Chapter 17 - The Fractured Soul
The silence in the cabin was so absolute that I could hear Clara’s soft, even breathing against my chest.
Dante sat motionless in front of the glowing screen, his head bowed, his hands gripping the edge of the table until the wood groaned under the pressure. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of believing his father had died of a sudden, tragic massive coronary. Fifteen years of honoring the mother who had supposedly held the family together through grief.
It was all a lie. The empire wasn't an inheritance; it was a crime scene.
"She killed him," Dante whispered, the sound torn from the deepest, darkest cavity of his chest. "She killed my father. And then she made me spend ten years building a fortress around her sins."
I stepped around the table, knelt beside his chair, and laid my hand over his trembling knuckles. "Dante. Look at me."
He slowly turned his head. His eyes were bloodshot, swimming with a mixture of agony, guilt, and a terrifying, boundless rage. "I brought this into your life, Lena. I brought you into a family of vipers. If I had never looked at you on that Chicago fire escape five years ago, you would be safe. Our babies would be safe."
"Stop," I said fiercely, grabbing his jaw, forcing him to meet my gaze. "Do not give her that power. You didn't choose your mother. But you chose me. You chose our babies. You gave up billions to hold my hand on a plain wooden bench, remember that?"
Dante’s throat worked, swallowing hard, a single tear escaping his eye and carving a path through the dust on his cheek.
"Eleanor thinks she is coming to take our son," I whispered, feeling a fierce, maternal fire erupt inside me, burning away every ounce of fear I had ever harbored. "She thinks we are weak because we live in the woods and wash our own dishes. But she doesn't know what a real family looks like. We are not running to Canada."
Dante looked at me, surprised. "Lena... they have judges, private armies, federal marshals."
"And you have the truth," I said, pointing at the laptop. "You have the encrypted key. You have the name Moretti. We don't run. We go to Chicago. We walk into the lion’s den, and we tear that woman’s empire down to the concrete."
Dante stared at me, the despair in his eyes slowly, systematically evaporating, replaced by the lethal, calculating brilliant mind that had once conquered Wall Street.
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"If we go back," Dante said, his voice dropping into gravel, "there is no middle ground, Lena. It is total annihilation. I will not stop until my mother is in a federal penitentiary or buried in the ground."
"Good," I answered without a second's hesitation. "Pack the guns."
