Chapter 9 - Someone Knew She Was Running
The coordinates pointed to an abandoned medical facility outside Rome.
Dante wanted to go immediately.
Clare refused to let him.
That argument lasted six minutes.
Marco ended it.
“The message says alone,” he said. “That means they’re controlling the meeting.”
Dante stared at him.
“So?”
“So we do not let them control the meeting.”
Clare folded her arms.
“Thank you.”
Dante looked between them.
“I dislike this alliance.”
Marco smiled faintly.
“It’s very effective.”
They contacted Italian authorities indirectly through an attorney Dante trusted.
Not local police.
Not yet.
Dante still did not know who inside his network could be compromised.
The plan was simple.
Which meant Clare did not trust it.
Dante would enter the clinic alone.
Marco’s team would remain outside the property line.
Clare would stay at the house.
That last part was not negotiable.
At least that was what Dante said.
Clare waited until he finished.
Then asked, “Who received the messages?”
He looked at her.
“My phone.”
“No.”
She held up hers.
“They sent the coordinates to me.”
Dante’s expression darkened.
“They want me there.”
“Exactly why you aren’t going.”
“What if they won’t talk to you without me?”
“I’ll manage.”
“This is connected to my hospital access.”
“And my wife.”
The word struck harder because he still used it.
Not late wife.
Wife.
Clare’s voice softened.
“I know.”
Dante looked away.
“I spent six months burying her.”
Clare said nothing.
“I stood beside her parents while they lowered an empty coffin because there wasn’t enough to identify.”
Clare felt tears sting her eyes.
Dante continued.
“I told Leo stories about a mother he would never meet.”
His voice tightened.
“If she survived for even a day after that…”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“You couldn’t.”
Dante turned sharply.
“You don’t know what I could have done.”
Clare understood guilt because she carried her own.
“I knew Richard was getting worse.”
Dante went quiet.
“I told myself Maya didn’t understand.”
Clare looked toward the window.
“I told myself he had never hit her, so she was safe.”
“You left.”
“After she needed stitches.”
“Clare—”
“No.”
She met his eyes.
“If you’re going to tell me you should have known something impossible, then I get to say the same.”
Dante stared.
She continued.
“Or we can both accept that hindsight turns every warning sign into a billboard.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then his shoulders lowered.
Slightly.
“You were a good nurse.”
“What?”
“You have an annoying way of making terrible things sound survivable.”
Clare smiled faintly.
“It was part of the job.”
“What made you leave?”
The question came gently.
This time she answered.
“Richard.”
Dante waited.
“He called the hospital constantly.”
“Why?”
“To check where I was.”
“He told my supervisor our marriage was falling apart because I worked nights.”
Clare shook her head.
“He showed up during shifts.”
“Security didn’t stop him?”
“He was my husband.”
“That isn’t permission.”
“I know that now.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“He eventually told me if I kept working, he would petition for full custody because I was never home.”
“So you quit.”
“I thought I was protecting Maya.”
“You were surviving.”
Clare looked at him.
Richard had never used that word.
Surviving.
He called it selfishness.
Instability.
Drama.
Dante said it as though survival itself deserved respect.
Her phone rang.
Rachel.
Clare answered.
“Are you okay?”
Rachel was crying.
“Yes. What happened?”
“Someone broke into my apartment.”
Clare went cold.
“Are you there?”
“No.”
“Did they take anything?”
“I don’t know. Luca checked the cameras.”
“Police?”
“They’re coming.”
Clare closed her eyes.
“Rachel, I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
Clare almost laughed.
Everyone kept telling her that now.
For years Richard had taught her everything was her fault.
A door slammed?
Her fault.
He lost his temper?
Her fault.
Maya cried?
Her fault.
Now people kept handing responsibility back to the people who actually caused harm.
It felt unfamiliar.
After the call, Dante looked at her.
“Your cousin?”
“Someone entered her apartment.”
His expression changed.
“They’re widening pressure.”
“Because of me.”
“Because they are afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Whatever Richard kept in Ohio.”
Clare looked toward the hallway.
Richard sat under guard.
“Then we get it.”
“How?”
“I go home.”
“No.”
She sighed.
“Why did I know you would say that?”
“Because it is a terrible idea.”
“It’s in a bank.”
“And Hale knows Richard has it.”
“He may not know where.”
Dante looked unconvinced.
Clare continued.
“If those files can prove what happened to Alessia, you need them.”
“I can send someone.”
“It’s my husband’s box.”
“Then he can authorize access.”
“Do you trust him?”
Dante’s silence answered.
“Neither do I.”
Their eyes met.
A strange realization passed between them.
Clare was no longer merely a stranger Dante had offered shelter.
She was inside the investigation.
And Dante no longer seemed like merely a dangerous man she should avoid.
He had become someone whose answers mattered to her.
That frightened her.
Sofia entered carrying Leo.
“He wants his father.”
Dante reached for him.
Leo immediately settled against his chest.
Clare watched the transformation again.
The tension remained in Dante’s face, but his hands became gentle.
Maya ran in behind Sofia.
“Mommy!”
She stopped beside Dante.
“Can Leo play?”
“He is six months old,” Dante said.
“So?”
“So his hobbies are limited.”
Maya thought about that.
“Can he watch me play?”
Dante looked at Clare.
“Is this negotiation?”
“She’s very good.”
Maya grabbed two wooden blocks and began stacking them on the carpet.
Leo watched.
Dante sat beside him.
Clare joined Maya.
For ten minutes, the terrifying situation disappeared.
Maya built a tower.
Leo knocked it down.
Maya laughed.
Leo laughed because she laughed.
Dante froze.
Clare looked at him.
“What?”
“That sound.”
“What sound?”
“He hasn’t laughed like that since…”
He stopped.
Clare understood.
Since Alessia.
Maya built another tower.
Leo kicked excitedly.
Dante smiled.
Not almost.
Actually smiled.
Maya pointed.
“I got you!”
Dante shook his head.
“You are impossible.”
“You smiled.”
“I’m allowed.”
“No, you said you didn’t.”
Dante looked at Clare.
“Your daughter has an alarming memory.”
“She gets that from me.”
Something warm passed between them.
Then Clare’s phone vibrated.
She checked it.
A bank alert.
Her account had received one dollar.
The memo line contained a message.
You ran once. You won’t run twice.
Richard.
No.
The transfer came from a business account she didn’t recognize.
Dante took the phone.
His expression hardened.
“Marco.”
Marco entered.
Dante showed him.
Marco typed the company name.
Several seconds later, his face changed.
“What?”
“The company is registered in Delaware.”
“So?”
Marco turned the screen.
“Managing partner.”
Clare read the name.
Victor Hale.
Dante’s jaw tightened.
Then Marco scrolled.
“And look at the secondary contact.”
Clare stared.
Her stomach dropped.
Richard Peterson.
The account had been opened two years earlier.
Long before Maya’s accident.
Long before Clare ran.
Long before Alessia died.
Richard had not accidentally been dragged into Hale’s network.
He had been part of it.
May you like
And whatever he told Clare in the warehouse had only been the beginning.
---
