Chapter 2 - The Job With One Impossible Rule
At exactly 7:58 the next morning, I stood outside Dante Moretti’s downtown office complex with Lily in my arms and a diaper bag over my shoulder.
I almost turned around twelve times.
The building itself looked nothing like the headquarters of a criminal empire.
It was sleek. Glass. Steel. Polished marble. Security guards in dark suits.
Everyone moved quietly.
No one laughed.
No one checked their phones.
It felt less like an office and more like a place where secrets were stored.
A woman at reception looked up.
“Miss Mitchell?”
I nodded.
“Mr. Moretti is expecting you.”
She pressed a button.
A private elevator opened.
“Forty-second floor.”
I stepped inside.
The doors closed.
My stomach twisted.
When they opened, Dante was standing near a wall of windows overlooking Chicago.
No gun.
No visible bodyguard.
Just a black shirt, rolled sleeves, and a cup of coffee.
He looked almost ordinary.
Almost.
“You came.”
“I have questions.”
“I know.”
He glanced at Lily.
“And she is coming with us.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust leaving her anywhere else.”
Something about the statement frightened me more than any threat could have.
“You keep saying people are after my daughter.”
“I’m not saying it.”
He walked toward his desk.
“I’m telling you.”
I put Lily in the temporary crib I’d been told was waiting in the adjoining room.
“Why would anyone care about a seven-month-old?”
Dante looked at me.
“Because your daughter may know something she doesn’t even understand.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Her birth certificate was altered.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The original birth certificate lists James Mitchell as the father.”
“That’s correct.”
“No.”
He placed a file in front of me.
“This is the original hospital record.”
I opened it.
Mother: Sophia Mitchell.
Father: Unknown.
My hands shook.
“That’s impossible.”
Dante sat across from me.
“When Lily was born, James was nowhere near the hospital.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It does if we know what happened before the birth.”
I stared at him.
“What happened?”
“You were drugged.”
The room went silent.
I remembered that night.
The headache.
The dizziness.
James telling me he had made me a glass of juice.
The strange dreamlike feeling.
Then waking up in a clinic.
I had always assumed pregnancy exhaustion had caused it.
Dante watched my face.
“You were unconscious for six hours.”
“How do you know?”
“I found the doctor who treated you.”
“Why?”
“Because he disappeared two weeks later.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“You expect me to believe all of this?”
“No.”
He leaned back.
“I expect you to investigate.”
That answer disarmed me.
Most dangerous men demanded trust.
Dante seemed to expect suspicion.
He pushed another folder toward me.
“This is your employment agreement.”
I opened it.
Salary: $10,000 per month.
Housing: provided.
Childcare: provided.
Medical insurance: fully covered.
Transportation: company vehicle.
Termination: immediate at employee discretion.
I looked up.
“There’s no catch.”
“There is one rule.”
“What?”
“You never lie to me.”
I laughed.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“What if I keep something private?”
“You can.”
“What if I don’t tell you something?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether keeping it private puts you or Lily in danger.”
My eyes dropped to the contract.
“Why me?”
“Because you’re intelligent.”
“That’s not enough.”
“No.”
He paused.
“Because James trusted you.”
That hurt.
“He abandoned me.”
“He loved you.”
I looked up sharply.
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m not defending him.”
“Then don’t pretend you know what we had.”
“I know what he did.”
Dante opened a second file.
Inside were bank transactions.
“James transferred $27,000 from your account to three shell companies.”
I stared.
“I know.”
“No. You know the first transfer.”
He pointed to the final page.
“All three companies eventually sent money to one account.”
“Whose?”
He slid the paper toward me.
Mine.
My blood ran cold.
“That’s impossible.”
“It was opened six months before Lily was born.”
“I never opened another account.”
“I know.”
“Then who did?”
Dante’s eyes hardened.
“That’s the question.”
A cry came from the next room.
I stood immediately.
Lily.
I hurried to her.
Dante followed.
She was awake, kicking her tiny legs.
He stopped several feet away.
Something changed in his expression.
For the first time, his frightening composure cracked.
He looked at her as though seeing something impossible.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You know something.”
“No.”
“Dante.”
He finally spoke.
“She looks like her mother.”
I almost smiled.
“That’s not exactly a revelation.”
“No.”
He looked at Lily’s small hand gripping my finger.
“She looks like my sister.”
I froze.
“Your sister?”
“She died twelve years ago.”
He walked away before I could ask more.
That afternoon, I started work.
My first assignment was simple.
Read emails.
Review schedules.
Flag anything involving the names Mitchell, Vale, or Moretti.
By lunch, I found something strange.
A recurring appointment on Dante’s calendar.
Every Thursday.
No name.
No location.
Just the initials L.M.
I stared.
“Dante?”
He entered the office.
“L.M.?”
His face went still.
“You found that quickly.”
“What does it mean?”
“Nothing you need to know.”
I remembered the note.
L.M.
The same initials on the photograph.
“I thought your rule was honesty.”
“It is.”
“Then tell me.”
He looked at me for several seconds.
Finally, he said, “L.M. is Lucas Moretti.”
“Your brother?”
He nodded.
“You said your sister died.”
“She did.”
“You have a brother too?”
“My younger brother.”
“Where is he?”
Dante’s face hardened.
“Dead.”
I stared at him.
“Then why is he on your calendar?”
“Because someone is using his name.”
That night, I took Lily to the apartment Dante had arranged.
I expected luxury.
I didn’t expect home.
Two bedrooms.
Warm lighting.
A kitchen full of groceries.
A crib.
A shelf filled with children’s books.
And on the refrigerator was a photograph.
Lily.
Taken three days earlier.
I ripped it down.
Someone had been watching us.
My phone buzzed.
Dante.
“Did you see the photograph?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted you to know.”
“To know what?”
“You’re not alone anymore.”
I stared at the city outside the window.
“Did you put the bracelet outside my door?”
“No.”
My blood ran cold.
“Then who did?”
Silence.
Dante’s voice became deadly calm.
“Lock every door.”
I did.
Then the lights went out.
Lily began crying.
The hallway outside my apartment filled with footsteps.
Someone whispered my name.
“Sophia.”
I held Lily against my chest.
The doorknob moved.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
A voice came through the door.
“You should have stayed at the club.”
I backed away.
Another voice laughed.
And then I heard Dante’s men in the hallway.
A burst of shouting followed.
Footsteps.
A crash.
Silence.
Someone knocked.
“Sophia. It’s Dante.”
I opened the door.
He stood there, breathing hard.
His gaze went immediately to Lily.
“She’s safe.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
He looked at the broken lock.
Then at me.
“They found you faster than I expected.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“People connected to James.”
I looked at him.
“You said James was dead?”
“No.”
“Then where is he?”
Dante’s face became unreadable.
“I don’t know.”
He reached into his pocket.
Pulled out a photograph.
James.
Alive.
Standing in a hospital corridor.
Taken three days earlier.
I stared.
“Where is this?”
Dante answered softly.
“Chicago Memorial.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wasn’t sure whether he was there as a patient…”
May you like
He stopped.
“Or a prisoner.”
