Chapter 6 - THE LINE DANTE COULD NOT CROSS
Dante avoided Clara for most of the next day.
It would have been almost funny under different circumstances.
The man allegedly capable of terrifying half of New York suddenly developed urgent reasons to leave every room Clara entered.
At breakfast, he received a call.
During Rosa’s therapy, he needed to inspect security.
At lunch, he had a meeting.
By dinner, Clara was certain.
“He’s avoiding me.”
Rosa lifted a spoon.
“My son?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“He owns the house.”
“That doesn’t prevent emotional cowardice.”
Rosa nearly choked on her soup.
Clara patted her back.
“Don’t laugh while swallowing.”
Rosa wiped her mouth.
“You have no survival instinct.”
“I’ve been told.”
“He likes you.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because your son hears everything in this house.”
Rosa looked toward the ceiling.
“Dante!”
Clara almost dropped the water pitcher.
Rosa laughed.
“No one came.”
“You’re terrible.”
“Stroke survivor.”
“That excuse expired last week.”
Rosa smiled.
Then her expression softened.
“He hasn’t cared about anyone in a long time.”
“He cares about you.”
“Family doesn’t count.”
Clara sat across from her.
“Why?”
“Because family is obligation to Dante.”
“That’s sad.”
“Yes.”
Rosa looked toward the window.
“After Gabriel died, his father changed him.”
“How?”
“He taught him that love was leverage.”
Clara said nothing.
“Anyone you love can be used against you. Anyone you trust can betray you. Anyone you need can control you.”
Rosa looked at Clara.
“So Dante stopped needing people.”
Clara thought about the photograph.
THE THERAPIST GOES FIRST.
“Maybe that’s why he wants me gone.”
Rosa smiled knowingly.
“Exactly.”
That afternoon, Clara found Dante in his office.
He did not look surprised.
“You’re supposed to knock.”
“I did.”
“I didn’t answer.”
“So I tried again.”
He closed a folder.
“What do you need?”
“A conversation.”
“No.”
Clara sat down.
Dante stared at her.
“You understand how doors work?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Use that knowledge.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
Clara folded her hands.
“You want me to leave because someone threatened me.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No.”
Dante stood.
“Clara.”
“You don’t get to solve everything by ordering people.”
“In this situation, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m responsible for your safety.”
“I’m twenty-six.”
“You’re also living under my roof.”
“Temporarily.”
“Exactly.”
Clara stood too.
“If you’re trying to scare me into leaving, you’re doing a terrible job.”
“I’m not trying to scare you.”
“What are you trying to do?”
Dante stopped.
Clara waited.
His voice lowered.
“Keep you alive.”
Something in the way he said it made her pulse change.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He walked toward the windows.
“The person doing this knows the estate. Knows my mother’s schedule. Knows you matter.”
Clara’s heart beat harder.
“Matter to who?”
Dante did not answer.
She approached slowly.
“Dante.”
His shoulders tightened.
Clara stopped behind him.
“If I matter to Rosa, say that.”
Silence.
“If I matter because I’m useful, say that.”
Still nothing.
“And if this is something else…”
Dante turned.
They were suddenly too close.
Clara had spent weeks noticing his eyes.
She had not noticed how much effort it took him to keep emotion out of them.
Now the effort was failing.
“This is exactly why you need to go.”
Clara barely whispered.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
He stepped away.
Clara let him.
“Fine.”
Dante looked surprised.
She walked toward the door.
Then paused.
“But I’m still not leaving.”
For the first time, she saw actual frustration break through his control.
“Clara—”
She closed the door behind her.
An hour later, Nico found her in the rehabilitation room.
“I owe you an apology.”
“For?”
“The bedroom.”
Clara stopped adjusting Rosa’s resistance bands.
“You weren’t the man who came in.”
“No. But security was my responsibility.”
“Did you find out how he got the key?”
Nico nodded.
“Copied six months ago.”
“By Evan?”
“Probably.”
Clara lowered her voice.
“Do you trust Carlo?”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly she looked up.
“Does Dante?”
“No.”
“Then why is Carlo still involved?”
“Because Salvatore built the organization around blood.”
Nico leaned against the wall.
“Carlo controls people Dante inherited.”
“And Dante wants out?”
Nico studied her.
“Why do you think that?”
Clara thought of the legitimate businesses.
The careful legal files.
The way Dante had called a lawyer instead of sending men after Dr. Vance.
“Because he keeps choosing not to become the man everyone expects.”
Nico’s expression changed.
“That is a dangerous observation.”
“Why?”
“Because it means you understand him.”
Before Clara could answer, the alarm sounded.
Not loud.
Three short tones.
Nico immediately straightened.
“What is that?”
“Security breach.”
He touched his earpiece.
“Location?”
Clara’s pulse jumped.
Nico’s face changed.
“Garage.”
He turned to her.
“Lock this door.”
“What about Rosa?”
“She’s with Dante.”
Nico ran.
Clara locked the door.
Five minutes later, Dante arrived with Rosa.
“What happened?” Clara asked.
“Someone got into the garage.”
“Again?”
“They didn’t enter the house.”
Rosa looked annoyed.
“They ruined my car.”
Clara frowned.
“What?”
Dante’s voice hardened.
“Brake line.”
Clara stared.
Rosa had a neurological appointment the following morning.
A driver was supposed to take her.
Dante looked at Clara.
“This is what I’m talking about.”
Clara understood.
“Someone knew which car.”
“Yes.”
“That means—”
“They still have someone inside.”
The investigation intensified.
Every employee was interviewed.
Phone records were checked.
Security shifts changed.
Dante suspended half the household staff with full pay until the breach was found.
Clara noticed something during dinner.
One of the nurses assigned to Rosa kept looking toward the hallway.
Her name was Melissa Grant.
Thirty-four.
Quiet.
Efficient.
She had been employed by the family for almost a year.
Clara watched her pick up Rosa’s evening medication.
“Wait.”
Melissa stopped.
“What?”
“I’ll give those.”
The nurse hesitated.
“I always do evenings.”
“I know.”
Clara held out her hand.
Melissa smiled.
“Of course.”
She left.
Clara looked at the pills.
Nothing obvious.
Still, something bothered her.
Later, she checked the medication log.
Melissa had signed every evening dose for the week before Rosa’s stroke.
Clara’s pulse jumped.
She found Dante.
“Where is Melissa?”
He frowned.
“Upstairs.”
“No. She just left Rosa.”
Dante saw her face.
“What?”
“Check her.”
“Why?”
“She managed evening medication before the stroke.”
Dante was already moving.
Nico met them halfway up the stairs.
“Melissa Grant just requested permission to leave.”
“Stop her,” Dante said.
Too late.
A car engine roared outside.
Nico ran toward the security room.
Dante and Clara followed.
On the monitor, a black sedan raced toward the gate.
“Close it,” Dante ordered.
The iron gates began sliding.
The sedan accelerated.
It struck the gate before it fully closed, tore through the narrow opening, and vanished onto the road.
Nico grabbed his radio.
Dante stopped him.
“No chase.”
Nico looked at him.
“Why?”
“She wants us following.”
Clara understood immediately.
“A distraction.”
Dante turned.
“Rosa.”
They ran upstairs.
The rehabilitation room was empty.
Rosa’s wheelchair stood beside the table.
Clara’s blood turned cold.
“Rosa!”
No answer.
Then a weak sound came from the bathroom.
They rushed in.
Rosa lay on the floor.
Clara dropped beside her.
“Rosa!”
Her eyes fluttered.
Dante went white.
“What happened?”
Clara checked her pulse.
Fast.
Breathing shallow.
She smelled something chemical near Rosa’s water glass.
“Call an ambulance.”
Dante already had his phone out.
Rosa’s fingers closed weakly around Clara’s wrist.
“Melissa.”
“I know.”
Rosa struggled for breath.
“She said… vitamin.”
Clara looked at Dante.
“Bring the medication bottle.”
Nico found it.
The label looked normal.
Clara opened it.
The pills inside were not.
She had seen them before in hospitals.
Sedatives.
Strong ones.
“Someone drugged her.”
Dante’s face emptied of everything.
Clara looked at him.
“Stay with her.”
“What?”
“Talk to her.”
“I don’t—”
“Dante.”
He knelt beside his mother.
Clara kept checking Rosa’s airway.
Dante took her hand.
“Ma.”
Rosa opened her eyes.
“There you are.”
“I’m here.”
“You look scared.”
Dante swallowed.
“I’m not.”
Rosa almost smiled.
“Liar.”
Sirens approached.
Rosa stabilized in the ambulance.
The doctors said the dose had been dangerous but not fatal.
Dante remained at the hospital until dawn.
Clara sat beside him in the waiting room.
Neither spoke for almost an hour.
Finally Dante said, “You were right.”
“About?”
“Someone inside.”
Clara looked at him.
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have.”
“That isn’t how betrayal works.”
His hands tightened.
“If you expect it from everyone, it isn’t betrayal.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It works.”
“Does it?”
Dante looked at her.
Clara continued.
“You trusted Melissa enough to employ her.”
“And she tried to hurt my mother.”
“You trusted Nico.”
“He’s still here.”
“You trusted me.”
His gaze held hers.
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
Dante looked away.
Clara’s heartbeat changed.
Before she could say anything, Nico appeared at the end of the hallway.
He was holding a phone.
“We found Melissa.”
Dante stood.
“Where?”
“She never made it out of Nassau County.”
“Police?”
“No.”
Nico’s expression became grim.
“Her car crashed near an industrial road.”
Clara stood slowly.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
Dante’s eyes sharpened.
Nico continued.
“And she’s talking.”
They followed him into a private conference room.
Nico placed his phone on speaker.
A detective’s recorded statement played.
Melissa’s voice shook.
“I didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Marino. They said it would only make her sleep.”
A detective asked, “Who?”
Melissa cried.
“They have my brother.”
“Who has him?”
Silence.
Then she answered.
“Carlo Marino.”
Dante’s face became ice.
But Melissa’s next sentence changed everything.
“Carlo isn’t in charge.”
The detective asked, “Then who is?”
Melissa began crying harder.
“The person giving Carlo orders is inside Dante Marino’s own family.”
Dante looked toward Rosa’s hospital room.
Clara felt cold.
Because Rosa had only one surviving child anyone had mentioned.
And suddenly Clara remembered Dante’s words.
My brothers.
Not brother.
Brothers.
May you like
There was another Marino son.
And no one had told her where he was.
