Chapter 7 - The Gold Necklace
Khloe stepped fully into the light, brushing a speck of invisible dust from the sleeve of her crimson coat. She looked exactly as she had on the day I left the townhouse—pristine, arrogant, and utterly lethal.
“Khloe,” Dante’s voice crackled in my ear, thick with a venom I rarely heard. “Get out of there, Mia. Now.”
I couldn't move. My feet felt cemented to the concrete.
“You killed her,” I whispered, staring at Sarah’s body. The handle of the briefcase had been laced with a fast-acting contact neurotoxin. Khloe hadn't just intercepted the meeting; she had hijacked Dante’s own trap.
“She was an employee who outlived her usefulness,” Khloe said dismissively, tapping the red leather ledger against her palm. “She thought she could double-cross Carlo by selling the ledger back to you. Amateurs are so exhausting.”
“Carlo sent you?” I asked, my hand instinctively dropping to shield my stomach.
Khloe laughed, a sharp, tinkling sound that echoed through the warehouse. “Carlo sent me? Oh, my sweet, naive girl. Carlo is rotting in a federal cell. He couldn't order a pizza without my permission, let alone a hit.”
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. The phone call in the car. The orders.
“It wasn't Carlo on the phone,” I realized aloud.
“Deepfake audio is incredibly inexpensive these days,” Khloe smiled, touching the heavy gold necklace at her throat. “Carlo has been a figurehead for years. I run the Chicago syndicate, Mia. And I am tired of my ungrateful stepson tearing my empire apart because he’s obsessed with a pregnant waitress.”
“Mia, drop to the floor,” Dante commanded in my ear, his tone entirely devoid of emotion. It was his executioner’s voice.
I knew what that meant. He was going to take the shot.
But as I bent my knees, Khloe moved with terrifying speed. She didn't draw a gun. She reached into her coat and pulled out a small, black detonator with a blinking red light.
“I wouldn't do that, Dante,” Khloe called out loudly, knowing he was watching through a scope. “The perimeter of this warehouse is lined with C4. If my thumb slips off this dead-man’s switch, the mother of your child is going to be vaporized.”
“Hold,” Dante’s voice snapped in my ear. The panic was finally bleeding through his icy control.
“What do you want, Khloe?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.
“I want the legitimate businesses,” Khloe demanded, her eyes cold and hard. “Dante spent the last three years transferring our clean assets into a blind trust to protect you. He locked the syndicate out of the real estate, the shipping, the hotels. I want the transfer deeds signed back to me tonight.”
“He won't do it,” I bluffed.
“He will,” Khloe smiled, stepping closer to me. “Because if he doesn't, I let go of this button. And even if he shoots me before I do, the explosion will kill you instantly.”
“Tell her we have a deal,” Dante said in my ear, his voice thick with a suffocating desperation. “Tell her whatever she wants.”
“We have a deal,” I said, staring at the woman who had made my life hell. “But you let me walk out of here first.”
“I don't think so,” Khloe tutted. “You and I are going to take a little ride to the charity gala downtown. Dante will meet us there with the transfer deeds. If he tries anything, I blow the warehouse. If he brings the cops, I blow the warehouse.”
She gestured toward a sleek black limousine that had quietly rolled into the back entrance of the warehouse.
“Get in, Mia. Let’s go to a party.”
The ride to the gala was a suffocating nightmare. Khloe sat opposite me, the detonator resting casually in her lap. She offered me champagne, laughing when I recoiled.
“You really thought Dante loved you?” Khloe mused, sipping her drink. “He loved the idea of you. A clean, innocent girl he could protect to make up for his own dirty soul.”
“He loves me,” I said quietly, holding my stomach.
“We’ll see how much he loves you when he has to choose between his empire and your life.”
We arrived at the Grand Continental Hotel. The charity gala was in full swing, a sea of tuxedos and expensive gowns. It was the perfect cover. A public place where Dante couldn't use his sniper teams, and where any violence would guarantee a federal investigation.
Khloe linked her arm through mine, keeping the detonator hidden inside her velvet clutch, pressing the cold metal against my ribs.
We walked into the glittering ballroom.
Dante was already there.
He stood in the center of the room, wearing an immaculate black tuxedo. He looked like a dark god among mortals. The crowd naturally parted around him, sensing the lethal energy radiating from his every pore.
He saw me. His eyes dropped to my stomach, ensuring I was unharmed, before locking onto Khloe.
“Dante, darling,” Khloe smiled, guiding me toward him. “So glad you could make it.”
Dante didn't look at her. He handed a thick manila envelope to her.
“The transfer deeds,” Dante said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. “Signed and notarized. The legitimate businesses are yours. Now give me my wife.”
Khloe took the envelope, a look of absolute triumph washing over her face. She had won. She had broken the Silver King.
She let go of my arm.
I stumbled forward, and Dante caught me, pulling me flush against his chest. I buried my face in his tuxedo jacket, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the frantic, hammering beat of his heart.
“You should have stayed away, Mia,” Khloe announced loudly, drawing the attention of the surrounding guests.
She turned to the room, her voice carrying over the string quartet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Khloe declared, holding up her glass. “Allow me to introduce my stepson’s former wife. She disappeared six months ago, but it seems she returned just in time to present him with a bastard heir.”
Gasps echoed through the ballroom. The whispers began instantly.
Khloe was trying to publicly humiliate me, to strip away my dignity so she could reign supreme over the syndicate and polite society simultaneously.
But Dante didn't flinch.
May you like
He kept one arm securely around my waist and turned to face the crowd.
“She is not my former wife,” Dante stated, his voice echoing with absolute authority, silencing the room instantly. “The divorce papers were never filed.”
