Chapter 4
Dante went downstairs himself.
The old council room smelled of dust and cedar.
The walls were bare.
Empty shelves.
One broken lock.
And a single chair pulled away from the long table.
His father’s chair.
Someone had been sitting in it.
Dante stopped beside it.
Nico stayed near the door.
“You want the room searched?”
“It already has been.”
Nico frowned.
Dante looked at the dust.
Every surface was coated.
Except one rectangle on the table.
Something had rested there recently.
A box.
Large.
Removed.
Nico exhaled.
“Inside job.”
Dante looked toward him.
Nico’s face tightened.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
Dante touched the clean rectangle.
“You’re right.”
Footsteps behind them.
Vivienne.
Of course.
She entered without permission.
Dante did not turn.
“You seem comfortable following me into locked rooms.”
She smiled.
“Maybe you should stop keeping interesting things behind doors.”
Her heels clicked across the floor.
She stopped beside his father’s chair.
Then ran one fingertip across the back.
“You know what I like about your father?”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“You never met him.”
“I met his voice.”
She leaned toward the chair.
“He sounded smarter than you.”
Dante turned slowly.
Vivienne smiled directly into his anger.
There it was.
She wanted it.
Wanted the explosion.
“Does that bother you?”
“No.”
“It should.”
She folded her arms.
“He knew exactly what men like you become.”
“Men like me?”
“Men who think having a frightened room means having a loyal one.”
Dante stared.
The insult had truth inside it.
That made it more dangerous.
Then he asked:
“Why Ava?”
Vivienne’s smile thinned.
“Because you love her more than the family.”
Dante’s expression did not move.
“And?”
“That makes you weak.”
“You chained a child to prove a theory.”
“She survived.”
Cold.
Dismissive.
“Honestly, Dante, if twenty minutes on a porch destroys her, she was never going to survive being your daughter.”
Nico’s hand closed.
Dante raised one finger.
Nico stopped.
Vivienne saw it.
She smiled wider.
“There.”
She pointed at Nico.
“Everyone waits for permission to breathe.”
Dante stepped closer.
“What did the recording say?”
Vivienne’s eyes glittered.
“Ask Thomas.”
“No.”
Dante looked toward the clean rectangle.
“You heard it.”
Her breathing shifted.
Slightly.
Dante noticed.
“What did it say?”
She lifted her chin.
“Your father predicted a child would become your weakness.”
“Which child?”
Vivienne’s smile disappeared.
One second.
Enough.
Dante’s gaze sharpened.
“He said Ava.”
No answer.
“Eleven years before she was born?”
Vivienne froze.
There it was.
She had said too much.
Dante stepped closer.
“You told everyone my dead father ordered you to use my daughter.”
Her breathing became shallow.
“But he couldn’t have named her.”
Vivienne’s eyes flickered toward the doorway.
Dante followed.
Thomas stood there.
Silent.
His face had changed.
Dante looked back at Vivienne.
“You lied about the recording.”
She recovered quickly.
“Not completely.”
“What did it actually say?”
Thomas spoke.
“Enough.”
Dante turned.
Thomas’s arrogance remained.
But his hand was gripping the doorframe.
“Go upstairs.”
“No.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened.
Dante took one step toward him.
“You don’t command me in my father’s room.”
Thomas laughed.
“You think it was his room?”
Dante stopped.
Thomas’s smile returned.
“Ask your mother.”
The room went silent.
May you like
Dante’s mother had disappeared sixteen years earlier.
The family had always said she was dead.
