Chapter 13 - Dante’s Impossible Choice
I read my mother’s signature until the letters stopped looking like her name.
Everything inside me resisted it.
She had spent years destroying Northstar.
How could she have founded it?
Claudia supplied the missing history.
Northstar had not begun as a criminal marketplace.
Daniel, Evelyn, Alessandro, and Stefano created it as an informal protection network.
Its original purpose was to relocate people threatened by organized crime.
Witnesses.
Families.
Informants.
Abused spouses connected to dangerous men.
Evelyn designed the financial system.
Daniel built logistics.
Alessandro supplied safe properties.
Stefano handled transportation.
Then Stefano discovered information was worth more than protection.
He began selling names.
Daniel tried to stop him.
Evelyn discovered the betrayal.
Alessandro sided with them.
The war began.
My mother had spent the rest of her life trying to destroy the monster her good intentions helped create.
I understood her differently after that.
Not as saint.
Not villain.
Human.
That was harder and somehow better.
The federal investigation wanted Dante’s cooperation.
In exchange, prosecutors offered limited immunity for information relating to crimes committed under Alessandro.
Dante refused special treatment.
“If I committed something they can prove, I answer for it.”
I stared at him.
“You could go to prison.”
“Yes.”
“You’re saying that very calmly.”
“I’m terrified.”
That surprised me.
He continued.
“But Marcus is watching.”
My brother stood outside with Titan.
Dante looked through the window.
“I don’t get to tell him he can become different while proving powerful men never pay for anything.”
So Dante opened his books.
Every company.
Every account.
Every operation.
Some businesses were dirty.
Others legitimate.
He shut down the ones built on intimidation.
Sold others.
Paid restitution where evidence justified it.
The federal cases became complicated.
Months passed.
He was charged with financial offenses, but the most serious accusations associated with Northstar collapsed once records proved Stefano had operated through Dante’s companies without his knowledge.
Dante pleaded guilty to two lesser offenses involving reporting violations and unlawful financial structuring.
He received probation, fines, and mandatory oversight rather than prison.
He did not celebrate.
He simply signed the papers.
Then he came home.
Home.
I realized I had started calling the estate that.
My veterinary license was fully restored.
Instead of returning to my old clinic, I converted the eastern kennel building into an animal rehabilitation center.
Dogs with bite histories.
Traumatized animals.
Animals everyone else had labeled dangerous.
We called it the Titan Project.
Dante funded the building.
I refused his money for operations.
He argued.
I won.
Mostly.
Marcus graduated high school.
Dante attended.
So did Claudia.
They sat three chairs apart.
Progress.
Afterward Marcus asked Dante if he could use Castellano as a middle name.
Not last name.
He wanted to remain Marcus Whittaker.
Dante hugged him.
Neither admitted crying.
I pretended not to notice.
Titan healed.
His coat grew over the bullet scar.
He never became friendly with strangers.
That was fine.
Dogs did not owe the world friendliness.
They owed honest communication.
Titan was very honest.
One evening, almost a year after the laundry-room night, Dante brought me there.
The steel basin remained.
I had insisted.
“Sentimental?” he asked.
“Evidence.”
“Against me?”
“Always.”
He smiled.
Then he reached into his pocket.
I narrowed my eyes.
“No.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You reached into your pocket.”
“That is not legally binding.”
“Depends what’s inside.”
He removed a small velvet box.
My heart stopped.
“Dante.”
He did not kneel.
Not yet.
“I spent most of my life believing love meant possession.”
I stayed silent.
“You taught me it means choice.”
He opened the box.
A simple ring.
Beautiful.
“Rosalind Whittaker, I’m not going to tell you that you’re mine.”
“Good start.”
His mouth twitched.
“I’m asking whether I can be yours.”
My eyes filled.
Titan sat between us.
Of course he did.
I laughed through tears.
“Yes.”
Dante blinked.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
He kissed me.
Titan barked once.
Then the mansion alarm sounded.
We separated.
Dante’s phone lit up.
Security breach.
Old north wing.
Impossible.
That wing had been sealed after the fire.
We ran upstairs.
Titan ahead.
At the final corridor, we found a door open.
Inside was Alessandro’s old bedroom.
Someone had placed a photograph on the bed.
Taken that morning.
It showed Dante proposing to me in the laundry room.
Someone had been inside the estate watching us.
On the back, one sentence had been written:
STEFANO WAS NEVER THE LAST ONE.
Then Titan turned toward the closet.
A phone began ringing inside.
Dante opened the door.
May you like
The caller ID displayed a name that made Claudia scream.
ALessandro Castellano...
