Chapter 14
The moment the door slams behind me, the noise feels too small for the anger inside my chest.
I can still see her face.
The way she looked when she saw Sofia’s name in that goddamn article — like the air had been punched from her lungs.
Like it broke her.
And still, all I can hear is that headline.
The Moretti Empire: Inside New York’s Bloodline of Corruption.
By: Isabella DeLaurentis.
Her name burned into it like a signature on my death warrant.
I grab the glass off my desk and hurl it across the room. It explodes against the wall, amber streaking down white paint like blood down marble.
She was supposed to be different.
Smart. Fearless. Maybe even a little reckless. But not this. Not a liar. Not someone who would use my roof — my trust — to destroy me from the inside.
“Figlio di puttana!” I snarl, slamming my palms on the desk hard enough to rattle it.
The glass still trembles when Alessandro walks in without knocking.
He’s already braced for it — the storm, the aftermath, the violence simmering under my skin.
He’s seen me like this before—too many times.
“Don,” he says quietly, closing the door behind him. “We need to talk.”
“Not now.”
“Yes, now.”
I lift my head, jaw tight. “Choose your words carefully.”
He crosses the room, drops the paper in front of me again like I haven’t already memorized every fucking word. “I already did.”
I stare down at the front page. “Find whoever leaked it.”
“I already found her.”
“Watch yourself.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong.”
I push off the desk, moving until we’re toe to toe. “You think I don’t want answers? That I don’t want to know who sold out my family?”
“I think you’re blind because you want it not to be her.”
The words hit like a fist.
“Don’t,” I warn, voice low.
“She played you,” Alessandro snaps. “Used your roof, your protection, your fucking daughter’s trust. You think she didn’t know what she was doing? That article is a death sentence.”
“She didn’t send it.”
He laughs, sharp and humorless. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” I snarl, grabbing the edge of the desk. “Because if she wanted me dead, she’d have been gone before the ink dried.”
Alessandro’s eyes flash, cold and sharp. “You’re losing perspective.”
“Perspective?” I bark. “I’m the only one keeping this city from collapsing on top of us.”
“Then act like it!” He slams his hand down on the desk beside the paper. “She’s the only person outside this room who had the details to make that story stick. You want to keep pretending she’s innocent, fine—but I’m taking her to the warehouse. I’ll get the truth my way.”
The room tilts. My blood spikes cold. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“Dante—”
“I said no!” The word rips out of me, sharp enough to cut the air. “You lay a hand on her, and I’ll put you in the ground myself.”
He stares at me, chest heaving, disbelief flickering behind the anger. “You’re protecting her? Now? After this?”
“She stays here,” I grind out. “No one touches her.”
“Because you want to fuck her, is that it?”
The silence after that sentence could kill a man.
I move before I think—one hand gripping his shirt, slamming him back into the wall. “Watch your mouth.”
He doesn’t flinch. “You’re letting her cloud your judgment. You always said family first, Don. Family above all. So why does she still have a heartbeat?”
My hand trembles where I hold him. Because he’s right.
Because I don’t have an answer that doesn’t make me look weak.
“Get out,” I say finally, voice rough.
“Dante—”
“I said, get the fuck out!”
He wrenches free, eyes full of something that’s not quite anger anymore. Something closer to pity.
“Then you’d better pray you’re right,” he mutters, brushing past me toward the door. “Because if she isn’t innocent, you just doomed us all.”
The door slams again, and this time the silence feels heavier.
I press both hands to the desk, breathing hard. My pulse won’t settle.
He’s wrong.
He has to be wrong.
I picture her face again — the tears she tried to hide when she saw Sofia’s name. The way she knelt by my daughter’s bed the night before, whispering comfort with her hand tangled in Sofia’s curls.
If that woman could fake that moment, she’s more dangerous than any enemy I’ve ever known.
But I know what real fear looks like.
And what I saw in her eyes wasn’t guilt.
It was heartbreak.
I sink into my chair, drag a hand down my face, and let the truth hit me where it hurts most:
Maybe she’s telling the truth.
Maybe I just destroyed the one person who didn’t deserve it.