Chapter 6 - The House Behind the Iron Gates
Dante wanted everyone moved before sunset.
The villa had six security teams, reinforced windows, and gates designed to stop vehicles.
None of that mattered anymore.
Someone had entered without forcing the gate.
That meant either the security system had been compromised remotely or someone inside had helped.
Possibly both.
Clare sat beside Maya on the bed while a doctor examined Sofia downstairs.
Maya had finally stopped crying.
“Was the man scary?” Clare asked.
Maya shook her head.
“He smiled.”
Clare almost wished he had been obviously frightening.
Children trusted smiles.
“What did he look like?”
“Brown hair.”
“Old?”
Maya frowned.
“Like Daddy?”
Clare’s stomach tightened.
“Was it Daddy?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Maya looked offended.
“I know Daddy.”
Clare kissed her forehead.
“I know you do.”
Maya hugged Bunny.
“He said you forgot something.”
“What?”
“He said you forgot what Daddy used to do on your computer.”
Clare went still.
“Did he say anything else?”
“He said you would remember.”
Clare did.
Not everything.
But pieces were returning.
Richard had always hated being excluded from her work.
At first his curiosity seemed normal.
How was your shift?
What software do you use?
Can nurses see every patient?
Later it became more specific.
Do hospitals keep old insurance numbers?
Can you look people up after discharge?
When Clare told him those questions were inappropriate, he laughed and said he was only curious because one of his property clients invested in healthcare companies.
She had believed him.
Or chosen to.
Dante appeared in the doorway.
“Maya, Sofia has gelato downstairs.”
Maya’s eyes widened.
Clare looked at him.
“Is this bribery?”
“Absolutely.”
Maya slid from the bed.
Clare caught her gently.
“You stay with Sofia.”
“I will.”
“And don’t leave the kitchen.”
“Okay.”
When she disappeared down the hall, Clare stood.
“What happens now?”
“We leave.”
“Where?”
“A property north of the city.”
“No.”
Dante frowned.
“What?”
“I’m not moving from one secret mafia house to another.”
“It isn’t a mafia house.”
“What makes a house a mafia house?”
Dante considered that.
“Apparently your opinion.”
Despite everything, Clare nearly smiled.
Then her face became serious.
“I want police.”
Dante nodded.
That surprised her.
“You do?”
“For Richard, yes.”
“And the attack?”
“That gets complicated.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever entered this house had access to systems law enforcement will want explained.”
Clare stared.
“Meaning illegal systems.”
“Meaning complicated systems.”
“Dante.”
“Yes.”
“Illegal?”
“Some.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“This is insane.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. This is your life.”
His face changed.
“I don’t want it to be Leo’s.”
That silenced her.
Dante looked toward the hallway.
“Everything changed when Alessia died.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it did.”
“What did you do before?”
“The same things.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“I wasn’t.”
Clare looked at him.
“I told myself I was different from my father because I didn’t enjoy violence.”
He walked toward the window.
“As if that made everything respectable.”
Clare listened.
“I built legitimate companies. Hotels. Shipping. Construction. But I also inherited obligations.”
“Criminal ones.”
“Yes.”
“You could walk away.”
Dante gave a small, humorless laugh.
“People say that when they’ve never belonged to something designed to punish leaving.”
Clare thought of Richard.
Dante noticed.
“You understand.”
“More than I want to.”
For a moment they stood in silence.
Then Clare asked, “Do you think Richard helped kill Alessia?”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“I think he knows why someone altered Leo’s records.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
“Promise me something.”
Dante looked at her.
“If Richard is involved, you let police handle him.”
Dante said nothing.
“Dante.”
“I heard you.”
“That is not a promise.”
He looked away.
Clare stepped closer.
“I will not take Maya from one dangerous man and teach her another dangerous man is acceptable because he’s kind to us.”
The words landed hard.
Dante slowly met her eyes.
For years people had avoided confronting him.
Clare did it repeatedly.
And somehow she remained standing.
“I won’t hurt Richard,” he said.
“Unless?”
“No unless.”
“Say it clearly.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“I will not kill your husband.”
Clare exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Was that painful?”
“Extremely.”
She almost laughed.
Then Marco entered carrying a laptop.
“We found how they opened the gate.”
Dante’s humor vanished.
“How?”
“Administrator credentials.”
“Whose?”
Marco set down the laptop.
“Mine.”
Clare looked at him.
Marco’s face was grim.
“I didn’t give them to anyone.”
Dante stared at the screen.
“Could they have been stolen?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Anywhere.”
Clare suddenly thought of the hospital.
“Credentials don’t need to belong to the person using them.”
Both men looked at her.
“That happened to me,” she said.
“If someone is doing the same thing here, the real question isn’t whose login opened the gate.”
Marco understood first.
“It’s which device.”
He began typing.
Several minutes passed.
Then he stopped.
“Oh.”
Dante moved beside him.
“What?”
“The command came from inside the villa.”
Clare felt cold.
“Someone here opened it?”
Marco nodded.
Dante’s face became unreadable.
“Who was logged in?”
“A household tablet.”
“Location?”
Marco looked toward the ceiling.
“Nursery.”
Dante went still.
The nursery belonged to Leo.
Only a handful of people had regular access.
Teresa.
Sofia.
Two housekeepers.
Security.
And one person who had arrived that morning.
Clare.
She saw Dante’s eyes move toward her.
For half a second, old instincts screamed.
He thinks it’s you.
She stepped backward.
“I never touched a tablet.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You were with me.”
Clare stopped.
He did not suspect her.
Marco checked timestamps.
“The tablet sent the command while everyone was downstairs after you left.”
“Who went upstairs?”
Sofia appeared in the doorway.
Her lip was swollen.
“I did.”
Dante looked at her.
“Why?”
“To get Leo’s blanket.”
“Did you use the tablet?”
“No.”
“Who was there?”
Sofia thought.
“No one.”
Then her expression changed.
“The window.”
Dante frowned.
“What about it?”
“It was open.”
Marco stared.
“Second floor?”
“Yes.”
They went to the nursery.
The window led to a narrow stone balcony connected to the neighboring guest room.
No forced entry.
Marco examined the lock.
“Someone came through this.”
Dante looked toward the garden.
“How?”
“The guest room.”
They entered the adjacent room.
A suitcase sat near the bed.
Clare recognized it.
“Whose room is this?”
Sofia looked uncomfortable.
“Paolo’s.”
Dante turned.
“Paolo Ricci is staying here?”
“He arrived yesterday.”
Clare stared.
The security man who had disappeared after Alessia’s death.
The man who had brought them the photograph.
The man who claimed to be afraid.
Marco checked the balcony door.
Unlocked.
Dante immediately called Paolo.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Marco’s phone rang.
A security officer downstairs.
Paolo’s rental car was gone.
Dante’s expression became cold.
“He gave us just enough truth to make us trust him.”
Clare thought about the note left with Maya.
“Or someone wanted us to think Paolo did this.”
Dante looked at her.
She continued.
“If he had access to this room, why leave obvious evidence?”
Marco nodded.
“She’s right.”
Dante hated that both possibilities made sense.
Clare’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She froze.
Dante gestured.
“Speaker.”
Clare answered.
“Hello?”
For several seconds, only breathing.
Then Richard’s voice.
“Are you okay?”
Clare nearly laughed.
“You don’t get to ask me that.”
“I heard something happened.”
“How?”
Silence.
“Richard?”
“You need to get away from Salvatore.”
“You knew his wife.”
“I knew people who worked for her foundation.”
“Victor Hale?”
Richard stopped talking.
Clare closed her eyes.
“Who is he?”
“A client.”
“What kind of client?”
“Clare, this isn’t safe over the phone.”
“Nothing about you is safe.”
Richard exhaled angrily.
“Stop being dramatic.”
The old phrase.
The old weapon.
Clare felt herself shrink for half a second.
Then she looked at Dante.
Not because she needed saving.
Because she needed to remember what courage looked like when fear was still present.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I helped move data.”
“What data?”
“I didn’t know at first.”
“And later?”
Silence.
“What did Victor Hale want with Leo’s medical record?”
Richard whispered, “Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
Before he answered, a loud sound came through the phone.
Richard cursed.
Then another voice.
Male.
Distant.
“End the call.”
Clare’s heart pounded.
“Richard?”
The call ended.
Dante immediately turned to Marco.
“Trace it.”
Marco was already working.
Clare looked at Dante.
“Someone was with him.”
“Yes.”
“Was Richard threatening me?”
“I don’t think so.”
That realization was almost worse.
For the first time, Richard had sounded afraid.
Marco looked up.
“Phone pinged less than six kilometers away.”
“Where?”
“Industrial district.”
Dante moved toward the door.
Clare stepped in front of him.
“You promised.”
“I promised not to kill your husband.”
“That is an alarmingly specific promise.”
“He may know who killed Alessia.”
“And someone may kill him before he tells us.”
Dante looked toward Marco.
“Get the car.”
Clare grabbed her coat.
“You’re staying.”
“No.”
“Clare.”
“If Richard is there, I’m coming.”
“It could be a trap.”
“Then you’ll need someone he’ll talk to.”
Dante stared at her.
She stared back.
Finally he nodded.
“One condition.”
“What?”
“You stay behind me.”
Clare shook her head.
“I spent seven years behind Richard.”
She walked past Dante toward the stairs.
“I’m not standing behind another man ever again.”
Dante watched her go.
And for the first time, he understood that protecting Clare Jensen would never mean controlling where she stood.
May you like
If he wanted her trust, he would have to learn the difference.
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