Chapter 2 - The Grieving Widow's Mistake
The safehouse was a brutalist concrete mansion hidden deep in the woods, hours away from the city.
I sat on a velvet sofa wrapped in a dry blanket, holding a mug of coffee that I couldn't bring myself to drink.
Dante stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a white bandage wrapped around his head, watching the morning sun break through the trees.
The massive television on the wall was muted, but the breaking news banner at the bottom of the screen screamed in bright red letters.
BILLIONAIRE DANTE MORETTI FEARED DEAD IN TRAGIC CLIFFSIDE CRASH.
Marcus walked into the room, holding a tablet.
“Boss. She’s on TV.”
Dante didn't turn around. “Turn it up.”
Marcus unmuted the television, and Vanessa Moretti’s flawless face filled the screen.
She was dressed in a conservative black dress, her makeup perfectly smudged to suggest a night of endless weeping.
She stood before a podium at Moretti Global headquarters, flanked by corporate lawyers.
“My husband was my entire world,” Vanessa said, her voice trembling with practiced grief.
“His sudden loss is a tragedy I cannot begin to fathom. But Dante would want his legacy to remain strong.”
I felt sick to my stomach watching her wipe away a fake tear.
“Effective immediately,” Vanessa continued, “I will be stepping in as acting CEO of Moretti Global to ensure stability during this devastating time.”
Dante let out a dark, humorless chuckle.
“She couldn't even wait twenty-four hours to steal the throne.”
“There's more,” Marcus said, his tone grim.
He tapped the screen of his tablet and handed it to Dante.
Dante glanced at it, then turned his intense gaze to me.
“Ms. Fields. Where do you live?”
“Apartment 4B, 112th Street,” I replied, my pulse suddenly racing. “Why?”
“Because,” Dante said softly, “the local fire department is currently putting out a gas explosion at that exact address.”
The mug slipped from my hands, shattering on the hardwood floor and spilling hot coffee everywhere.
“No. My cat… my things…”
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“I’m sorry,” Dante said, his voice softer than I’d heard it before.
“They know you ran after me. They tried to erase you.”
