06

I barely slept. The weight of everything I had learned pressed against my chest like a stone, making it impossible to rest. My father’s denial echoed in my mind, but so did the evidence Dante had shown me. Could both be true? Could my father have been used without realizing it?

I didn’t know. But I needed to find out.

When I arrived at Dante’s office the next morning, he was already waiting for me. His posture was rigid, his eyes darker than usual. Something was wrong.

“You came fast,” he said as I entered.

“You said it was important,” I replied, closing the door behind me. “What did you find?”

Dante didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he walked to his desk, picked up a folder, and tossed it onto the table in front of me.

“Read it.”

I hesitated for a moment before flipping it open. The first page alone made my stomach drop.

Bank statements. Contracts. A name I hadn’t expected to see.

My hands trembled as I turned another page.

“This… this is a contract between my father and a company registered under your corporation,” I whispered, my throat dry.

Dante nodded, his face unreadable. “It proves that my company handled certain transactions involving your father’s business years ago.”

I looked up at him, confusion and anger surging through me. “You knew about this?”

“I suspected,” he admitted. “But I didn’t have proof—until now.”

I shoved the folder back at him, standing up so fast my chair scraped against the floor. “So all this time, while I was blaming you, while my father was telling me you ruined us… you were involved?”

“Not in the way you think.” Dante’s voice was calm, too calm.

“Then explain it to me,” I snapped. “Because right now, it looks like you and my father were in business together.”

Dante exhaled slowly, his gaze locked on mine. “Your father needed investors. He came to me. At the time, it was just business.”

“And then?”

“Then things changed. He took risks. He made deals with people he shouldn’t have. I pulled out when I saw the direction things were going. I didn’t want my name tied to something illegal.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. If you knew something was off, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I tried,” Dante said, stepping closer. “But you already hated me by then. Would you have listened?”

My pulse pounded in my ears.

Had I been so blinded by resentment that I never questioned what really happened?

I sank back into the chair, my head spinning.

“My father… he swore he wasn’t involved in anything corrupt,” I said, my voice weaker now.

Dante’s jaw tightened. “And maybe he wasn’t. But someone close to him was. That’s what we need to figure out.”

The next few hours were a blur of research, questioning, and frustration.

Dante had his team comb through every document, every bank statement, every lead. I tried to reach my father again, but he wasn’t answering my calls.

The deeper we dug, the more tangled everything became.

One name kept appearing in the files: Marcello Ferrara.

I frowned as I came across his name for the third time in a contract signed under my father’s company. “Who is this guy?”

Dante leaned over my shoulder, scanning the page. “Marcello Ferrara is a ghost. No digital footprint, no solid records. But if his name is attached to these documents, he’s not nobody.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “Could he be the one who used my father’s name?”

Dante’s expression darkened. “Possibly. But if Ferrara is involved, that means this goes deeper than either of us expected.”

I swallowed hard. “And what does that mean for my father?”

Dante didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for his phone, dialing a number. I listened as he spoke in low, sharp tones, ordering someone to dig deeper into Ferrara.

When he finally hung up, he looked at me. “It means we don’t have much time before whoever’s behind this realizes we’re getting close.”

Later that evening, I was still at the office, staring at financial reports, when my phone vibrated on the desk.

Blocked number.

I hesitated before answering. “Hello?”

A pause. Then, a low, rough voice. “You should stop digging, Ms. Duarte.”

Ice shot through my veins. I sat up straight, gripping the phone. “Who is this?”

Another pause. Then: “A friend. Consider this a warning—walk away while you still can.”

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, my heartbeat thundering in my chest.

Someone was watching us.

Someone didn’t want me looking for answers.

I grabbed my things and rushed out of the office, my mind spinning.

When I stepped outside, the night air was sharp against my skin, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were on one thing only—getting to Dante.

I pushed open the door to his office without knocking.

“We have a problem,” I said, my voice breathless.

Dante looked up from his desk, taking in my expression. His eyes darkened instantly. “What happened?”

I set my phone down, replaying the call on speaker. The distorted voice filled the room, the warning clear.

Dante’s jaw clenched. When the recording ended, he looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Pack a bag.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’re staying with me,” he said, already reaching for his phone. “If someone is threatening you, you’re not going home alone.”

My stomach twisted. “Dante, I don’t need.”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he cut me off. “They made the first move. Now we make ours.”