Chapter 4 - The Night Dante Broke
Hannah did not leave.
Not because Dante changed his mind.
He did not.
He became more impossible.
He moved Luca and Hannah into the secure east wing.
He doubled the guards.
He confiscated every employee access badge and ordered new biometric locks installed by evening.
He also assigned Marco to Hannah personally.
“I do not need a bodyguard,” she said.
Dante did not look up from his phone.
“Marco.”
“Yes, boss.”
“If she leaves the east wing, you go with her.”
Hannah put both hands on her hips.
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
Dante continued scrolling.
“If she attempts to lose you—”
“I’m literally in front of you.”
“—call me.”
Marco, who had the survival instincts of a man who valued his paycheck, nodded once.
Hannah stepped between Dante and his phone.
He looked up slowly.
“You fired me.”
“Yes.”
“So stop giving me orders.”
“No.”
“You are deeply irritating.”
“I have been told.”
“By everyone?”
“Mostly you.”
She wanted to stay angry.
Then she noticed he had not slept.
His eyes were bloodshot.
His shirt was the same one from the night before.
There was dried blood on his knuckles.
Her anger weakened.
“Have you eaten?”
He stared.
“You are no longer my employee.”
“I know.”
“Then stop asking.”
“That isn’t how concern works.”
Something flickered in his expression.
Then he walked away.
By evening, security identified the badge in the footage.
It belonged to Anthony Rizzo, a guard who had worked for the Morelli family for eleven years.
Anthony was missing.
So was his wife.
His apartment in Yonkers had been cleared out.
No bank activity.
No phone signal.
Nothing.
Dante called it a planned betrayal.
Hannah called it suspicious.
“Why would he wear his own badge if he knew the cameras existed?”
Dante looked at her across the library.
“He believed the cameras were disabled.”
“One camera was.”
“Others were not.”
“Then why risk it?”
Dante’s expression sharpened.
“You think he was framed.”
“I think people who plan elaborate break-ins usually don’t label themselves.”
Luca looked up from his homework.
“She has a point.”
Dante gave him a look.
Luca returned to algebra.
Hannah said, “Whoever took the key wanted you to blame Anthony quickly.”
“Anthony ran.”
“Or was made to run.”
Silence.
Dante studied her.
“You should have gone to law school.”
“I still might.”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“You argue enough already.”
Luca snorted.
For ten seconds, the room felt normal.
Then Dante’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Where?”
A pause.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Do not touch anything. I’m coming.”
He ended the call.
Hannah stood.
“What happened?”
“Anthony’s car was found near the Hudson.”
“And Anthony?”
Dante looked at Luca.
“We’ll discuss it later.”
That told Hannah enough.
Anthony was dead.
Dante left with Marco and two others.
The mansion quieted.
Luca tried to study.
He failed.
At ten, Hannah made popcorn.
At eleven, they watched half of an old comedy.
At midnight, Luca fell asleep on the sofa.
Mrs. Rose helped Hannah cover him with a blanket.
“Mr. Dante will be upset.”
“That he fell asleep?”
“That he is not in his room.”
Hannah looked at Luca.
“He can survive.”
Mrs. Rose smiled faintly.
“You are good for both of them.”
Hannah looked at her.
“Both?”
Mrs. Rose pretended not to hear.
At 1:28 A.M., Hannah woke to a sound.
A door downstairs.
She checked Luca.
Still asleep.
Then she stepped into the hallway.
Marco was no longer outside.
Another guard stood there.
“Where’s Marco?”
“With Mr. Morelli.”
“Is Dante back?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
The guard hesitated.
Hannah did not wait.
She went downstairs.
The front hall was empty.
She heard voices near the study.
Dante’s voice.
Low.
Furious.
“You should have searched him before moving the body.”
Marco answered, “We did.”
“Then how did this get into his pocket?”
Hannah stopped.
Dante said, “Someone wanted us to find it.”
Marco’s voice lowered.
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.”
A pause.
Then Dante said, “Get everyone out.”
Footsteps approached.
Hannah stepped back.
Marco came through the door.
He saw her.
“Hannah.”
“I was thirsty.”
Marco almost smiled.
“Again?”
“Apparently dangerous things happen whenever I need water.”
He walked past.
Hannah entered the study.
Dante stood near the fireplace.
A small brass key lay on the desk.
Luca’s key.
Hannah stared.
“You found it.”
“On Anthony’s body.”
“So someone framed him.”
“Maybe.”
“You know they did.”
Dante leaned both hands on the desk.
For the first time, he looked tired enough to collapse.
Hannah closed the door.
“Where was Anthony?”
“His car went into the river.”
“Accident?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
He did not answer.
She walked closer.
“What are you not telling me?”
His laugh was quiet and humorless.
“That list would take hours.”
“Start with your father.”
His eyes lifted.
“No.”
“Dante.”
“No.”
“You told me people die when you don’t know things.”
His face hardened.
“Do not use my words against me.”
“Then tell me why you’re acting like Anthony’s death happened before.”
Silence.
Hannah saw she had hit something.
“Your father didn’t die of a heart attack, did he?”
Dante did not move.
She whispered, “Dante.”
He crossed the room and locked the door.
The click made her heart jump.
Then he turned.
“My father had heart disease.”
“That is not an answer.”
“He also had digoxin in his blood.”
Hannah knew enough to understand.
Medication.
Potentially dangerous at the wrong dose.
“Was he prescribed it?”
“No.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Someone poisoned him.”
“We could not prove it.”
“Who knows?”
“Six people.”
“Luca?”
“No.”
“Vittorio?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Hannah exhaled.
“And your fight?”
Dante looked toward the fireplace.
“My father wanted me to take over an expansion I opposed.”
“What kind of expansion?”
“You do not want details.”
“Try me.”
“Guns. Ports. Men who buy judges.”
She went quiet.
Dante’s voice became flat.
“I said no. He said I was weak. I told him our family had spent fifty years building power and five minutes could turn it into a graveyard.”
“You were trying to stop him.”
“Yes.”
“Then why does Luca think you were destroying the family?”
“Because he heard half the argument.”
Hannah’s chest tightened.
“And then your father died.”
“Two days later.”
“Did you blame yourself?”
Dante looked at her.
“That is not a serious question.”
“Why?”
“Because the answer is obvious.”
Hannah walked closer.
“No. It isn’t.”
“If I had handled things differently—”
“You think he would be alive.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know I walked out after telling him he could destroy himself if he wanted.”
His voice cracked.
Barely.
But it did.
“I left him alone.”
Hannah’s anger disappeared.
Dante stared at the floor.
“When Mrs. Rose called me, he was already gone.”
She reached for his hand.
He pulled away.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not asking for comfort.”
“Maybe comfort doesn’t need permission.”
His jaw tightened.
“Hannah.”
She touched his wrist.
Dante froze.
Not because he disliked it.
Because he did not know what to do with tenderness.
That realization broke something in her.
“Your father’s death wasn’t your fault.”
“You cannot know that.”
“I know you didn’t poison him.”
“No. I only failed to see what was happening.”
“You cannot see everything.”
“I told you. I have to.”
“And that is what you’re really afraid of.”
He looked at her.
“Missing something.”
His eyes darkened.
“Being too late.”
The words came softly.
“Coming home to an empty room.”
Dante went completely still.
Hannah remembered Luca’s open window.
His bloody knuckles.
His panic.
She whispered, “That’s it.”
He said nothing.
“You’re not afraid of being shot.”
“No.”
“You’re not afraid of your uncle.”
“No.”
“You’re afraid of losing someone before you can save them.”
Dante’s face broke.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
Just enough.
His shoulders lowered.
His eyes closed.
He looked suddenly younger than thirty-two.
And terribly tired.
“My mother died when Luca was born,” he said.
Hannah’s throat tightened.
“My father was poisoned. Anthony is dead. Every person in my world eventually becomes a name someone uses against me.”
His eyes opened.
“That is why you should leave.”
She stepped closer.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not a name.”
“You are.”
“Then say it.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Say my name like it scares you.”
He stared at her.
Hannah’s heart hammered.
“Say it.”
“Hannah.”
Not a warning.
Not an order.
Something else.
She moved closer.
His hand came to her waist.
He stopped himself.
His fingers trembled.
That shocked her more than anything.
Dante Morelli’s hands were shaking.
She covered his hand with hers.
“I’m here.”
His forehead touched hers.
“Do not make promises you cannot keep.”
“I didn’t promise forever.”
His breath warmed her cheek.
“I said I’m here.”
For one second, he stayed like that.
Then another.
Then he kissed her.
Not violently.
Not the way his warnings had made her imagine.
It was careful.
Restrained.
Almost unbearably so.
Like he was touching something he expected to disappear.
Hannah kissed him back.
That ended restraint.
His hand tightened at her waist.
Her fingers caught in his shirt.
The kiss deepened.
Then Dante pulled away so suddenly she nearly stumbled.
“No.”
Hannah blinked.
“No?”
He turned.
“This cannot happen.”
“It already did.”
“I am eleven years older than you.”
“I can count.”
“You work in my house.”
“You fired me.”
“That is not helping.”
She almost laughed.
He did not.
“This world is dangerous,” he said.
“I noticed.”
“You are in college.”
“So?”
“You should be worrying about exams and bad roommates and whether your professor accepts late papers.”
“I do worry about those things.”
“Not signal jammers and murdered guards.”
Hannah looked at him.
“So stop deciding what my life should look like.”
He closed his eyes.
She softened.
“I don’t know what this is either.”
His gaze returned to hers.
“But pretending it isn’t there is getting embarrassing.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
Then his phone buzzed.
He checked it.
Whatever warmth had entered his face vanished.
“What?”
Dante turned the screen toward her.
A photograph.
Hannah leaving Columbia three days earlier.
Taken from across the street.
Below it, one line.
YOU SHOULD HAVE SENT HER AWAY WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE.
May you like
Hannah stopped breathing.
Dante’s worst fear had just found her name.
