Chapter 3 The First Crack

Morning came too soon.

Sunlight crept into the room like a thief, painting golden streaks across the floorboards. I hadn't slept a second. My body lay still, but my mind had been spinning-trapped between the past I couldn't outrun and the future I was pretending to want.

Dante was already gone when I opened my eyes.

The couch was empty, sheets neatly folded, not a trace of the man who haunted my every breath. A part of me was relieved. Another part... missed him. And that part scared me more than anything.

I pulled on a soft sweater and jeans, tied my hair back, and slipped the flash drive into my pocket. Today I would find something-anything-that could lead me to the truth. About my father. About Dante. About everything.

I found Maria, one of the housekeepers, in the hallway.

"Is Mr. Romano in his office?" I asked casually.

She hesitated. "He left early. Said he had a meeting downtown."

Perfect.

I made my way to his office on the second floor, my fingers shaking slightly as I picked the lock with the thin metal pin I'd hidden in my bra. It clicked open after thirty seconds.

The room was dark, lined with mahogany shelves and leather-bound books. A globe bar stood in the corner, beside a massive desk with three computer monitors and a drawer I'd been eyeing since I first saw it.

I sat in his chair, inserted the flash drive, and whispered to myself, "Let's see what you're hiding."

The screen flickered to life. Password protected. Of course.

I pulled out my phone, opened the note I'd saved with every code I'd ever seen him type-birthdays, names, key combinations. I typed in the most likely one.

A.M.W1223.

Click.

I was in.

For a second, I couldn't breathe. There it was an ocean of files. Financial records, confidential emails, encrypted folders. My fingers hovered over the mouse, trembling with anticipation.

Then I clicked on a folder titled: "PRISM-ALPHA."

A list of payments popped up. Offshore accounts. Large wire transfers. One name caught my eye.

Carlo Vasquez – $500,000 – Jan 2, 2018.

The same day my father died.

My stomach dropped.

Carlo Vasquez was one of Dante's former enforcers. Rumor had it he'd gone underground years ago. No one knew where he was. But this... this was proof. If Dante had paid him, then he had to know something.

My chest tightened. I'd suspected for years, but now-there was no doubt.

Dante had something to do with my father's death.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps outside.

I yanked the flash drive free, shut the screen, and bolted to the side door just as the knob to the main office turned.

I ducked into the hallway closet and held my breath.

The door creaked open.

Silence.

Then I heard Dante's voice-calm, smooth, yet strangely tense. "Who's been in here?"

A beat passed.

He walked in further, and I peeked through the slits in the closet door. He scanned the room like a hunter-calculating and precise. His eyes landed on the desk. His jaw clenched.

He knew.

He stepped over to the chair, sat down, and opened the computer. I could see the faint glow of the screen, reflected in his expression.

Then I saw something else.

He smiled.

But it wasn't pleasant.

It was sharp. Dangerous. Like a man who realized someone was playing a game with him and was now ready to play back.

I stayed in that closet for ten agonizing minutes until he left again, muttering into his phone, "Find out who accessed the system. Now."

My heart thundered.

He didn't know it was me... yet.

But if I wasn't careful, he would soon.

That night, the tension between us was unbearable.

Dinner was served in the main hall, a long table set for two. Dante was quiet, chewing slowly, watching me the way one might watch a snake slither through the grass.

"How was your day?" he asked finally.

I blinked. "Quiet."

"Do anything interesting?"

"Just read."

He nodded slowly. "That's good. Knowledge is power."

My hand shook slightly as I lifted my glass of wine. "And what about you?"

"Oh, the usual," he said. "Business. Meetings. Hunting for traitors."

The way he said it so casually, so cold-made my blood chill.

"I don't envy your job," I said carefully.

"You shouldn't," he replied. "Trust is a fragile thing, Serena. It only takes one crack for the whole thing to shatter."

I forced a smile. "Sounds like you've been betrayed before."

"I have." His eyes met mine. "It doesn't end well."

Later, in our bedroom, I stood at the window again, heart aching.

I'd gotten what I wanted-proof. But instead of satisfaction, all I felt was confusion. Guilt. Even pain.

Why did he seem so... real?

Why did part of me want to believe he wasn't a monster?

Behind me, the door opened.

Dante walked in, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing the edge of a scar across his ribs.

"How'd you get that?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He glanced down. "Old story."

"Tell me."

He studied me. Then, surprisingly, he did.

"I was sixteen. Someone tried to kill my father. I got in the way."

"That was brave."

"That was stupid," he said. "But necessary."

He moved closer, his voice lower. "Sometimes we do things for family that don't make sense to the rest of the world."

I looked up at him. "Even kill?"

He didn't flinch.

"Especially kill."

Then he leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine. "Are you scared of me, Serena?"

I didn't answer.

Because the truth was...

I wasn't scared of him.

I was scared of how much I wanted to believe he wasn't the man I came here to destroy.