Chapter 3 - Someone Was Watching
Dante did not raise his voice.
That made everyone more frightened.
“Lock the neighborhood.”
Marco immediately called the security team.
Amelia stared at the photograph on her phone.
The angle suggested elevation.
Second floor.
Maybe third.
She looked across the street.
Curtains.
Windows.
Balconies.
Movement.
“Amelia.”
She ignored Dante.
The photograph showed the passenger side of her vehicle.
Sunlight reflected across the windshield.
Behind her own reflection was another.
A narrow vertical shape.
Red brick.
She turned.
The building directly behind them was stucco.
Across the intersection stood a red brick apartment complex.
Third floor.
One curtain moved.
“There.”
Marco turned.
A figure vanished.
Security rushed across the street.
Five minutes later the apartment was empty.
The room contained a chair.
A camera tripod.
Three empty coffee cups.
And dozens of photographs.
Dante.
Marco.
Raymond.
Amelia.
Lily.
Someone had been watching all of them.
But one photograph was different.
It showed Dante’s younger brother, Julian Moretti, shaking hands with Raymond Cole.
The timestamp was from two nights before the assassination attempt.
Dante stared at it.
“Raymond told me he hadn’t seen Julian in six months.”
Amelia looked at him.
“Then Raymond lied.”
---
Julian arrived that evening.
He looked enough like Dante that nobody could mistake their relationship.
Same dark hair.
Same eyes.
But where Dante was controlled, Julian seemed designed to charm.
He walked into the library smiling.
“Brother.”
Dante didn’t smile.
“When did you last speak to Raymond?”
Julian’s expression shifted.
“Straight to business?”
“Answer.”
“Sunday.”
“Why?”
Julian glanced at Amelia.
“And who is this?”
“My assistant.”
“The famous assistant?”
Amelia frowned.
“Famous?”
“You pulled my brother away from a sniper.”
He smiled.
“Half the city has heard.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“Not half the city.”
Julian’s smile faded.
Exactly.
The shooting had never been publicly reported.
The damaged penthouse had been sealed.
Only insiders knew what Amelia had done.
Julian realized his mistake.
Too late.
“Who told you?” Dante asked.
Julian sighed.
“Raymond.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked.”
“Why were you meeting him?”
Julian looked toward Amelia.
“Family business.”
“She stays.”
“Of course she does.”
Something hostile flickered beneath the charm.
Julian poured himself a drink.
“I owe people money.”
Dante said nothing.
“A lot of money.”
“How much?”
“Eight million.”
Amelia almost reacted.
Dante didn’t.
“Raymond was helping me liquidate some assets quietly.”
“My assets?”
“Family assets.”
“My company.”
“Our father built it.”
“And nearly destroyed it. I rebuilt it.”
The old resentment entered the room.
Julian emptied his glass.
“You always get to be the responsible one, don’t you?”
“I’m the one paying your debts.”
“You’re the one controlling everything.”
Amelia watched Dante’s face.
The accusation landed deeper than he wanted anyone to know.
Julian continued.
“You control the company. The properties. The trusts. Everyone’s salaries. Everyone’s futures.”
“I kept you out of prison twice.”
“And made sure I remembered it.”
Silence.
Amelia suddenly understood why Dante had reacted to her history with financial control.
Maybe he feared he was capable of becoming the kind of man she had escaped.
Julian set down the glass.
“I didn’t hire a sniper.”
“Then prove it.”
“How?”
“Tell me everything you discussed with Raymond.”
Julian hesitated.
Then he said something none of them expected.
“Raymond thinks someone is stealing from you.”
Dante leaned forward.
“What?”
“Company accounts. Small transfers disguised as vendor payments. He found them six weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because he thought the thief was someone close.”
“Who?”
Julian looked toward the door.
“Marco.”
Amelia almost laughed.
Too convenient.
Someone wanted every road to lead back to Marco.
“Did Raymond show you evidence?” she asked.
Julian looked at her.
“Bank transfers.”
“Copies?”
“No.”
“Account numbers?”
“No.”
“Dates?”
“No.”
“So you saw numbers on a screen.”
His expression cooled.
“You really are an assistant.”
“She’s better at questions than most detectives,” Dante said.
Amelia looked at him.
The compliment was quiet.
But she heard it.
So did Julian.
And he didn’t like it.
---
Later that night Amelia found Dante alone on the terrace.
The damaged penthouse had been abandoned, so they were at his secondary residence overlooking the river.
“You shouldn’t be near glass,” she said.
“It’s ballistic.”
“Comforting.”
She stood beside him.
For several moments neither spoke.
Then Dante said, “Julian isn’t the shooter.”
“You sound certain.”
“He’s reckless. Selfish. Sometimes stupid.”
“Strong brotherly endorsement.”
“But he couldn’t organize this.”
“Maybe someone organized it for him.”
Dante looked toward the city.
“Possible.”
Amelia sat across from him.
“What happened to you?”
His eyes moved toward her.
She immediately regretted the question.
“I’m sorry. That was personal.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to answer.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched.
Then he answered anyway.
“Car bomb.”
Amelia remained still.
“Six years ago. It was intended for my father.”
“But you were in the car.”
“Yes.”
“And your father?”
“Died three months later.”
She waited.
“Natural causes?”
Dante looked at her.
“No.”
She understood.
The Moretti world had ghosts everywhere.
“I spent eleven months learning how to live differently,” he said.
“People changed.”
“How?”
“They stopped looking at me when they spoke. Or they looked too much. Some became overly helpful. Others assumed I was finished.”
“And Marco?”
“Asked when I was coming back to work.”
Amelia smiled faintly.
“That sounds like Marco.”
“Yes.”
“What about Julian?”
“He visited every day.”
That surprised her.
“Then whatever is wrong between you now wasn’t always there.”
“No.”
She watched Dante’s hands.
Still.
Controlled.
“Do you ever get tired of controlling everything?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate.
“Then why keep doing it?”
“Because the last time I stopped paying attention, a bomb went off.”
Amelia had no clever response.
So she gave him the truth.
“You can’t protect everyone.”
“I know.”
“You don’t behave like you know.”
“Neither do you.”
That hit home.
They looked at each other.
Then Amelia laughed softly.
“Annoying man.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m sure.”
Their eyes remained locked a second longer than necessary.
Amelia broke contact first.
---
At 2:13 a.m., Dante received a call.
Raymond Cole was missing.
His security vehicle had been found beneath the Brooklyn Bridge.
The driver’s door was open.
Blood was visible on the seat.
But there was no body.
More importantly, Raymond’s security laptop was gone.
Amelia and Dante arrived forty minutes later.
Marco met them.
“We found this.”
He handed Amelia a plastic evidence sleeve.
Inside was a silver key card.
Raymond’s.
Broken in half.
Amelia studied it.
Then she noticed something stuck beneath the magnetic strip.
A tiny piece of blue fiber.
She had seen that fabric before.
Julian’s coat.
But before she could speak, Dante’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
“What?”
Amelia watched him.
Dante lowered the phone slowly.
“Lily’s school alarm just triggered.”
Every thought left Amelia’s mind.
“What happened?”
“They found someone inside the building.”
Her heart stopped.
“Lily?”
“Safe. She isn’t there.”
Amelia remembered.
Of course.
Lily was sleeping at Dante’s house.
The alarm had triggered in an empty school.
Someone wanted them to react.
“Why break into her school?”
Dante asked.
Amelia already knew.
“To see what you would do.”
Marco frowned.
“What?”
“They’re mapping his responses.”
She looked at Dante.
“The penthouse. Marco’s nephew. My bedroom. Lily’s school. Every time something happens, your security moves.”
Her face went cold.
“They’re learning the pattern.”
Dante understood.
“They’re preparing for something bigger.”
Amelia nodded.
May you like
And somewhere in the darkness, whoever was watching them had just learned exactly how Dante Moretti protected the people he loved.
---
