Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE HOSPITAL GARAGE
Amara changed doctors that afternoon.
Not because she distrusted Dr. Patel.
Because somebody knew too much.
Her appointments.
Her movements.
The private apartment.
Her car.
Information that should have belonged to a tiny circle of people.
The following morning, Rachel brought over a list.
“Who had access to your medical schedule?”
“Dante.”
“His assistant?”
“Possibly.”
“House staff?”
“My personal assistant, Maria.”
“Anyone else?”
Amara thought.
Then remembered.
“Selena.”
Rachel stared.
“What?”
“Three weeks ago, before I knew everything, she came to the house as part of a charity committee. I left my calendar open in the kitchen.”
Rachel leaned back.
“So she could have photographed it.”
“Yes.”
Caleb entered.
“We found the vehicle from the first night.”
Amara stood.
“Who owns it?”
“Shell company.”
“Connected to Ferraro?”
“Not directly.”
“Indirectly?”
“Working on it.”
Amara hated that phrase.
Working on it.
Every answer seemed to produce three more questions.
Her phone rang.
Dr. Patel.
“Amara?”
The doctor sounded concerned.
“Are you somewhere private?”
“Yes.”
“I received a call from someone claiming to be your new security coordinator.”
Amara’s skin prickled.
“What did they ask?”
“To confirm your next appointment.”
“Did you?”
“No. Your records contain a verbal password requirement because of Mr. Moretti’s security profile.”
Amara exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“But there’s more.”
“What?”
“The caller knew your previous password.”
Amara froze.
“What was it?”
“Belladonna.”
Her stomach dropped.
Dante had chosen it years ago as an inside joke after Amara accidentally killed a poisonous plant in their greenhouse and complained she could not even keep deadly things alive.
Only two people knew it.
Dante.
And Amara.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Amara ended the call.
Rachel was watching.
“What?”
“Somebody had our medical password.”
Rachel’s expression changed.
Caleb asked, “Who knew?”
“Dante.”
Silence.
“No,” Amara said immediately.
Rachel did not speak.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Dante didn’t leak my medical information.”
Rachel’s gaze remained careful.
“You’re divorcing him.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten who he is.”
“What if who he is isn’t what you thought?”
Amara flinched.
Because that was the entire problem, wasn’t it?
Her phone vibrated.
Dante.
She answered immediately.
“I need to ask you something.”
“So do I.”
“Who knows Belladonna?”
A pause.
Then his voice changed.
“Why?”
“Someone called my doctor.”
“How do you know?”
“Answer me.”
“You and me.”
“Nobody else?”
“Not intentionally.”
Amara closed her eyes.
“What does that mean?”
Dante swore under his breath.
“Selena saw it once.”
The room disappeared around Amara.
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Why?”
“I took her to a hospital.”
Amara almost stopped breathing.
“For what?”
“She had an allergic reaction. They asked for emergency information. Your profile was open on my phone because I’d been checking one of your prescriptions after your miscarriage.”
The word landed like broken glass.
Their miscarriage.
Two years earlier.
A child they had mourned together.
Or Amara had believed they had mourned together.
“You were with her then?”
Silence.
“Dante.”
“Yes.”
Amara sat down.
The affair had reached further back than Selena admitted.
“Amara.”
She could not speak.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.”
“I should’ve told you.”
“You should’ve never needed to.”
“I know.”
“You were with her during the year we lost our baby?”
His voice turned rough.
“Yes.”
Amara ended the call.
Then she went to the bathroom and vomited.
Thirty minutes later, she changed clothes and told Caleb she needed air.
He refused.
She stared at him.
“I’m not asking to walk alone. I’m asking to leave this apartment before I start breaking furniture.”
He nodded.
They took the private elevator to the garage.
Two guards moved ahead.
Everything looked normal.
Concrete pillars.
Fluorescent lights.
A black SUV waiting near the elevator.
Then Caleb stopped.
“Back.”
Amara froze.
A man stood beside their vehicle.
Baseball cap.
Maintenance jacket.
He looked up.
Then ran.
Caleb’s men chased him.
Amara backed toward the elevator.
A hand grabbed her from behind.
She screamed.
A cloth covered her mouth.
She bit down.
Hard.
The attacker cursed.
Amara drove her heel backward.
The grip loosened.
She spun.
A second man.
She struck him with her purse.
He reached again.
Then a body slammed him into a pillar.
Dante.
Amara stumbled backward.
She had never seen him move like that outside grainy security footage.
Fast.
Brutal.
Controlled.
The attacker swung.
Dante ducked and drove him to the floor.
Caleb returned seconds later.
“Enough!”
Dante stopped.
His knuckles were bleeding.
He turned toward Amara.
Everything dangerous disappeared from his face.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
He approached.
She lifted a hand.
“Don’t.”
He stopped instantly.
That obedience startled her.
Caleb restrained the attacker.
The man laughed.
“Moretti.”
Dante looked down.
“You know me?”
“Everybody knows you.”
“Who sent you?”
The man smiled.
“Ask your girlfriend.”
Dante’s face went still.
Amara watched him.
The attacker laughed again.
“You really thought she loved you?”
Dante crouched.
“Name.”
“Ferraro.”
Caleb looked sharply at Amara.
Dante asked, “Luca?”
The man spat blood onto the concrete.
“Wrong Ferraro.”
Everyone froze.
Dante’s expression changed.
“What?”
The man smiled.
“Your father never told you?”
Vittorio.
Dante grabbed the man’s jacket.
“Told me what?”
Caleb stepped forward.
“Dante.”
But the attacker was enjoying himself now.
“Luca’s not the one who wants you broken.”
“Who?”
“His sister.”
Dante released him slowly.
Amara whispered, “What sister?”
Dante stood.
For the first time since Amara had known him, her husband looked genuinely shocked.
“Isabella.”
The name meant nothing to her.
But it meant everything to Dante.
Amara saw it.
“Who is she?”
Dante did not answer.
“Dante.”
He looked at her.
“Someone I thought was dead.”
The garage became silent.
Amara felt the baby move sharply.
“What does she want?”
Dante looked at the man on the floor.
Then at Amara.
His voice dropped.
“Revenge.”
“For what?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation told her the answer would be terrible.
“Fifteen years ago,” Dante said, “my father ordered an attack on the Ferraro family.”
Amara stared.
“My brother was killed afterward.”
His face hardened.
“I retaliated.”
Amara understood before he finished.
“Isabella’s family?”
Dante nodded.
“I burned down a warehouse.”
His voice was empty.
“I was told everyone inside had evacuated.”
“But they hadn’t.”
“A man died.”
“Who?”
“Isabella’s husband.”
Amara closed her eyes.
The shape of the nightmare became clearer.
Selena.
The leaks.
The photographs.
The affair.
This was not random.
Someone had spent years getting close enough to destroy Dante’s private life.
And Dante had opened the door.
Amara looked at him.
“Selena was sent by Isabella.”
“I don’t know.”
“You believe it.”
“Yes.”
“And you slept with her anyway.”
His jaw clenched.
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew you had a wife.”
That silenced him.
Sirens sounded outside.
Caleb’s team had already called police.
Dante looked toward the garage entrance.
Then back at Amara.
“You need to leave Chicago.”
“No.”
“Amara.”
“You don’t make decisions for me anymore.”
“This is not about our marriage.”
“Everything became about our marriage when your enemies started following my unborn child.”
He stepped closer.
“Then hate me somewhere safe.”
The words stopped her.
Dante’s face had changed.
No command.
No arrogance.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Go somewhere I don’t know,” he said quietly.
Amara stared at him.
“You’d let me?”
Pain crossed his face.
“I’m beginning to understand I don’t get to let you do anything.”
Before she could answer, Caleb’s phone rang.
He listened.
Then looked at Dante.
“We found Selena.”
“Where?”
“Northwestern Memorial.”
Dante frowned.
“Why?”
Caleb looked toward Amara.
“She was admitted twenty minutes ago.”
“For what?”
He hesitated.
“She says she’s pregnant.”
Amara went numb.
Dante did not move.
May you like
Caleb continued.
“And according to the intake notes, she says the father is Dante Moretti.”
