared at her.
“My wife is not a product.”
“In your world, everyone is a product.”
“Not in my home.”
Sophia laughed bitterly.
“You think your home is separate from your name?”
“Yes.”
“That is why you are naïve.”
Dante almost smiled.
No one had called him naïve in twenty years.
Sophia continued.
“You married a woman who had no idea what people say when she leaves a room.”
Isabella stiffened.
Dante’s voice became dangerous.
“Be very careful.”
“She deserves honesty.”
“No. You enjoyed hurting her.”
Sophia looked at Isabella.
“I believed I was preparing you.”
“For what?” Isabella asked.
“For this family.”
Isabella’s voice trembled.
“I was already in this family.”
Sophia looked away.
That answer landed harder than anger.
Dante walked to the table and lifted the photograph of sleeping Isabella.
“Did you take this?”
“No.”
“Did Caroline?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Elena?”
Sophia’s silence was immediate.
Dante saw it.
“You knew she was in New York.”
Sophia closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Isabella whispered, “Why?”
Sophia opened them.
“She came back six months ago.”
The timing matched.
Dante felt a cold pressure in his chest.
“What did she want?”
“She said she wanted closure.”
Dante laughed once.
“No.”
Sophia said nothing.
“Closure doesn’t send photographs of my wife sleeping.”
“I didn’t know about that.”
“Did you know about the messages?”
Sophia looked at Isabella.
“Yes.”
The confession dropped into the room.
Isabella stopped moving.
Dante’s hands curled into fists.
“You knew.”
“I knew Caroline was encouraging her.”
“Encouraging?”
Sophia’s voice broke slightly.
“I thought it was superficial.”
“You read the messages?”
“Some.”
“YOU’RE STILL NOT THERE.”
Sophia flinched.
Dante quoted another.
“IF YOU LOVE HIM, YOU’LL STOP MAKING PEOPLE WONDER WHY HE SETTLED.”
Silence.
“You read those?”
“Yes.”
“And you allowed them to continue.”
Sophia looked at Isabella.
“I thought if she changed a little, they would stop.”
Isabella stared at her.
“They?”
Sophia realized her mistake.
Dante stepped forward.
“Who is they?”
“No one.”
“You just said they.”
Sophia looked trapped.
Marco appeared beside Dante.
“Boss, car is ready.”
Dante nodded.
“Where are you going?” Isabella asked.
“To the address.”
“No.”
He turned.
“I’m coming.”
“Absolutely not.”
Her chin lifted.
“This happened to me.”
“And you nearly collapsed an hour ago.”
“I’m not staying here while everyone talks about me.”
Dante hesitated.
Dr. Levin would hate the idea.
So would he.
But Isabella was right about one thing.
Everyone had been making decisions for her.
Sophia.
Caroline.
Whoever sent the messages.
Even Dante could not protect her by taking away her choices.
He held out his hand.
“You stay beside me.”
She took it.
“Always.”
The building at the address was an expensive converted warehouse with private residences above an art gallery.
Dante’s security arrived first.
No sign of forced entry.
No one had left in the previous hour.
The apartment was on the fourth floor.
Marco knocked.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Dante looked at Isabella.
“Stay behind me.”
Marco used the building manager’s emergency key.
The door opened.
The apartment was empty.
But someone had been there recently.
A glass of water stood on the counter.
A lamp was on.
A laptop remained open.
Dante entered slowly.
The walls were covered in photographs.
Not art.
Photographs of Isabella.
Hundreds.
At restaurants.
Leaving stores.
Getting into cars.
Standing beside Dante.
Laughing with friends.
Walking alone.
Isabella froze.
“Oh my God.”
Dante moved in front of her.
“Don’t look.”
“No.”
She stepped around him.
“I need to see.”
Some photographs had notes beneath them.
Weight estimates.
Dates.
Clothing sizes.
Observations.
ATE DESSERT.
DANTE LOOKED AWAY.
TOO LOUD AT DINNER.
WORE RED AGAIN.
GAINED THREE?
Isabella’s face went pale.
Dante ripped one from the wall.
“This is sick.”
Marco examined the laptop.
“There are surveillance files.”
“From where?”
“Restaurants. Building entrances. Foundation events.”
“Penthouse?”
Marco’s expression darkened.
“Possibly.”
Dante turned toward the apartment.
There had to be cameras.
Equipment.
Something.
Isabella moved toward a small desk.
A silver picture frame stood there.
Inside was a photograph of Elena and Dante from seven years earlier.
Isabella stared at it.
Dante removed the frame and turned it facedown.
“Don’t.”
She looked at him.
“Don’t what?”
“Compare yourself.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“She has nothing to do with us.”
“Apparently she does.”
He could not argue.
Marco called from the bedroom.
“Boss.”
Dante and Isabella followed.
Inside, an entire wall had been covered with printed emails.
Most were between Sophia and Caroline.
Some were ordinary.
Appointment times.
Clothing recommendations.
Foundation events.
Then Isabella found one dated three months earlier.
SHE’S RESISTING.
Another reply.
MAKE HER BELIEVE IT’S HER IDEA.
Isabella read it twice.
Her voice became faint.
“Who wrote that?”
Marco checked.
“Caroline.”
The reply came from Sophia’s foundation email.
KEEP DANTE OUT OF IT.
Dante turned toward Sophia, who had been brought with them under guard.
Her face drained of color.
“I did not write that.”
“It came from your account.”
“I didn’t.”
Dante moved closer.
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
A printer suddenly activated in the next room.
Everyone froze.
Marco drew his weapon instinctively.
The printer began producing a page.
One sheet.
Then another.
Dante approached carefully.
The first page contained only one sentence.
DANTE NEVER LOVED ISABELLA.
The second page printed.
HE CHOSE HER BECAUSE SHE WAS EASY TO BREAK.
Isabella stared.
Dante ripped the pages away.
The third began emerging.
Marco checked the laptop.
“Someone is accessing the network remotely.”
“Trace it.”
“I’m trying.”
A fourth page printed.
This one contained a photograph.
Dante stopped.
It showed Elena outside the Romano penthouse.
Yesterday.
The timestamp read 6:42 p.m.
Isabella whispered, “She was there?”
Dante looked at Marco.
“Check yesterday’s security log.”
Marco called the building.
Thirty seconds later, he looked up.
“No Elena Caruso entered under that name.”
Dante’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Romano.”
A woman spoke.
Soft.
Familiar.
“Still trying to save women who don’t understand you?”
Dante’s face hardened.
“Elena.”
Isabella stared at him.
The voice laughed quietly.
“You finally figured it out.”
“Where are you?”
“Close.”
“You entered my home.”
“I’ve been inside your home many times.”
Dante looked toward the photographs.
“What do you want?”
Elena’s voice lost its amusement.
“What you took from me.”
“I took nothing.”
“You took everything.”
“You did this to Isabella because I ended our engagement?”
“No.”
A pause.
“I did this because she took my place.”
Dante’s voice became ice.
“There was never a place waiting for you.”
Another pause.
Then Elena whispered, “Ask Sophia why your mother really died.”
The line disconnected.
Dante slowly turned.
Sophia had gone white.
Isabella looked between them.
“What does she mean?”
Sophia backed toward the door.
Dante said her name.
“Sophia.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“What happened to my mother?”
Sophia’s eyes filled with tears.
“Dante, not here.”
He stepped closer.
“What happened?”
Sophia reached for the door handle.
May you like
It was already moving from the other side.
Someone was opening it.
