CHAPTER 5 The Plan Was Always Her
Dante did not sleep that night.
Neither did Sofia.
The Moretti estate remained under lockdown while Luca’s men searched every floor, every tunnel, every camera feed, every employee record, and every inch of the surrounding grounds.
Adrian Vale was gone.
Enzo was alive.
Marina was dead.
And somewhere between those facts lay the truth about Matteo.
Sofia sat on the edge of the enormous bed in Dante’s private guest suite and watched her son sleep.
He looked peaceful.
That felt obscene.
The world around him had become a nightmare, yet Matteo slept with one hand beneath his cheek, his toy car still trapped in his fingers.
She reached over and gently removed it.
His fingers tightened.
Sofia smiled faintly.
“Stubborn.”
“Definitely yours.”
Dante’s voice came from the doorway.
She turned.
He had removed his jacket.
His sleeves were rolled to his forearms.
There was blood on one cuff.
Her gaze stopped there.
“Whose?”
Dante looked down.
“Not mine.”
“That was not the question.”
He entered.
“Enzo’s.”
Sofia’s expression hardened.
“You said alive.”
“He is.”
“That does not mean unharmed.”
“No.”
She stood.
“What did you do?”
“What was necessary.”
“Dante.”
He looked at Matteo.
Then lowered his voice.
“I asked questions.”
“With your fists?”
“Eventually.”
She stared at him.
He did not apologize.
Of course he didn’t.
Sofia crossed her arms.
“Did you learn anything?”
“Yes.”
The anger disappeared.
“What?”
Dante walked toward the sitting area and placed a folder on the table.
Sofia followed.
“What is that?”
“Everything Enzo remembered about the Circle.”
“Remembered?”
“He claims he was never a full member.”
“You believe him?”
“No.”
Dante sat.
“But I believe fear.”
Sofia remained standing.
“Meaning?”
“When he realized Vale had been present at Matteo’s birth, he became afraid.”
“I saw that.”
“Enzo does not frighten easily.”
“Neither do you.”
Dante looked at her.
“That is debatable.”
Sofia frowned.
He said nothing more.
She sat opposite him.
“Tell me.”
Dante opened the folder.
Inside was a diagram.
Names.
Lines.
Symbols.
Companies.
Politicians.
Doctors.
Families.
Some marked dead.
Others missing.
At the center was the same black symbol.
The Circle.
Sofia stared.
“This is bigger than our families.”
“Yes.”
“How big?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That seems to be happening a lot.”
Dante leaned back.
“I dislike it more than you do.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he pointed toward the diagram.
“Enzo says the Circle began generations ago.”
“As what?”
“A private alliance between powerful families.”
“Criminal?”
“Some.”
“Political?”
“Yes.”
“Financial?”
“Yes.”
“So basically everyone awful.”
Dante’s mouth twitched.
“That is one interpretation.”
“What did they want?”
“Continuity.”
She frowned.
“That sounds harmless.”
“It wasn’t.”
Dante tapped the paper.
“They believed power was wasted when families fought, heirs failed, marriages fractured, or fortunes were divided.”
“So they arranged marriages.”
“At first.”
“And later?”
“They started managing succession.”
Sofia felt cold.
“Children.”
“Yes.”
“Like Matteo.”
“Yes.”
She looked toward the bedroom.
Dante noticed.
His expression changed.
“No one is touching him.”
“You cannot know that.”
“I can make it true.”
“That sounds like something you believe because people normally obey you.”
“They usually do.”
“The Circle clearly doesn’t.”
Silence.
Dante accepted that.
Sofia looked back at the folder.
“What does designated mean?”
“Enzo was vague.”
“Because he didn’t know?”
“Because he was afraid to say.”
“That is worse.”
“Yes.”
“What did he finally say?”
Dante hesitated.
Sofia caught it immediately.
“What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“You pause before lying.”
“I did not lie.”
“You were deciding whether to.”
Dante stared at her.
Three years apart, and she still knew him too well.
“Enzo believes designated children are raised to inherit influence beyond one family.”
“Raised by whom?”
“The Circle.”
Sofia went still.
“No.”
“Listen.”
“No. Matteo is not being raised by anyone but me.”
“And me.”
Her eyes snapped toward him.
Dante held her gaze.
The words were not possessive.
Not this time.
They were simply fact.
Sofia swallowed.
“And you.”
“Good.”
She hated how much that word affected her.
“What happens to the parents?”
she asked.
Dante’s face became unreadable.
Sofia felt dread.
“What happens?”
“Sometimes they remain.”
“Sometimes?”
“Yes.”
“And the others?”
He did not answer.
Her stomach twisted.
“Dante.”
“Removed.”
The word landed coldly.
She stared.
“Killed?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“We don’t know.”
Sofia stood abruptly.
“No.”
Dante stood too.
“Sofia.”
“No. They are not taking him.”
“They won’t.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“How?”
He stepped closer.
“Because now I know they exist.”
She laughed bitterly.
“And that makes you invincible?”
“No.”
“Then stop speaking like it.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
“You have it.”
“No. I want you to admit you don’t know whether you can protect us.”
Silence.
The question hung between them.
Dante looked toward the bedroom.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Sofia saw him struggle with uncertainty.
Then he said quietly, “I don’t know.”
She stopped.
He continued.
“I don’t know everything about them.”
His jaw tightened.
“I don’t know how deep they are inside my organization.”
Another pause.
“I don’t know who helped Vale enter this estate.”
His eyes met hers.
“And I cannot promise that nothing will happen.”
Sofia’s anger weakened.
“But?”
“But I can promise that I will not stop until every person connected to them is dead or incapable of reaching you.”
There he was.
Dante.
Terrifying.
Absolute.
And somehow, at that moment, comforting.
Sofia hated herself for finding safety in it.
“You really do solve everything with violence.”
“Not everything.”
“What don’t you solve with violence?”
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
The answer became obvious.
Her pulse changed.
Dante noticed.
Of course he did.
The room became smaller.
She looked away.
“This isn’t the time.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to.”
His voice lowered.
“You always knew what I was thinking.”
“That was the problem.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“That was one of the reasons I wanted you.”
Sofia froze.
Wanted.
Past tense?
Present?
She should not care.
She did.
“Enzo said you knew me before the engagement.”
Dante said nothing.
“So it’s true.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
“And you never told me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He looked at her.
“Because it would have sounded insane.”
She laughed softly.
“We are discussing a secret organization that planned our child before he existed.”
“Fair point.”
Sofia sat again.
“Tell me.”
Dante remained standing.
“About what?”
“Me.”
His expression changed.
“What about you?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You said you noticed me when I was nineteen.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Dante looked uncomfortable.
That alone made her curious.
“You remember the fundraiser?”
“Barely.”
“You defended a waiter.”
“He didn’t deserve what that man said.”
“I know.”
“You were watching?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You always know.”
“Not then.”
He walked toward the window.
Sofia watched him.
For a man who could describe murder without blinking, Dante Moretti seemed remarkably reluctant to discuss feelings.
“You were angry,” he said.
“At the guest?”
“Yes.”
“He was horrible.”
“You told him money did not make him important.”
Sofia remembered.
“Oh God.”
Dante almost smiled.
“You told him that if being rich required becoming an asshole, you were glad your father had failed to teach you properly.”
She covered her face.
“I said that?”
“Yes.”
“In public?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like me.”
“It did.”
She lowered her hands.
“And then?”
“You left.”
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Dante looked at her.
“I asked who you were.”
Her heartbeat changed.
“Why?”
“I wanted to know.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only one I had.”
He returned toward the table.
“I learned you were Carlo Bellini’s daughter.”
“And?”
“I decided that was unfortunate.”
She laughed.
“Because you hated my father?”
“Yes.”
“That didn’t stop you.”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
She stared.
“Nothing?”
“For nearly a year.”
“That does not sound like you.”
“I had other problems.”
“Women?”
Dante’s eyes sharpened.
Sofia immediately regretted asking.
Why did she care?
“I was not celibate.”
The answer irritated her more than it should have.
Dante saw it.
His mouth curved slightly.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Look pleased.”
“You asked.”
“I asked a question.”
“And disliked the answer.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“Arrogant.”
“Jealous.”
“I am not jealous.”
“Good.”
His smile disappeared.
“Because there hasn’t been anyone since you.”
Silence.
Sofia stared.
“What?”
Dante looked away.
“You heard me.”
“No.”
Her voice softened despite herself.
“I heard words. I don’t believe them.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“Three years?”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe Dante Moretti spent three years alone?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He turned.
There was no amusement now.
“Because I was looking for my fiancée.”
Her breath caught.
“You hated me.”
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I can hate you and still want you.”
The honesty struck hard.
Dante stepped closer.
“I did hate you.”
His voice lowered.
“I hated waking up wondering where you were.”
Another step.
“I hated seeing women with dark hair and thinking they might be you.”
Sofia’s chest tightened.
“I hated finding false leads.”
He stopped in front of her.
“And I hated that every time I imagined finally finding you, the first thing I wanted to do was make sure you were alive.”
Sofia could not speak.
Three years.
She had imagined his rage.
Never this.
“You searched that long because of pride.”
“I told myself that.”
“And?”
“It was a lie.”
The room became very quiet.
Dante looked toward Matteo.
“I know that now.”
Sofia felt something inside her begin to break open.
Dangerous.
Old.
Unfinished.
She stood.
“Don’t.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Do not make this harder.”
“Make what harder?”
“Everything.”
His eyes held hers.
“You think it’s easy for me?”
“I think you’re used to getting what you want.”
“Yes.”
“And you want us.”