Chapter 7 - The Warning Left on Sophia’s Desk
By Wednesday morning, every employee in the estate knew Damian Russo had disappeared.
Nobody knew why.
Sophia arrived under security escort and found a red rose on her desk.
One rose.
No vase.
No card.
She stared at it.
Luca picked it up with gloves.
“Not from us.”
“I assumed Dante’s romantic technique was less threatening.”
Luca gave her a strange look.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“I value employment.”
Sophia smiled despite herself.
Her phone buzzed.
Dante.
Upstairs. Now.
His office doors were open.
He stood behind his desk.
“You’re moving.”
Sophia blinked.
“What?”
“To the guest residence.”
“No.”
“That was not a question.”
“Then you should have phrased it differently.”
His jaw tightened.
“Someone entered your apartment.”
“Security is downstairs.”
“Someone entered your office.”
“There are cameras.”
“Someone accessed my family’s systems, followed us to Wisconsin and knows when you visit a bank.”
Sophia crossed her arms.
“And hiding inside your house solves this?”
“It improves the odds.”
“Your house is apparently full of traitors.”
Dante stopped.
Fair point.
“I'll assign Luca’s people.”
“I don't want my life turned into a prison.”
His expression softened unexpectedly.
“I know.”
She lowered her arms.
Dante came around the desk.
“I don’t know how to do this without controlling everything around you.”
“Do what?”
“Keep you safe.”
Sophia's heart shifted.
This was not the feared Chicago businessman speaking.
This was a man admitting he was afraid.
She looked toward the windows.
“Three nights.”
“What?”
“I stay in the guest house for three nights.”
“Seven.”
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Fine.”
A faint smile.
“You negotiate badly.”
“You started at permanent imprisonment.”
She moved into the Moretti guest residence that evening.
It was larger than her apartment building.
Sophia hated that she liked the library.
She hated more that Dante knew exactly which coffee she drank.
At nine, someone delivered dinner.
At nine fifteen, Dante arrived carrying two files.
“You brought homework?”
“You agreed to help.”
“I also agreed to protection. I expected luxury.”
“This is the luxury.”
He placed the files down.
Sophia opened one.
Invoices.
Construction permits.
The same companies Thomas had identified years before.
“Damian kept the system alive.”
“Yes.”
“And Rizzo received the money.”
“Probably.”
“Why?”
Dante leaned back.
“My father pushed Rizzo out twenty years ago. Rizzo lost access to our companies, political connections and territory.”
Sophia ignored the last word.
Mostly.
“He’s been stealing from you ever since?”
“Not stealing.”
“What would you call it?”
“Funding something.”
That sounded worse.
They worked until midnight.
Sophia found a repeating payment sequence.
Every four months.
Same amount.
Different shell corporation.
She ran dates against foundation events.
Her stomach dropped.
“These payments happen before major Moretti business changes.”
Dante looked.
She continued.
“Warehouse purchases. Property acquisitions. Contracts.”
“You think someone was selling information.”
“Yes.”
“Damian.”
“Maybe.”
Sophia flipped another page.
“One transaction happened last month.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
“Before what?”
She scanned his calendar.
Then stopped.
“Before the gala.”
Silence.
The gala itself had been the target.
Not the money.
Not the poster.
Not even Sophia.
Something was supposed to happen at the event.
Something the blackout interrupted—or began.
Dante's phone rang.
Luca.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his expression went cold.
“When?”
Another pause.
“We’re coming.”
He hung up.
“What?”
“They found Damian.”
“Where?”
“Parking garage downtown.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Sophia exhaled.
“He asked for you.”
She stared.
“Me?”
Dante clearly hated the idea.
Twenty minutes later, they entered a private medical clinic.
Damian lay in a hospital bed, bruised but conscious.
He saw Sophia.
Fear crossed his face.
“Close the door.”
Dante remained beside her.
Damian swallowed.
“I didn't send those threats.”
“Your computer says otherwise,” Dante said.
“They used me.”
“Who?”
“Rizzo.”
“Why?”
“Because I owed him.”
Damian looked at Sophia.
“But he doesn't care about the money anymore.”
“What does he want?”
Damian's eyes moved toward Dante.
“He wants the Moretti name destroyed.”
Dante stepped closer.
“How?”
“The gala wasn't the attack.”
Sophia felt cold.
Damian whispered:
“It was the rehearsal.”
“What is the real target?” she asked.
Damian closed his eyes.
Then said the one thing that changed everything.
“Dante’s sister’s wedding.”
The wedding was six days away.
Eight hundred guests were expected.
Politicians.
Business leaders.
Family.
May you like
And according to Damian, Vincent Rizzo had already placed someone inside the security team.
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