Chapter 6 - The Secret Behind the Leak
Dante did not confront Vittorio immediately.
That surprised Anna.
She expected rage.
Instead, he became methodical.
“Evidence first,” he told Marco. “Accusations later.”
The bank signature alone proved little.
Vittorio had managed numerous family accounts.
But the account linked to Luca’s investigation had received diverted foundation money for years.
Millions.
Dante’s gala, scheduled for the following night, suddenly became the perfect trap.
If the thief believed Dante possessed Luca’s phone, he would act.
Anna hated the plan.
“You’re using yourself as bait.”
“Yes.”
“And me.”
Dante looked at her.
“No.”
“My name is already attached to this.”
“You stay home.”
Anna laughed.
Dante frowned.
“What?”
“You really thought that would work?”
“I hoped.”
“It won’t.”
“Anna.”
“You told the press you trust me.”
“I do.”
“Then trust me.”
His jaw tightened.
“You could get hurt.”
“So could you.”
“That’s different.”
Her eyebrows rose.
Dante closed his eyes.
“I heard it.”
“Good.”
“I sounded like my uncle.”
“Terrifying, isn’t it?”
He almost smiled.
The moment softened.
Then neither moved away.
Anna stood beside his wheelchair.
Dante looked up at her.
“Why are you still here?”
The question was quiet.
She knew what he meant.
Her job was suspended.
Her reputation was damaged.
Someone had framed her.
She had been threatened indirectly.
Any reasonable person would have left.
Anna answered with the only truth she had.
“Because when everyone looks at you, they see what happened to you.”
Dante remained still.
“When I look at you,” she continued, “I see you.”
His breathing changed.
Anna realized how close they were.
Dante lifted his hand.
Stopped before touching her face.
“May I?”
Her heart stumbled.
“Yes.”
His fingertips brushed her cheek.
Anna leaned into the touch.
The kiss was not dramatic.
No sweeping movement.
No desperate collision.
Dante simply drew her closer.
Anna lowered herself until their faces aligned.
Their lips met.
Softly.
Carefully.
Then again.
When they separated, Dante rested his forehead against hers.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
“You’re technically still my medical professional.”
“Suspended.”
“That is not the reassuring legal distinction you think it is.”
She laughed.
Dante smiled.
For several seconds, the conspiracy disappeared.
Then Marco opened the door.
He stopped.
“I can come back.”
Dante sighed.
“No.”
Anna stood.
Marco attempted not to smile.
Failed.
“We traced another payment.”
That ended the moment.
The payment did not go to Vittorio.
It went to Vincent.
Father and son were both connected.
But Marco had found something stranger.
The transactions began before Vincent was old enough to control any company accounts.
Meaning somebody else started the scheme.
Vittorio remained the strongest possibility.
Yet Luca’s recording mentioned “somebody inside the family,” singular.
The following evening, the gala began.
Dante entered through the front doors.
Not hidden.
Not rushed.
Anna walked beside him.
Hundreds of guests turned.
Cameras flashed.
Dante wore the tuxedo jacket he had learned to put on himself.
Anna knew how much that mattered.
He knew she knew.
Their eyes met briefly.
No words were necessary.
Vittorio approached.
“You came.”
“I said I would.”
Vittorio looked toward Anna.
“And brought her.”
“Yes.”
“After everything?”
“Especially after everything.”
Vincent appeared behind his father.
His smile looked strained.
The evening progressed.
Dante delivered his speech.
He addressed the leak directly.
“My medical history is not shameful,” he told the room. “Using a wheelchair is not a moral failure, a leadership failure, or evidence that another person should make decisions for me.”
Applause rose.
Anna felt tears threaten.
Then Dante continued.
“The shame belongs to whoever altered private records to manipulate public perception.”
Across the ballroom, Vincent stopped smiling.
Dante saw it.
So did Anna.
After the speech, Marco whispered through Dante’s earpiece.
Someone had entered the restricted office upstairs.
The trap had worked.
Dante and Anna moved toward the elevator.
Marco’s team surrounded the upper floor.
They opened the office.
A figure stood at the desk.
Not Vittorio.
Not Vincent.
Sofia.
Anna stopped breathing.
Sofia held Luca’s recovered phone.
Dante stared at her.
“Sofia?”
She looked terrified.
“I can explain.”
Then a gunshot shattered the window.
Everyone dropped.
Marco pulled Dante backward.
Anna hit the floor.
Sofia screamed.
The recovered phone fell.
A second shot struck the desk.
Someone outside was firing into the room.
Marco’s guards moved.
Within seconds, the shooter disappeared into the city.
Nobody was injured.
But the phone had been destroyed.
Dante looked toward Sofia.
“What were you doing?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I was trying to save my daughter.”
“From whom?”
Sofia shook her head.
“I can’t tell you.”
Dante’s voice broke.
“Luca died because nobody told me the truth. Don’t do this again.”
Sofia covered her face.
Then finally whispered:
“Vincent.”
Dante froze.
Sofia looked up.
“But Vincent isn’t the one behind it.”
“Then who is?”
Sofia’s answer changed everything.
“Your father.”
Dante stared at her.
“My father is dead.”
Sofia shook her head.
May you like
“No, Dante.”
And somewhere below them, the gala continued as though the dead had not just returned.
