Chapter 4 - The Awakening and The Truth
Two days later, Elena finally opened her eyes.
The sterile beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room.
She panicked instantly, throwing the blankets off, fighting the IV in her arm.
“Mia! Bella! Lily!” she screamed, her throat raw and scratchy.
“They are safe,” a deep, velvet voice said from the corner.
Dante stepped out of the shadows. He hadn’t slept in 48 hours. He wore a simple black button-down, his tie discarded, a dark stubble covering his jaw.
Elena froze, clutching the hospital sheets to her chest.
She stared at him, really stared at him, as if expecting him to vanish like smoke.
“How?” she whispered. “I saw Lorenzo’s men. They wired the car. They said you were inside. The car blew up, Dante. I saw it burn.”
Dante slowly approached the bed, sitting on the edge. He didn’t touch her, afraid she would shatter.
“I wasn’t in the car, Elena,” he said quietly. “My driver was. And a woman who had asked for a ride. She was burned beyond recognition. She had your hair color. They found your purse in the back seat.”
Elena’s eyes widened. “I dropped my purse when I ran. I was hiding in the alley.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?” Dante asked, the pain finally bleeding into his voice. “Why did you let me think you were dead? Seven years, Elena. I died that day, too.”
Elena choked on a sob, covering her face.
“Because Lorenzo’s men were laughing,” she cried. “They said Lorenzo had a mole inside your inner circle. They said even if I warned you, the mole would kill me and the baby. I was pregnant, Dante. I was so scared. I didn’t know who to trust. I thought if I stayed, they would slaughter our child.”
Dante’s blood ran cold.
A mole.
Someone inside his family had betrayed him, forcing the love of his life to live in squalor, starving herself to feed his daughters.
“So you ran,” Dante said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly whisper. “You faked your death and hid in the slums.”
“It was the only way to keep them safe,” she wept. “But then I got sick. I couldn’t work. We had no money. I painted that portrait of myself from memory so the girls could sell it to a pawn shop for food. I never thought... I never thought they would go to Newbury Street.”
Dante finally reached out, pulling her into his chest.
May you like
She resisted for a second, then collapsed against him, her tears soaking his shirt.
“You are never running again,” Dante swore, kissing the top of her head. “And Lorenzo? He is going to beg for a death I will not give him.”
