Chapter 8 - The Message on Clare’s Phone
The photograph changed Dante.
Clare saw it during the drive.
He did not speak.
He sat beside the window with Richard’s phone in one hand, enlarging the same image again and again as if more pixels might reveal the truth.
Clare knew enough about grief to understand what was happening.
Hope could be crueler than certainty.
“Dante.”
He didn’t respond.
“Dante.”
Finally, he looked at her.
“We need to verify the photograph.”
“I know.”
“You can’t assume it’s Alessia.”
“I know.”
“You’re already assuming it.”
His eyes returned to the screen.
“She has the scar.”
Clare remembered the framed pictures at the villa.
“People can fake images.”
“It came from Hale four months ago.”
“That doesn’t make it real.”
“No.”
Dante’s voice broke almost imperceptibly.
“But if she was alive…”
Clare didn’t finish the thought for him.
If Alessia had survived, Leo’s mother had spent months somewhere without her family.
If she had died later, Dante had lost months he could never recover.
Richard sat in another vehicle with Marco.
Dante had ordered his men not to hurt him.
Clare had made him repeat the order.
Now she wondered whether she had any right to ask that much of a man confronting the possibility that Richard had helped conceal his wife’s survival.
They returned to a different Salvatore property before noon.
Smaller.
More modern.
Fewer staff.
Dante immediately handed the phone to a digital forensics specialist.
“Everything,” he said.
“Metadata, edits, source transfer, location.”
“How long?”
“Several hours.”
“You have one.”
The technician wisely did not argue.
Clare found Maya in a sitting room with Sofia.
When Maya ran into her arms, Clare held her longer than usual.
“Did the bad man come back?”
“No.”
“Is Daddy here?”
Clare froze.
“No.”
“Is he coming?”
“I don’t know.”
Maya frowned.
“Daddy gets mad.”
Clare swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Did I make him mad?”
Clare pulled back.
“No.”
The intensity of her answer startled the child.
Clare softened her voice.
“Never. Do you understand? Grown-ups are responsible for what they do.”
Maya nodded slowly.
Clare hugged her again.
Across the room, Dante stood holding Leo.
He had heard everything.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, Clare wondered whether Dante understood she was speaking to herself too.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then a text appeared.
Your husband gave Salvatore the wrong drive.
Clare stared.
Another message arrived.
Ask what Richard kept.
Then a photograph.
Richard standing outside the warehouse.
Taken less than an hour earlier.
Someone had been watching.
Clare immediately showed Dante.
His expression hardened.
“Marco.”
Marco entered.
Dante handed him the phone.
“Trace.”
Marco walked away while typing.
Clare’s device buzzed again.
You think Dante is protecting you. Ask him what happens to women who become useful to the Salvatore family.
Clare’s stomach tightened.
Dante saw the message.
“This is psychological.”
“You sound experienced.”
“I am.”
“Is it true?”
“What?”
“The question.”
Dante looked at her.
“Women who become useful?”
“Yes.”
He understood what she was asking.
“People in my life have been hurt because of me.”
“That isn’t the same answer.”
“No.”
Clare waited.
Dante looked down at Leo.
“My mother left Italy when I was twelve because my father’s enemies targeted her.”
Clare said nothing.
“My sister changed her name.”
“You have a sister?”
“She lives in Canada.”
“Does anyone know?”
“Very few.”
He looked at Clare.
“Alessia begged me to leave the organization when she became pregnant.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Pride.”
The answer surprised her.
Dante continued.
“I told myself leaving would make us weaker.”
“Was that true?”
“Partly.”
“And the rest?”
“I liked being the man people couldn’t threaten.”
Clare looked toward the message.
“Someone threatened you anyway.”
“Yes.”
“And Alessia paid for it.”
Dante closed his eyes.
There was no defensiveness.
Only guilt.
Clare softened.
“I’m not trying to punish you.”
“I know.”
“I need to know whether staying near you makes Maya less safe.”
Dante took a long breath.
“It may.”
The honesty hurt.
It also built trust.
“Then why should I stay?”
“Until we understand why Hale wanted your hospital credentials and why Richard followed you here.”
Clare looked at Maya.
“After that?”
“I arrange somewhere safe for you.”
“Without you?”
Dante’s eyes met hers.
“If that’s what you want.”
Something unexpected tightened in Clare’s chest.
She ignored it.
Marco returned.
“Text was routed through multiple services. Nothing useful yet.”
“Richard?” Dante asked.
“In the guest room with two guards.”
“Bring him.”
Clare looked at Maya.
Sofia understood immediately.
“I will stay with her.”
This time Clare trusted her enough to nod.
Richard entered ten minutes later.
He looked irritated rather than frightened.
That was familiar.
“Why am I being held?”
Clare held up her phone.
“Someone says you gave us the wrong drive.”
Richard’s expression changed.
Tiny.
But visible.
“You have another one.”
“No.”
“Richard.”
“I gave you everything.”
Dante stepped forward.
Clare lifted one hand.
He stopped.
That mattered.
Clare looked at Richard.
“Remember when Maya was born?”
He frowned.
“What?”
“You promised you would never lie to me again.”
“This isn’t about our marriage.”
“It is.”
She stepped closer.
“Every time you lied, you told me I was paranoid for noticing.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“You’re doing this here?”
“Yes.”
“Clare—”
“Do you have another drive?”
Silence.
She waited.
Richard looked away.
Dante’s expression became dangerous.
Clare remained calm.
“Where is it?”
Richard sat down.
“In Ohio.”
Clare’s stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“Safety deposit box.”
“What is on it?”
“Hale’s client list.”
Dante spoke.
“Names?”
Richard shook his head.
“I didn’t read all of it.”
“Why keep it?”
“Insurance.”
“Against Hale?”
“Against everyone.”
Clare felt disgust.
“You were going to use it to save yourself.”
“Yes.”
At least that answer was honest.
“What else is there?”
Richard looked at Dante.
“Messages about Alessia.”
The room went silent.
Dante’s voice dropped.
“What messages?”
“Orders to follow her. Record her meetings.”
“Kill her?”
“No.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Who ordered surveillance?”
Richard hesitated.
Dante stepped forward.
Clare watched him.
He stopped himself before she needed to intervene.
Richard swallowed.
“Someone using the name Romano.”
Dante’s face changed.
Marco, standing at the doorway, went completely still.
Clare noticed both.
“Who is Romano?”
Neither answered.
“Dante?”
He looked toward her.
“My mother’s maiden name.”
Clare stared.
“What does that mean?”
Marco spoke carefully.
“It was also the surname used by Dante’s uncle.”
“Used?”
Dante’s expression became cold.
“My uncle Matteo died fourteen years ago.”
Richard shook his head.
“Hale didn’t think so.”
Dante stared at him.
Richard continued.
“He called Romano ‘the old man.’ Said everything had to be approved through him.”
Dante’s face went pale.
Clare had never seen fear on him this clearly.
“What?”
He looked at Marco.
Marco understood.
“No.”
“What?” Clare demanded.
Dante’s voice was barely audible.
“My father had a brother.”
“You said Matteo.”
“Yes.”
“Dead fourteen years.”
“That is what we were told.”
Marco looked sick.
Dante continued.
“Matteo disappeared after trying to take control of the family from my father.”
“You think he might be alive?”
“I don’t know.”
Clare almost laughed from exhaustion.
There were too many dead people who might not be dead.
Her phone vibrated.
Another message.
This one contained no words.
Only coordinates.
And a photograph.
Alessia again.
Closer this time.
She was sitting beside a window.
A newspaper lay on the table.
The date on the newspaper was five weeks after the explosion.
Dante took the phone.
His hands trembled.
Beneath the image, one final message appeared.
If you want to know how long she lived, come alone.
Clare looked at Dante.
“No.”
He didn’t respond.
“Dante.”
His eyes remained on Alessia’s face.
Clare stepped between him and the door.
“You are not going alone.”
The man who had spent his life giving orders looked at the woman who refused to follow them.
May you like
And for the first time, Dante wondered whether the person standing between him and danger might be the same person capable of leading him out of the life that created it.
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