Chapter 16 - Alisa
Ever since dinner with Dante’s family, I’d been learning all I could about my father. That night, I defended my father’s motivations, but I was still left with the feeling that Dante and his brothers already had their minds made up about what kind of a man my father was.
Their biases made sense, given who they were and who my father was. The Bratva and the federal prosecutor—they were never meant to sit at the same table.
So while Dante’s family studied my father, I decided that it was time for me to do the same. I was sick and tired of constantly questioning my reality, and desperately hoped to find some answers. I needed closure, and for closure, I needed facts to back up my theory that Papa was being blackmailed.
For the past three days, I’ve buried myself in case files.
I’d started with his earliest cases as prosecutor, desperate to pinpoint when exactly my loving father had transformed into someone who could sell his own daughter.
There had to have been a tipping point, right?
Because no one turns into a monster without cause.
The truth had to be hidden somewhere in this paper trail. It had to be.
One evening, I felt a headache coming on. I’d been sitting in my corner of the library at Dante’s for over seven hours now, yet found nothing at all.
I rubbed my tired eyes and reached for a case file from six years ago. Inside was another conviction—money laundering for the Cortez family. I’d seen my father’s name in the newspaper for that one. He’d been praised for his integrity, his unwavering commitment to justice.
I knew there’d be no point going through that one.
With a groan, I tossed it aside.
Just then, I heard the library door open. When I looked up, I saw Dante standing there with two cups of coffee, the comforting smell reaching my nose.
“I can’t believe you’re still at it.” He shook his head as he walked over and set down a mug in front of me. “I came home and saw the library lights still on. Thought you might need this.” He nodded at the coffee.
“Thanks,” I said, taking a grateful sip. “Any word from Federico?”
“He’s still digging,” Dante replied, grabbing a chair opposite me. His eyes swept over the explosion of papers. “Find anything interesting?”
I sighed. “Nothing of interest. It seems my father is as clean as they get.”
“What have you been researching anyway?” he asked curiously.
“Just his case files since I started,” I explained.
He nodded. “You know,” he picked one up and flipped through it, before chucking it aside, “there might be better ways to go about this.”
“What do you mean?” My eyes flickered over to his with keen interest.
“I mean, corrupt man—”
“Blackmailed men—” I cut him off with a frown.
“Most influential men,” Dante started, putting the argument to rest, “value their reputation because their reputation is power. Your father wouldn’t let his corruption, or less-than-virtuous behaviour, show on in cases for the public record.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked with a frown.
“I’m saying let me help.”
“We?” My eyebrows shot up.
“Yes, we,” he said firmly. “I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone, especially since you haven’t stepped out of here for what? Four days now? Unless it’s to sleep. But you haven’t even been doing that.”
My throat tightened. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. He’d been doing this a lot lately—small gestures that kept catching me off guard. Bringing me coffee. Making sure I ate. And now, diving into this mess with me without being asked.
“Okay.” My voice sounded childlike, small. Honestly? I needed his help, any help, even though I hadn’t said. “Where should we start?”
“The case files could lead to something, sure,” he nodded, but then got a faraway look. “But it’s the paper trails… “ He got a faraway look, then snapped back to attention. “His public financial records, you got those?”
“Thank you,” My voice cracked with relief, and I moved to find the records he wanted before sliding half the stack toward him. “What are we to look for?”
“We’re looking for anything unusual,” he said. “Large deposits close to verdict dates or right after. Transfers to and from unknown banks or vague companies.”
“Okay.” I nodded and started to make a list of verdict dates to later cross-check with the financials. We worked in silence for a while, but the whole time, I kept stealing glances at him.
He never looked up from the papers in front of him. His focus remained laser-sharp, something I came to admire.
This was a different Dante than I remembered. The man I’d fallen for couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes. This man was methodical and patient.
When had that happened?
The hours blurred together as we dug deeper.
We found campaign donation records, showing my father had political aspirations beyond his role as a prosecutor.
Most donations seemed legitimate, but Federico had flagged a few companies for us to investigate—shell corporations that might lead back to organized crime.
Dante’s phone rang around midnight. He answered, stepping away slightly, but I could still hear his side of the conversation.
“What did you find?… No, absolutely not… Because it could lead back to us, or worse, to her… Just keep digging, but don’t make contact with anyone he’s prosecuted… Yeah, I know, but it’s too risky… Thanks, Fed.”
“What happened?” I asked the minute he ended the call.
Dante turned to me. “Federico wants to reach out to some people your father put away. I told him it’s too dangerous.”
“He’s right, though,” I argued. “Those people might know something.”
Dante shook his head. “It’s dangerous. One of them might tell your father someone’s asking questions, and he could trace it back to not just Federico, but us. You and me. You.”
“Why would they?” I protested. “These are people my father put in jail, right?”
“Sometimes, getting two years’ jail time is a favor, since it could have been worse. Chances are, some of the people he’s convicted owe him for an under-the-table deal.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I admitted with a sigh.
“I know,” he sighed and plonked back down on his chair.
I sat back and watched him. The decision he just took to keep us off my father’s radar was an attempt at protection and made something warm unfurl in my chest. After what felt like a lifetime of fending for myself, having someone care about my safety was… nice.
***
The next evening, much to my surprise, Dante insisted on helping out again. We’d combed through dozens of cases, plenty of financial records, hundreds of articles, and still hadn’t found the smoking gun we were looking for.
We did find some breadcrumbs in the form of some dismissals that looked suspicious, but it wasn’t enough. With an illustrious career spanning decades, my father, like any other person in his position, was bound to have made a few bad calls.
So that’s what we were left with—nothing suspicious enough to be concrete.
I was getting tired, weary, worn out.
It had been five days of being holed up in here, and I found myself reading the same sentence over and over again, without it registering in my mind.
After another hour of being hunched up over the desk, Dante stood and stretched. His shirt rode up slightly, and I couldn’t help but catch sight of the strip of tanned skin and muscle. I quickly looked away.
“We need a break,” Dante yawned.
“But it’s only eight,” I protested, glancing at the wall clock.
“I know,” Dante shrugged. “But we can’t keep burning the midnight oil, Alisa. Sometimes, a break helps us see things a tired brain misses.”
“But—”
“Come on!” he grinned. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“I am, but we could just eat something here.” I waved helplessly at the papers around us.
Dante grinned and jumped over the desk. I shrieked in shock as he landed right before me and grabbed both sides of my chair, forcing me to look into his eyes.
“Alisaaaa,” he sang and leaned closer and closer until my heart began to race. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”
I gulped. “Then what does it make Jill?”
“Hangry,” Dante’s lips quirked, like he could read my mind. “You’re starving. Come on, let’s get out of here for a while and clear our heads.”
“And go where?” I asked with a nervous giggle. “Like… a restaurant?”
Did he mean a quick bite in the car or Italian by candlelight? Either way, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
“None, because an unknown crime family is hunting you, and I’m not putting you out there for grabs. But, I know a place,” he added with a mysterious smile. “Somewhere private where no one will find us.”
I hesitated for just a moment, but the walls were starting to close in on me, and the thought of fresh air was tempting.
“Fine,” I agreed. “But let’s not make it a late night. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”
“Deal,” he grinned. “Grab a jacket. It might get cold later.”
Twenty minutes later, we were in his car with the windows down. Dante drove away from the city, through the suburbs, until we were straight on the open road.
“Where are we going?” I asked again as we pulled into a drive-through.
“There’s no food where we’re going,” he answered mysteriously once again and placed an order for burgers, fries, and milkshakes. Somehow, he remembered exactly how I liked mine—no onions, extra pickles.
After getting our food, he made one more stop, but told me to wait in the car. When he got in and handed me the bag, I took a peek and saw a bottle of wine and two plastic cups.
“Burgers and wine? Really?” I shook my head in mock protest.
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” he defended himself with a wink that sent a flutter through my stomach, and stayed there.
We drove for almost an hour more, and the scenery around us grew progressively more beautiful, filled with towering trees and winding roads. Finally, Dante turned onto a narrow path I wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t taken it.