Chapter 3
I did not kill Javier that night.
Every man in my house expected me to.
Some wanted it.
Some feared it.
Javier expected it most of all.
That was why he kept screaming.
He wanted me angry.
He wanted me reckless.
He wanted the old Dante Romano, the one who solved betrayal with blood and silence.
But Leo sat in my study with bruises on his back and Sofia’s letter in his lap.
So I chose differently.
I called the federal prosecutor who had been trying to put my family away for six years.
Her name was Rachel Monroe.
When she answered, she sounded amused.
“Dante Romano calling me directly. Should I be flattered or alarmed?”
“My son was attacked tonight.”
The humor vanished.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Is he safe?”
I looked at Leo.
He was asleep against Valentina, still wearing his grass-stained shirt.
“For now.”
Rachel went quiet.
“What do you need?”
“I have evidence about my wife’s murder and a charity money-laundering operation using my name.”
A long silence followed.
Then she said, “Do not move anything.”
“I already moved my son away from the man who hurt him.”
“That is acceptable.”
“I’m glad I have your permission.”
“Dante.”
Her voice sharpened.
“If you want this to end in court, not war, then listen to me.”
War.
The word landed heavy.
Because I could already feel it building outside my walls.
Javier had allies.
Father Bellini had power.
The doctor who signed Sofia’s death report still sat on hospital boards and shook hands with judges.
This was not one betrayal.
It was a net.
And my son had pulled the first thread out of the ground.
Rachel arrived before midnight with agents, evidence bags, and a child protection specialist.
My men hated letting them inside.
I ordered the gates opened.
Javier laughed when he saw them.
“Federal agents? You’re hiding behind badges now?”
I walked past him without answering.
Leo woke when the agents entered the study.
He pressed himself against me.
“Are they taking you away?”
The question broke something inside me.
My son had learned fear from my life.
Not just from Javier.
From me.
I crouched in front of him.
“No. They are here because I asked them to help.”
He looked at Rachel.
“She looks mad.”
Rachel blinked.
Then, to her credit, she knelt.
“I am mad,” she said. “But not at you.”
Leo studied her.
“At Javier?”
“Yes.”
“At the bad priest?”
Rachel’s eyes moved to me.
“What bad priest?”
Leo pointed at the rosary from the box.
“Mom said the wolf wears black.”
My mother gasped.
Rachel stood slowly.
“We need to secure Father Bellini immediately.”
Nico stepped forward.
“He is officiating a memorial tonight at St. Catherine’s.”
My blood chilled.
“For whom?”
Nico checked his phone.
“Javier’s father.”
Javier looked down.
Too late.
Rachel saw it.
I saw it.
The memorial was not grief.
It was cover.
Rachel turned to her team.
“Move.”
I grabbed my coat.
She blocked me.
“No.”
“He helped murder my wife.”
“And if you walk into a church full of armed loyalists, this becomes a massacre.”
I looked at Leo.
He was watching me.
Waiting to see which father I would become.
The one Sofia feared?
Or the one she begged me to be?
I stepped back.
“Bring him alive.”
Rachel nodded once.
“I intend to.”
But Father Bellini was gone before agents reached St. Catherine’s.
So was the doctor.
So were three locked donation boxes from the charity office.
On the altar, agents found only one thing.
A white envelope addressed to me.
Inside was a photo of Leo leaving school two days earlier.
May you like
On the back, Father Bellini had written:
Sofia hid one box. I hid the other child.
