Chapter 4 - BLOOD DOESN’T MAKE FAMILYMarco Moretti entered the library with the confidence of a man who had never needed permission.
She discovered Dante’s private elevator fifteen minutes after arriving at the Moretti estate and pressed every button before anyone could stop her.
Luca watched the glowing panel.
“Boss?”
Dante sighed.
“Let her.”
Rosie grinned.
The elevator stopped at every floor.
Elena did not smile.
She stood wrapped in one of Dante’s coats, looking at the marble foyer as though she had entered a museum built by people she distrusted.
Five years earlier, she had been in this house almost every week.
She knew the hallways.
She knew the library.
She knew which stair creaked outside Dante’s childhood bedroom.
But much had changed.
There were more guards.
More cameras.
More locked doors.
More evidence that Dante had become exactly what Elena once feared.
A man surrounded by enemies.
Dr. Samuel Price arrived within twenty minutes.
He was discreet, expensive, and one of the few people Dante trusted without reservation.
Elena initially refused treatment.
Dante ignored her.
“You can be angry with me after you’re alive.”
“I’m not dying.”
Dr. Price glanced at the blood-stained tissues Luca had brought from the apartment.
“I’d prefer to decide that after examining you.”
Elena glared at Dante.
Rosie whispered, “Mama, he has candy in his bag.”
Dr. Price smiled.
“I do.”
Elena surrendered.
The examination took nearly an hour.
Dante waited outside the guest suite.
He had faced federal investigations with less anxiety.
Rosie sat on the carpet with a box of colored pencils one of the housekeepers found.
“What are you drawing?”
She showed him.
Three people.
A small girl.
A woman.
A very tall man wearing what looked like a black square.
Dante pointed.
“Is that me?”
“Yes.”
“Why am I square?”
“Because your shoulders are weird.”
Luca coughed into his fist.
Dante looked at him.
“Something funny?”
“No, boss.”
Rosie continued coloring.
“Do you have kids?”
Dante looked at her.
“One.”
“Where?”
He swallowed.
“Right there.”
Rosie froze.
Her pencil stopped.
“Me?”
Dante nodded.
She looked toward the bedroom door.
“Mama said you didn’t know.”
“She was right.”
“You’re my daddy?”
The word hit him differently than father.
Daddy.
Something soft.
Something he had never expected anyone to call him.
“Yes.”
Rosie stared at him for a long moment.
Then returned to her picture.
“Okay.”
Dante blinked.
“That’s it?”
“What?”
“You’re not surprised?”
“Mama says my daddy has black hair and angry eyebrows.”
Luca turned away again.
Dante narrowed his eyes.
“Does she?”
“Yep.”
“What else does she say?”
Rosie looked thoughtful.
“She says you’re stubborn.”
Dante glanced at the bedroom.
He could practically feel Elena listening through the wall.
“And?”
“She says you made good pancakes.”
That stopped him.
He remembered Sunday mornings.
Elena sitting on the kitchen counter barefoot.
Dante attempting pancakes because she claimed men who could order murders should also know how to make breakfast.
He had burned the first batch.
She had laughed until she cried.
Dante sat beside Rosie.
“I still make pancakes.”
“Good.”
She leaned toward him.
“Because Mama burns them.”
The bedroom door opened.
Elena stood there.
“You little traitor.”
Rosie giggled.
For a few seconds, Elena looked almost like herself again.
Then Dr. Price came out.
His expression erased the warmth.
Dante stood.
“How bad?”
“Pneumonia.”
Dante’s chest tightened.
“Treatable?”
“Yes, but she has been walking around with it far too long. Severe infection, dehydration, malnutrition, exhaustion.”
Elena crossed her arms.
“I eat.”
Dr. Price looked at Dante.
“Apparently crackers are a food group.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
Elena rolled her eyes.
“I was making sure Rosie ate.”
Dante looked at her sharply.
Of course.
She had been feeding the child first.
Dr. Price continued.
“She needs antibiotics, fluids, rest, and monitoring. If her oxygen levels drop, she goes to the hospital whether she likes it or not.”
Elena muttered something.
Dr. Price ignored her.
“There’s something else.”
Dante waited.
“She has bruising along her ribs.”
Dante’s gaze moved to Elena.
“What bruising?”
“Nothing.”
“Who hit you?”
“Nobody.”
“Elena.”
“I fell.”
Dr. Price hesitated.
“It’s consistent with impact trauma.”
Dante felt rage rise.
Elena saw it.
“Not everything requires revenge.”
“If someone hurt you—”
“I slipped on ice carrying groceries.”
Rosie looked up.
“She did.”
Dante exhaled.
He would apparently have to adjust to living with people who could stop his murderous instincts simply by telling the truth.
Dr. Price left medication and instructions.
Rosie was given the bedroom across from Elena.
She refused.
“I sleep with Mama.”
Dante had an adjoining suite prepared instead.
Within an hour, Rosie had investigated drawers, discovered the bathtub had jets, and asked why anyone needed eight pillows.
Elena watched her daughter from the doorway.
“You’re overwhelming her.”
“She seems fine.”
“She’s five.”
“She pressed every elevator button and interrogated my security staff.”
“That means she’s nervous.”
Dante studied Elena.
“You know her.”
“I raised her.”
The reminder cut.
Dante lowered his voice.
“I want to.”
“Want to what?”
“Know her.”
Elena looked away.
“That isn’t simple.”
“It should be.”
“You don’t get five years back because you want them.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Dante remained silent.
She turned toward him.
“You think because Vittorio lied, everything between us automatically goes back to what it was.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
“I think he stole something from both of us.”
Elena’s eyes hardened.
“And I think you need to ask why he could.”
Dante frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You created a world where a threat from someone like Vittorio was believable.”
Dante took the blow without defending himself.
“You’re right.”
Elena seemed surprised.
He continued.
“I was dangerous.”
“Was?”
Dante almost smiled.
“Still am.”
“That is not comforting.”
“I’m not trying to comfort you.”
“Clearly.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
Elena turned serious.
“You think Vittorio sent those men?”
“Yes.”
“Why now?”
“Because Rosie found me.”
“He couldn’t have known that quickly.”
Dante had been thinking the same thing.
He looked toward the security camera above the hall.
“If he did, someone told him.”
Elena followed his gaze.
“Someone inside?”
“Maybe.”
She went pale.
Dante softened his voice.
“This estate is secure.”
“You said that about your organization five years ago.”
He had no response.
A knock came at the door.
Luca entered.
“Boss, we found something on the man from the apartment.”
He handed Dante a phone.
There was only one recent text.
THE GIRL HAS MADE CONTACT. CLEAN THE APARTMENT. NO SURVIVORS.
Elena covered her mouth.
Dante scrolled.
The sender number had been masked.
But another message remained in the deleted folder.
A photograph.
Rosie leaving school three days earlier.
Someone had been watching her before the grocery store.
Dante’s blood turned cold.
“They knew where we were.”
Elena whispered, “How long?”
“I don’t know.”
Luca looked grim.
“We also searched the apartment.”
“And?”
“Hidden under the kitchen cabinet, we found a tracker.”
Elena stared at him.
“What?”
“It had been there at least several months.”
Dante looked toward Rosie’s room.
Someone had tracked his daughter.
Someone had known exactly where Elena lived.
Yet had waited.
Why?
He pulled out his phone.
“Lock the estate.”
Luca nodded.
“No one enters or leaves.”
Dante looked at Elena.
“Except Dr. Price.”
“Understood.”
“And bring Marco in.”
Luca hesitated.
“Marco?”
“Now.”
Elena recognized the name.
“Your cousin?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dante had trusted Marco Moretti since childhood.
They had fought together.
Buried friends together.
Built the organization together.
And three days earlier, Dante had casually mentioned stopping at the grocery store after a meeting.
Only three people had known.
Luca.
Marco.
Vittorio.
Rosie appeared in the doorway holding a stuffed bear one of the housekeepers had given her.
“Daddy?”
Dante turned.
The word still startled him.
“Yes?”
“Is Mama safe here?”
Dante looked at Elena.
Then at his daughter.
He wanted to promise.
Instead, he told the truth.
“I’m going to make her safe.”
Rosie nodded.
Then held out the bear.
“This is Mr. Pancake.”
Dante stared at it.
“Why?”
“He looks like a pancake.”
The bear looked nothing like a pancake.
Dante accepted this as one of the mysteries of fatherhood.
Rosie walked back into the room.
Elena looked at him.
“You heard her.”
“Yes.”
“She already trusts you.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“Then I cannot fail her.”
An hour later, Marco Moretti drove through the iron gates.
Dante watched from the upstairs window.
His cousin stepped out of his car smiling.
Completely unaware that three armed guards were waiting behind him.
May you like
And that for the first time in twenty years, Dante no longer knew whether he was looking at family—
or the man who had helped steal his daughter.
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