Chapter 8 - THE SEAT AT THE HEAD TABLE
Two hours later, the estate was quiet again.
The police hadn't been called. In Dante’s world, messes were cleaned up internally. The foyer was already being swept of shattered glass, and the surviving Moretti men had been escorted off the property with a warning that sent them running back to Geneva.
I sat at the massive dining room table, a cup of chamomile tea warming my hands.
The last time I was in this room, I was wearing a maid’s uniform, terrified of being fired. Now, I was wearing a soft cashmere sweater Dante had brought me, sitting near the head of the table.
Dante walked in, carrying the wooden music box. He set it gently on the table in front of me.
Henry wheeled himself up beside me, a soft, encouraging smile on his weathered face.
"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Henry asked.
I nodded. I reached behind my neck and unclasped the emerald pendant. I set it on the table next to the tiny brass key we had retrieved from the shattered pocket watch.
Dante didn't touch the items. He stood back, giving me the space. This was my father's legacy. It was my right.
I picked up the brass key and inserted it into the small keyhole at the front of the wooden box. I didn't turn it yet. I picked up the emerald pendant and placed it into a custom-carved indentation on the lid.
It clicked into place perfectly, a hidden magnet pulling it flush against the wood.
I took a deep breath and turned the key.
The box clicked, a heavy internal mechanism shifting. Then, a soft, tinkling melody filled the room. It was the lullaby my father used to hum to me when I was a little girl.
Tears pricked my eyes as the lid slowly popped open.
Inside was a single, thick black flash drive, resting on a bed of velvet.
Dante let out a long breath. "The Genesis ledger."
"It's yours," I said, pushing the box toward him.
Dante shook his head. He placed his large hand over mine, stopping me. "No, Caroline. It's ours. That money belongs to the Romano family. And you are a Romano. You will never scrub another floor. You will never worry about a grocery bill for as long as you live."
He looked at Marco, who was standing by the door.
"Bring them up," Dante ordered.
A moment later, two guards dragged Vivienne and Mark into the dining room. They looked pathetic. Vivienne’s dress was torn, and Mark’s face was bruised and swollen.
Dante didn't even stand up. He looked at them with utter disdain.
"You both tried to steal from my family," Dante said coldly. "You manipulated a pregnant woman. You drugged an old man."
Vivienne opened her mouth to speak, but Dante cut her off.
"You are leaving Chicago tonight," Dante commanded. "You will be escorted to the airport by my men. You will board a plane to South America. If you ever return to the United States, if you ever breathe a word of this family's name, you won't survive the night."
Mark looked at me, desperate tears in his eyes. "Carrie, please. I'm the father of your baby. You can't let him do this to me."
I stood up. I didn't feel fear anymore. I felt power.
"You lost the right to be a father the day you took the money to leave us," I said, my voice steady and cold. "You are nothing to me."
I turned to the guards. "Get them out of my house."
Mark and Vivienne were dragged away, their protests echoing down the hall until the heavy doors slammed shut.
The room was peaceful again.
Dante turned to his father. He crouched beside the wheelchair, taking Henry’s frail hand.
"Dad," Dante said, his voice thick with emotion. "I am so sorry. I was blind. I let her treat you like a burden. I will never forgive myself for that."
Henry smiled, reaching out to cup his son's cheek. "You didn't know, Dante. You have carried the weight of this family for so long. You just wanted a normal life. But you have it now. The poison is gone."
Henry looked at me. "And we have our family back."
That evening, we had dinner together. Just the three of us.
I didn't serve the food. I sat at the table, eating a massive bowl of strawberry ice cream. Henry sat at the head of the table, his hearing aid working perfectly, laughing and telling stories about my father.
Dante sat across from me. Every time I looked up, his dark eyes were already on me, filled with a warmth and affection that made my heart flutter.
My baby kicked hard against my ribs, and for the first time in my entire pregnancy, I laughed. I felt completely, undeniably safe.
It was the happiest night of my life.
Until I walked into my new bedroom.
The maids had prepared the grand guest suite for me. It was beautiful, with a massive four-poster bed and French doors leading to a balcony.
But as I pulled back the silk duvet, I froze.
Resting perfectly in the center of my pillow was a piece of paper.
I picked it up.
It was a child's drawing done in bright red crayon. A drawing of a house with a red door.
May you like
And written at the top, in jagged letters, were three words:
They are coming.
