Chapter 4 - A Catalyst Named Emily
Dante leaned against the window, shoulders shaking and tears gathering in his eyes as he clutched his ribs. "The—the surcharge," he gasped, pointing a finger at Emily before another bark of laughter echoed off the glass walls.
Sal remained frozen on the floor while Emily stood perfectly still, patiently waiting for the mafia don to finish. Eventually, Dante's laughter subsided into a deep, shuddering breath as he wiped a tear from his eye.
The dead, hollow void in his eyes was gone, replaced by a sharp, glittering light that made him look terrifyingly alive. Dante walked slowly toward the desk, took the Montblanc pen from her hand, and scrawled his signature across the bottom of the depreciation form.
"Thank you," Emily said, picking up the folder and holding it firmly against her chest.
Dante looked down at Sal with a hardened jaw while humor still danced behind his eyes. "Get him out of here and take him to the warehouse. Emily is right. The rugs are new."
The guards hauled Sal away immediately, leaving Dante and Emily alone in the quiet office. Dante watched her walk toward the door, noticing the way her posture remained rigidly professional despite the chaos.
Emily paused at the threshold, turning back to address her boss with characteristic bluntness. "I'll need the receipts from the South Side network by four o'clock, Mr. Marino."
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Dante gave a single, slow nod, a ghost of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. "You'll have them, Emily."
As the heavy oak doors clicked shut, Dante sat back down in his reclaimed walnut chair. The silence of the room no longer felt suffocating; it felt like a quiet space waiting to be filled.
