Chapter 3 - THE BODYGUARD WHO SOLD HIS LOYALTYDante didn't react immediately.
That frightened Isabella more than shouting would have.
She had seen her husband angry.
She had watched him face armed enemies without blinking.
But she had never seen him look so completely empty.
On the monitor, Marco Bellini stood beside Rafe Callahan in the warehouse corridor.
The date was unmistakable.
Eleven days earlier.
The morning Isabella had been attacked.
"Call Marco," Dante said quietly.
Isabella reached for his hand.
"Dante, wait."
He looked down at her.
"Why?"
"Because the recording might not show everything."
"He's standing beside the man who hurt you."
"I know what it looks like."
"Then tell me something I don't know."
She swallowed.
"Your father wants you to destroy everyone you trust."
Dante studied her.
"And you think Marco is innocent?"
"I don't know."
That answer mattered.
Because Isabella had never been someone who told convenient lies.
Dante pressed the intercom button.
"Marco. Come inside. Alone."
The door opened seconds later.
Marco entered cautiously.
His eyes moved from Dante to the security monitor.
The color drained from his face.
"Boss."
Dante pointed at the frozen image.
"Explain."
Marco stared at it.
His jaw tightened.
"Where did you get that?"
"Wrong question."
Marco looked toward Isabella.
"Mrs. Moretti, I need you to know—"
"Don't speak to her," Dante interrupted. "Speak to me."
Marco's shoulders lowered.
"I was there."
Dante nodded once.
"I can see that."
"I was investigating Callahan."
"Without telling me?"
"Yes."
Dante stepped closer.
"Why?"
"Because someone inside our organization was feeding him information."
Dante stopped.
"What information?"
"Your wife's movements. The foundation's financial records. Your meeting schedules."
Isabella felt sick.
Marco continued.
"I traced payments to a shell company registered in Delaware. The money came through an account connected to your uncle."
Dante stared at him.
"Uncle Salvatore?"
Marco nodded.
Salvatore Moretti was Dante's mother's younger brother.
A charming, silver-haired businessman who publicly managed the Moretti family's charitable trusts.
He was also the only person besides Dante who had unrestricted access to the foundation's largest accounts.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Dante demanded.
"Because I needed proof."
"And while you were collecting it, my wife was beaten."
Marco flinched.
"I didn't know she would be there."
"Then why were you?"
"Callahan promised to identify the person paying him. When I arrived, he said the meeting had been moved. He took me inside, then left through another entrance."
Dante watched him carefully.
"And you believed him?"
"For about thirty seconds. Then I realized it was a setup."
"Where's your evidence?"
Marco reached into his jacket.
Dante immediately raised his pistol.
"Slowly."
Marco stopped.
Then carefully removed a black phone.
"Everything's here."
He placed it on the table.
Dante didn't lower his weapon.
"Unlock it."
Marco obeyed.
The screen displayed a series of encrypted messages.
Most concerned wire transfers.
But one message made Dante's blood run cold.
The wife knows too much. Make sure she attends the warehouse meeting. No visible injuries to the face.
It had been sent from an unregistered number.
Dante scrolled downward.
Another message appeared.
The old man insists she stays alive until the gala.
Dante stared.
"The old man," he repeated.
Marco nodded.
"I've been trying to identify him for months."
"Vittorio Moretti."
Marco's expression changed completely.
For the first time in nineteen years, Dante saw genuine disbelief on his bodyguard's face.
"That's impossible."
"My father is alive."
Marco looked toward Isabella.
She nodded.
"I saw him."
Marco slowly sat down.
"Then God help us."
Dante studied him.
"Why?"
Marco looked up.
"Because your father isn't just trying to take the company."
"What else?"
Marco hesitated.
"Eight months ago, someone began purchasing properties near our shipping facilities. Warehouses, trucking companies, cold-storage buildings. At first, the buyers appeared unrelated."
"Get to the point."
"They all lead back to a holding corporation called Meridian Crown."
Dante knew the company.
It had recently attempted to acquire Moretti Holdings.
He had rejected its offer.
"Meridian Crown belongs to my father?"
"Partly."
"Who owns the rest?"
Marco's expression darkened.
"A private equity investor named Adrian Cross."
Isabella gasped.
Dante turned immediately.
"What?"
She gripped the edge of the sofa.
"Adrian Cross?"
"You know him?"
She nodded.
"He came to the foundation last month."
Dante frowned.
"Why didn't you mention him?"
"Because I didn't know he was connected to any of this."
She closed her eyes, remembering.
"He offered to sponsor a new oncology wing. He said his daughter had died of leukemia."
Dante felt anger rising.
"Did you accept?"
"No. I told him we needed to review his background first."
"And?"
"The next morning, my assistant told me the background-check request had been canceled."
Dante turned toward Marco.
"By whom?"
Marco checked his phone.
Then his face tightened.
"Salvatore."
A long silence followed.
Dante lowered his weapon.
For the first time, the betrayal appeared larger than a single accomplice.
His father had infiltrated the foundation.
His uncle had manipulated its records.
And someone had placed Isabella directly in danger.
Dante called his chief medical officer, Dr. Elena Ruiz, and ordered a discreet emergency examination.
Then he contacted the building's security commander.
"Find Rafe Callahan. Bring him to the authorities alive. I want answers, not another body."
Marco looked surprised.
Dante noticed.
"My wife needs a husband," he said. "Not a man sitting in prison for revenge."
Isabella began crying again.
But this time, relief mingled with the tears.
Twenty minutes later, Dr. Ruiz arrived with two nurses and portable medical equipment.
Dante stayed beside Isabella throughout the examination.
The doctor inspected the bruising, checked her breathing, and ordered hospital imaging appropriate for her condition.
Her expression became serious.
"Mrs. Moretti, do you remember losing consciousness during the attack?"
Isabella hesitated.
"Once."
Dante turned sharply.
"You never told me that."
"I didn't want to frighten you."
Dr. Ruiz gently interrupted.
"Isabella, this is important. Did anyone strike your abdomen?"
She nodded.
"Not directly. But I fell against a desk."
The doctor exchanged a look with her nurse.
"We need to take you to the hospital immediately."
Dante felt his heart stop.
"Is the baby in danger?"
"I can't answer that without an examination."
Isabella reached for him.
"Dante."
He took her hand.
"I'm here."
As the medical team prepared to move her, Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then turned pale.
"Boss, security found your father's vehicle."
"Where?"
"Underground parking."
"Is he inside?"
"No."
Dante frowned.
"Then where is he?"
Marco swallowed.
"The car was empty. But there was a sealed envelope on the driver's seat."
"What did it say?"
Marco looked at Isabella.
Then back at Dante.
"Your mother knows why I disappeared."
Dante stared at him.
His mother, Lucia Moretti, had died fifteen years earlier.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
Marco continued.
"There was another message."
He handed Dante the photograph.
A woman stood beside a hospital window.
Her hair was almost entirely white.
Her face was thinner than Dante remembered.
But her eyes were unmistakable.
Dante staggered backward.
Because the woman in the photograph was his mother.
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And beneath her picture, someone had written:
SHE IS STILL WAITING FOR YOU.
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