Dante doubled security before midnight.
Clara hated it.
She hated the guards outside Lucy’s room.
She hated the cameras.
She hated knowing that a seven-year-old girl had somehow become a piece on a board controlled by men she had never met.
Most of all, she hated herself for bringing Lucy into it.
Dante found her in the conservatory shortly after 1:00 a.m.
Snow pressed against the glass ceiling.
Clara sat curled on a wicker sofa.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“I noticed.”
He sat across from her.
Clara looked toward the dark garden.
“I should take Lucy and disappear.”
“No.”
“You don’t own us.”
“I know.”
“Then stop saying no like you do.”
Dante leaned forward.
“If you disappear, you become easier to reach.”
“What if we leave the state?”
“Sanz has contacts.”
“The country?”
“You have a passport?”
“No.”
“Lucy?”
“No.”
“Then that plan has logistical flaws.”
Clara glared.
He almost smiled.
She looked away.
“I’m scared.”
The admission changed his expression.
“I know.”
“I keep pretending I’m not because Lucy watches everything I do.”
“She knows you’re scared.”
“Great.”
“She also knows you stay.”
Clara looked at him.
“That matters more.”
Silence stretched.
Then Clara asked the question she had avoided.
“Why did your enemies kill your family?”
Dante’s face closed.
“You don’t have to answer.”
He stared at the snow.
“I made a decision.”
“What kind?”
“I refused a partnership.”
“With Moretti?”
His eyes shifted to her.
“You listen.”
“I live in a house where everyone whispers.”
He nodded.
“Ten years ago, Carlo Moretti wanted access to my transportation network. I refused.”
“What kind of network?”
“Businesses. Warehouses. Trucks.”
Clara knew there was more.
She did not push.
“Moretti wanted to punish me.”
“So he planted the bomb?”
“One of his people did.”
“And he’s still alive?”
“No.”
The finality of the answer told her enough.
“Did killing him help?”
Dante looked at her.
Nobody had ever asked him that.
“No.”
The answer came quietly.
“It didn’t bring them back.”
Clara’s eyes softened.
“That’s why Sophia’s room is locked.”
“Yes.”
“You think moving forward means leaving them behind.”
Dante stared at her.
“You’re very comfortable analyzing me.”
“You’re very easy to analyze.”
“That is the first time anyone has said that.”
“You have nineteen empty chairs at dinner.”
His expression changed.
Clara continued gently.
“You built your grief into the furniture, Dante.”
He looked away.
She immediately wondered whether she had gone too far.
Then he said, “Elena used to complain the table was ridiculous.”
Clara smiled.
“Was she right?”
“Usually.”
“Did you love her?”
“With everything I had.”
Clara nodded.
“Then loving someone again wouldn’t erase that.”
Dante looked at her.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
“Who said anything about loving someone again?”
Clara’s cheeks warmed.
“I meant people generally.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“That look.”
“What look?”
“The one where you pretend you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”
For the first time in years, Dante laughed.
Not a polite sound.
A real laugh.
Clara stared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s twice you’ve said that when it was definitely something.”
Their eyes held.
Then Dante’s phone rang.
The moment vanished.
Marco.
Dante answered.
“What?”
He listened.
His expression hardened.
“Keep him there.”
He ended the call.
“Ryan?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He tried to access Lucy’s school records.”
“Why?”
“To change her emergency contacts.”
Clara stood.
“I’m going with you.”
“No.”
“Dante.”
“This conversation will not be pleasant.”
“He’s Lucy’s father.”
“Exactly.”
“Then I’m going.”
Twenty minutes later, they entered a private conference room at Dante’s Manhattan office.
Ryan sat at the table.
He looked irritated rather than frightened.
“You can’t detain me.”
Dante remained standing.
“You came voluntarily.”
“Your men blocked my car.”
“They asked you to talk.”
“With their hands inside their coats.”
Marco shrugged.
“They have cold hands.”
Clara stepped forward.
Ryan saw her.
“Clara.”
“Why are you changing Lucy’s school records?”
Ryan leaned back.
“I’m her father.”
“You abandoned her.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You disappeared for four years.”
“I was dealing with things.”
“Victor Sanz?”
Ryan’s expression changed.
That was enough.
Clara stared at him.
“You sent Mom to him.”
Ryan looked away.
“She needed money.”
“You knew what he was.”
“She was an adult.”
“She was dying!”
“I didn’t force her to borrow.”
Clara slapped both palms onto the table.
“She trusted you because you were Lucy’s father.”
Ryan stood.
“And what exactly are you doing now? Living with him?”
He pointed at Dante.
“You think he’s rescuing you?”
Dante’s expression darkened.
Clara did not move.
Ryan laughed.
“You have no idea who he is.”
“I know exactly who he’s been to Lucy.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. Present.”
Ryan went silent.
Clara stepped closer.
“You don’t get to disappear for four years and then show up pretending biology makes you a father.”
Ryan’s face hardened.
“You want to keep her?”
“Yes.”
“Then pay what your mother owed.”
Dante went completely still.
Clara whispered, “So this is about money.”
Ryan realized his mistake.
Too late.
Marco’s phone had been recording.
Dante slowly sat.
“Continue, Ryan.”
Ryan looked toward the door.
Dante’s voice lowered.
“You came into my building demanding payment in exchange for abandoning a custody claim.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It sounded remarkably close.”
Ryan swallowed.
Dante leaned forward.
“Where is Sanz?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I don’t.”
“Where?”
Ryan looked at Clara.
Then Dante.
“He’s planning to leave.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“From where?”
Ryan hesitated.
Marco stepped forward.
Ryan answered quickly.
“An airfield near Poughkeepsie.”
Dante looked at Marco.
“Verify.”
Marco left.
Clara stared at Ryan.
“Did you ever love her?”
Ryan frowned.
“Who?”
“Lucy.”
The fact that he needed clarification answered the question.
Clara’s eyes filled.
“You don’t deserve her.”
Ryan looked away.
She left.
Dante followed.
In the elevator, Clara pressed a hand over her mouth.
Dante said nothing.
Then she began crying.
Quietly.
He had never known what to do with tears.
Power was useless against grief.
Money was useless.
Threats were worse than useless.
So he simply stood beside her.
When the elevator reached the lobby, Clara suddenly turned and pressed her face against his chest.
Dante froze.
Her hands gripped his jacket.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I just need one minute.”
His arms slowly closed around her.
“Take two.”
She laughed through tears.
Dante closed his eyes.
It had been ten years since he had held a woman this way.
There was no seduction in it.
No expectation.
Just warmth.
Human warmth.
And it terrified him.
That night, they returned home after Lucy was asleep.
Dante walked upstairs.
He stopped outside Sophia’s room.
Then unlocked it.
Clara stood several feet behind him.
“Come in.”
She hesitated.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
That made her smile sadly.
She entered.
Dante picked up Sophia’s music box.
“I bought this in Florence.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“She hated it.”
Clara blinked.
“What?”
“She wanted one with a horse. I bought the ballerina because I thought it was elegant.”
Clara laughed.
Dante smiled.
“She told me it was boring.”
“That sounds like a six-year-old.”
“She was opinionated.”
“Wonder where she got that.”
He looked at Clara.
“You’re getting very brave.”
“I’m living with a mafia boss. Apparently danger is my new hobby.”
He shook his head.
Then his gaze settled on Sophia’s bed.
“I missed so much.”
Clara stood beside him.
“Yes.”
He looked at her sharply.
Most people would have told him otherwise.
She did not.
“You missed everything after six,” Clara said softly. “That’s terrible. And unfair. And nothing will make it okay.”
Dante swallowed.
“But she had six years with you.”
His eyes lowered.
“Those years still count.”
Something in him gave way.
He sat on the bed.
Clara sat beside him.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Then Dante reached for her hand.
She let him.
Downstairs, Marco received a message.
The airfield information was real.
But Sanz was not planning to flee.
He was arranging a meeting.
With Carlo Moretti’s surviving brother.
And the subject of that meeting was not Clara’s debt.
It was Dante.
Marco ran upstairs.
He stopped outside Sophia’s room, startled to find the door open.
“Dante.”
Dante immediately stood.
“What?”
“We intercepted Sanz’s call.”
“And?”
“They’ve been watching the estate.”
Clara went pale.
“Lucy?”
Marco nodded.
“They know about her.”
Dante’s face became stone.
“What do they want?”
“You.”
Dante understood before Marco finished.
Sanz intended to use Clara and Lucy to draw Dante out.
The debt had never been the real objective.
It was bait.
Clara whispered, “We brought this here.”
Dante turned toward her.
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“They chose this.”
He walked toward the door.
Clara caught his arm.
“What are you going to do?”
Dante looked at her hand.
Then at her.
“For ten years, I thought protecting people meant keeping them out of my life.”
He glanced around Sophia’s room.
“I was wrong.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m ending this without losing another family.”
Clara’s breath caught at the word.
Family.
Dante seemed to realize he had said it too.
Neither corrected him.