Chapter 3 - The Name Buried in Marcus's Past
His name was Dante Moretti.
Marcus said it like the word itself tasted bitter.
“He was my father's right hand.”
“What happened to him?”
“He disappeared twelve years ago.”
“Then why is he watching me?”
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked to the fireplace and stared into the flames.
“Because my father believed Dante was dead.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
He turned.
“He wasn't.”
I tightened my arms around Sophia.
“What does he want?”
“Control.”
“Of what?”
“Me.”
The story was worse than I expected.
Dante had been the architect behind many of the Vitale family's operations.
When Marcus's father died, Dante wanted control.
Marcus refused.
A war followed.
Marcus won.
Dante vanished.
Or so everyone believed.
“What does that have to do with me?”
Marcus stepped closer.
“You were never random.”
I stared.
“What?”
“The restaurant where you worked.”
“What about it?”
“It was owned by one of Dante's shell companies.”
I felt sick.
“So he knew me.”
“Yes.”
“Before I met you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Marcus's expression hardened.
“That is what I don't know.”
The answer came two days later.
A package arrived.
No return address.
Inside was an old photograph of my grandmother.
She stood beside a young woman.
The woman was Marcus's mother.
I stared.
“My grandmother knew your family.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Marcus looked at the photograph.
“They were friends.”
I felt dizzy.
My entire life had been connected to his.
My grandmother had once worked for the Vitales.
She had been a bookkeeper.
She knew things.
Then she vanished from Chicago.
My mother refused to discuss it.
I had always assumed the past was boring.
It wasn't.
It was dangerous.
Marcus opened another envelope.
Inside was a letter from my grandmother.
Eliza,
If you're reading this, you have been brought back into a world I spent my life trying to escape.
I am sorry.
Your mother believed distance would protect you.
It didn't.
The Vitale family owes you a debt.
One they have never paid.
I stared at Marcus.
“What debt?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
The letter continued.
The night your mother was born, your grandfather saved a Vitalе.
In return, the family promised protection.
But years later, that promise became something else.
A debt.
The letter ended with one sentence.
Never trust the man who tells you he owns the truth.
Marcus read it twice.
“That's not directed at me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because your grandmother knew Dante.”
I looked at him.
“You think he killed her?”
“I don't know.”
“Then find out.”
He nodded.
The investigation uncovered a series of hidden payments.
My grandmother had received money from the Vitales for years.
Then the payments stopped.
The same month she died.
Marcus was furious.
Not at me.
At himself.
“I should have known.”
“You didn't know.”
“I knew everything else.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You knew violence.”
“You didn't know my grandmother.”
“No.”
I touched Sophia's cheek.
“You're not the only person who doesn't know everything.”
He smiled faintly.
“That sounds like forgiveness.”
“It isn't.”
“I'll take it anyway.”
Then Sophia began crying.
Marcus immediately moved toward us.
He stopped himself.
I noticed.
“You can hold her.”
He froze.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded.
He took Sophia carefully.
The womanizing, ruthless Marcus I remembered was gone.
He held his daughter like something made of glass.
She opened her eyes.
She stared at him.
Then wrapped her tiny fingers around his.
Marcus looked like he had been shot.
“She knows me.”
I smiled despite myself.
“She knows your voice.”
He looked at me.
“Thank you.”
The moment was broken by a phone call.
Marcus answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
“Where?”
He hung up.
“Dante has moved.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
My heart sank.
“What is he doing?”
“Buying property.”
“Which property?”
May you like
Marcus looked at me.
“The hospital where Sophia was born.”
