Chapter 2 - Dante Discovered That His “Secretary” Had Secret Access to Every One of His Family’s Buried Secrets
Amara didn't go home.
She drove to the small apartment where her mother had lived before the nursing facility.
The place smelled of dust, lavender and old books.
She opened the closet.
At the back was a locked wooden trunk.
Inside were letters.
Photographs.
A cassette recorder.
And a red envelope.
Her mother's handwriting was on it.
Open only when they notice you.
Amara cried before opening it.
Inside was one sentence.
If Dante Moretti ever learns who you are, the enemy already knows.
She read it again.
Then again.
Her mother had spent eight years refusing to discuss the Moretti family.
Whenever Amara asked, Evelyn changed the subject.
Whenever Amara mentioned Dante's company, Evelyn went silent.
When Amara had accepted the secretary position four years earlier, her mother had asked one question.
“Which Moretti?”
“Dante.”
Evelyn had gone pale.
“Leave.”
Amara had laughed.
“You've never even met him.”
Her mother had whispered:
“I have.”
That night, Amara finally understood.
Her mother had worked for Dante's father.
Not as an assistant.
As an accountant.
She had discovered financial transfers that connected the Moretti organization to several politicians and businessmen.
Then one night, Evelyn disappeared.
When she returned, she refused to talk.
Soon afterward, she stopped speaking altogether.
Doctors called it trauma.
Amara always thought there was more.
She found it in the red envelope.
A small key.
A storage facility number.
And one final note.
Your father died because he trusted the wrong Moretti.
Amara froze.
Her father had supposedly died in a workplace accident.
But now—
She needed answers.
The storage facility was in Queens.
Inside the locker was a second box.
Documents.
Photographs.
And a ledger.
The ledger contained payments.
Names.
Dates.
Political donations.
Illegal transfers.
At the very back was a list of five names.
Dante Moretti.
Victor Moretti.
Julian Cross.
Richard Vale.
And Daniel Bennett.
Her father.
Amara's hands shook.
Her father had worked with them.
Or against them.
She didn't know.
Then she found a recording.
Her mother's voice.
“You have to understand, Daniel. If Michael knows, you're dead.”
Her father's voice replied:
“He deserves to know.”
Evelyn said:
“Your daughter deserves a father.”
“I know.”
“Then disappear.”
The recording ended.
Amara sat on the concrete floor.
Her father hadn't died.
He had disappeared.
For twenty years, her mother had allowed her to believe he was dead.
Why?
She returned home near dawn.
Her phone rang.
Dante.
She didn't answer.
It rang again.
She answered.
“What?”
“You need to come back.”
“No.”
“There was a break-in.”
“Where?”
“Your mother's storage locker.”
Amara's blood went cold.
“You searched it?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know about it?”
“Because someone attacked one of my men while trying to get inside.”
She closed her eyes.
Someone was following her.
Dante continued.
“I found your mother's name in my father's old records.”
She stayed silent.
“Amara.”
“What?”
“Who was your father?”
“Why?”
“Because I think he was working for my family.”
She almost laughed.
“He wasn't.”
“You know something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“That you're lying to me.”
Silence.
Dante finally said:
“You're right.”
That surprised her.
“I know something,” he admitted. “I just don't know how much.”
“Then figure it out.”
“You're coming back.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you called me just your secretary.”
He exhaled.
“I shouldn't have.”
“No.”
“You were right.”
“I know.”
Then the line went quiet.
Dante said:
“I need you.”
The words were soft.
Not commanding.
Almost desperate.
Amara closed her eyes.
“You don't know what you're asking.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because if I tell you everything, someone dies.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“You.”
The call ended.
Dante stared at his phone.
Ethan entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found the man who broke into the locker.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Bring him.”
The man arrived tied to a chair.
Dante recognized him.
An old associate of Richard Vale.
The man smiled.
“You finally realized.”
“Realized what?”
“Your secretary has been carrying your family's death sentence for twenty years.”
Dante's blood ran cold.
“Explain.”
The man laughed.
“Ask her about the Red Ledger.”
Dante stared.
The Red Ledger.
His father had mentioned it once before his death.
Then the man smiled again.
“Ask her why her mother hid it.”
Dante walked away.
Because suddenly he understood.
Amara hadn't left his life.
She had been placed inside it.
The entire four years.
Maybe longer.
But whether she had been protecting him—
or spying on him—
he didn't know.
May you like
And that uncertainty scared him more than any rival ever had.
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