Chapter 3 - THE MORETTI FAMILY’S REAL FEAR
Vittorio Moretti had never once visited Amara without announcing himself.
Not in eight years.
The first time she met him, he had arrived at a restaurant with four men and left with six.
That was Vittorio.
Rooms reorganized themselves around him.
At seventy-one, he had surrendered most daily operations to Dante, but nobody in Chicago mistook retirement for weakness.
When Caleb escorted him into the apartment, Vittorio looked older than Amara remembered.
Not weak.
Older.
There were shadows beneath his eyes.
He placed the photograph on the table.
Rachel examined it.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was delivered to my home thirty minutes ago.”
“By whom?”
“If I knew that, counselor, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
Amara looked at the message.
GIVE US DANTE.
“What does it mean?”
Vittorio turned toward her.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much my son has told you about what has been happening for the last six months.”
Amara laughed bitterly.
“Considering he forgot to mention a multi-year mistress, I’m guessing not much.”
Vittorio’s jaw tightened.
“You left him.”
“He ordered me to.”
“He is an idiot.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow.
Vittorio ignored her.
“But he is also being hunted.”
Amara’s anger momentarily gave way to unease.
“By whom?”
“A group that has been taking pieces of Moretti territory since January.”
“I thought Dante was legitimate now.”
Vittorio gave her a look.
“Your husband has legitimate businesses.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“No.”
At least he did not insult her intelligence.
Vittorio sat.
“The Ferraro organization.”
Amara recognized the name.
Luca Ferraro.
A man Dante had once described as “a rat with a law degree.”
She had never met him.
“The photographs are from them?”
“We don’t know.”
“Then why bring this to me?”
“Because whoever sent it knew where you were yesterday.”
Amara glanced at Caleb.
“And?”
“Nobody should have known.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“You believe there’s an information leak.”
Vittorio’s gaze moved to her.
“I believe my son has spent the past year making decisions with something other than his brain.”
Amara almost laughed.
Almost.
“Say her name.”
Vittorio looked at her.
“Selena.”
There it was.
“You knew?”
“I knew she existed.”
“How long?”
“Three months.”
Amara stood so quickly her chair scraped the floor.
“Three months?”
“Amara—”
“You sat at my dining table.”
Vittorio’s face tightened.
“You came to our house. You asked about the baby. You toasted our marriage on our anniversary.”
“I told Dante to end it.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he is my son.”
Amara stared at him.
“And I was your family.”
Vittorio looked away.
That hurt more than she expected.
“You protected him.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t come here expecting me to protect him now.”
Vittorio’s eyes snapped back.
“I came to protect you.”
“No. You came because someone used my picture to threaten Dante.”
“Both things can be true.”
Amara pressed a hand to her stomach.
Her daughter kicked.
Vittorio saw it.
His expression softened in a way she had rarely witnessed.
“My granddaughter is involved now.”
Amara’s voice turned cold.
“She was involved the moment Dante brought another woman into her mother’s home.”
Vittorio accepted that without argument.
Then he reached inside his coat.
Caleb immediately moved.
Vittorio stopped.
Slowly, he withdrew an envelope.
He placed it on the table.
“What’s that?” Amara asked.
“Something Dante does not know I have.”
Amara opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Selena.
Entering a hotel.
Selena sitting at a restaurant.
Selena getting into a car.
And one photograph of Selena speaking to a blond man outside a parking garage.
Amara did not recognize him.
Rachel did.
“Oh, no.”
“What?”
Rachel picked up the photo.
“That’s Elias Grant.”
Amara waited.
“He works for Luca Ferraro’s legitimate investment group.”
The room went silent.
Vittorio nodded.
“We’ve seen them together three times.”
Amara stared at Selena’s face.
“When?”
“Over the last two months.”
“Does Dante know?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Vittorio’s expression became complicated.
“Because I needed proof before accusing the woman my son apparently believes he loves.”
The word hit Amara like a slap.
Loves.
She looked down.
Vittorio immediately regretted it.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.”
Amara forced herself to breathe.
“You should.”
She gathered the photographs.
“If Dante loves her, that’s useful information.”
“Amara.”
“It is.”
Her eyes burned.
She refused to cry.
“What do you think Selena is doing?”
Vittorio leaned forward.
“We believe she may have been gathering information.”
“Through Dante?”
“Yes.”
Amara laughed once.
It was ugly.
“Then congratulations. Your brilliant son compromised his empire and destroyed his marriage at the same time.”
Nobody responded.
A phone buzzed.
Rachel looked at hers.
“We have another problem.”
She handed the screen to Amara.
An article had been published less than two minutes earlier.
The headline read:
SOURCES QUESTION PATERNITY OF MORETTI HEIR AMID DIVORCE RUMORS
Amara stopped breathing.
The article cited an anonymous source who claimed Dante and Amara had “lived largely separate lives” during the period in which the baby was conceived.
That was false.
Completely false.
But the internet did not care.
Comments multiplied beneath the article.
Gold digger.
Cheater.
Now we know why she left.
Dante probably found out the baby isn’t his.
Amara’s hand began to shake.
Vittorio read the article over her shoulder.
His face became murderous.
“I will deal with this.”
“No.”
Amara’s voice stopped him.
“No more Moretti solutions.”
“Someone is attacking my grandchild.”
“My daughter.”
“Our family.”
Amara turned.
“That word is getting very convenient today.”
Vittorio flinched.
Before he could answer, the apartment door flew open.
Caleb’s men moved instantly.
A voice thundered from the hallway.
“Get out of my way.”
Dante.
Amara closed her eyes.
Of course.
He entered seconds later.
No coat.
No tie.
Rain darkened his shoulders.
He saw his father.
Then the photographs.
Then Amara.
“What happened?”
Nobody answered.
Dante crossed the room.
“Amara.”
“Why are you here?”
“I saw the article.”
“So did I.”
“I didn’t authorize it.”
“I didn’t accuse you.”
His eyes moved to Vittorio.
“What did you do?”
“Sit down,” Vittorio said.
“Don’t tell me to sit down.”
“Then stand and discover what an idiot you’ve been.”
Dante’s face hardened.
Vittorio threw Selena’s photographs onto the table.
Dante stared.
The room changed.
Amara watched disbelief appear first.
Then rejection.
Then something dangerous.
“Who took these?”
“My people.”
“When?”
“Over eight weeks.”
Dante picked up the photograph of Selena and Elias.
His fingers tightened.
“This proves nothing.”
Vittorio laughed.
“You sound like every stupid man who has ever confused desire with judgment.”
Dante’s eyes turned lethal.
“Be careful.”
“No. You be careful.”
Vittorio stood.
“You brought a woman into your wife’s home while that woman was meeting an employee of Luca Ferraro.”
Dante looked at Amara.
She hated that some part of her still recognized the pain in his eyes.
“She could have a reason.”
Amara whispered, “You’re defending her?”
His head snapped toward her.
“No.”
“It sounds like it.”
“I need facts.”
“You didn’t need many facts when you decided your pregnant wife should share you.”
“That’s different.”
Amara stared.
Dante immediately realized what he had said.
Rachel muttered, “Incredible.”
Dante ran a hand over his face.
“Amara, that’s not what I meant.”
“I know exactly what you meant.”
Her voice cracked.
“You grant Selena complexity. Motives. Explanations. You gave me an ultimatum.”
Dante stepped toward her.
She stepped back.
That stopped him.
The movement hurt him.
Good.
“I came because of the paternity story,” he said.
“What about it?”
“It ends today.”
“You don’t control the internet.”
“No.”
His face became cold.
“But I control my name.”
Dante took out his phone.
He called someone.
“Get every major outlet.”
Pause.
“On record.”
Another pause.
“No statement from counsel. Me.”
Amara frowned.
Dante’s eyes remained on hers.
“Tell them my wife has never been unfaithful to me.”
His voice became harder.
“Tell them the baby she is carrying is my daughter. Anyone publishing otherwise can attach my direct denial and my name.”
He listened.
Then said, “No.”
His eyes never left Amara.
“Do not call her estranged.”
A beat.
“She is my wife until she decides otherwise.”
Amara’s throat tightened.
Dante ended the call.
For one dangerous second, she remembered why she had loved him.
Then she remembered Selena wearing his sweater.
The moment passed.
Dante looked at the photographs again.
“Where is she?”
Vittorio answered.
“At your house.”
Dante turned toward the door.
Amara spoke.
“If she betrayed you, don’t confuse that with what you did to me.”
He stopped.
Slowly, he looked back.
Her voice stayed steady.
“If Selena used you, that makes you her victim.”
She swallowed.
“It does not make me less yours.”
Dante absorbed that.
Then nodded once.
A tiny movement.
But it was the first time since the confrontation that he did not argue.
He left.
Three hours later, Amara received a call from a blocked number.
She almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Hello?”
A woman breathed on the other end.
“Amara.”
Selena.
Amara sat upright.
“Why are you calling me?”
Selena sounded terrified.
“Because Dante knows.”
“You should talk to him.”
“No.”
A door slammed somewhere behind her.
“He’ll kill me.”
Amara’s blood chilled.
“Dante won’t—”
“You don’t understand.”
Selena began crying.
“There are things he doesn’t know.”
“What things?”
A long silence.
Then Selena whispered:
“The affair wasn’t my idea.”
Amara closed her eyes.
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because I was paid to get close to your husband.”
Amara went perfectly still.
Selena continued.
“And when that stopped being enough…”
Her voice broke.
“They told me to get close to you.”
The call disconnected.
Five seconds later, a photograph arrived.
It showed Amara leaving her obstetrician’s office three days earlier.
May you like
Underneath it was a message.
Ask Dante who knew the appointment time.
