Chapter 8 - THE ASHES OF THE PAST
Two hours later.
The flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers finally faded from the long driveway of the estate.
The mansion was eerily quiet. The crystal chandeliers had been dimmed, casting long, soft shadows across the marble floors.
I stood in the foyer, holding a black trash bag, quietly throwing away the discarded linen napkins and broken glass left behind by the panicked guests.
My shift had technically ended three hours ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave.
Dante walked out of his private study.
He had taken off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his collar. The heavy, oppressive aura of the mafia boss was completely gone. He looked exhausted, but for the first time, he looked free.
He saw me cleaning and stopped.
“Megan. You don’t have to do that. Go home to your family.”
I tied the trash bag off.
“I don’t mind, Mr. Caruso. It helps to keep my hands busy after... everything.”
Dante walked over.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick envelope.
He held it out to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, hesitating.
“Severance,” Dante said softly.
“The federal government is seizing the estate tomorrow morning. I’m liquidating my personal, legitimate accounts to ensure the staff is taken care of. There’s enough in there to pay your mother’s rent and your brother’s tuition for the next four years.”
Tears welled in my eyes.
“Dante... I can’t take this.”
“You can,” he insisted, pressing it into my hands.
“You stood quietly in the corner while my family tore itself apart, and you didn’t run. You’re brave, Megan. Braver than most of the men who used to sit at my table.”
A warm flush spread across my cheeks.
I looked down at the envelope, overwhelmed by his generosity.
“Thank you. What will you do now?”
Dante looked around the massive, empty foyer.
“I’m taking Sarah and Leo to a small house I own in Colorado. It’s quiet. Safe. I’m going to start over. Open a small logistics company. Live a normal life.”
He smiled, a genuine, tired smile.
“I think I’d like to learn how to cook something other than steak.”
I laughed softly.
“You’d burn water.”
“Probably,” he chuckled.
The moment felt incredibly intimate. The space between us seemed to shrink.
But before either of us could say another word, Marco walked into the foyer.
“Boss,” Marco said, his voice tense.
Dante’s smile faded. “What is it, Marco? Are the feds back?”
“No,” Marco said, holding up a sleek, black leather handbag.
“I was sweeping the coatroom. Camille left her purse behind when the FBI dragged her out.”
“Throw it in the trash,” Dante ordered coldly.
“I was going to,” Marco said.
He reached into the bag and pulled out a small, folded piece of thick cardstock.
“But I found this in a hidden zipper pocket.”
Marco handed the card to Dante.
Dante unfolded it.
I watched the color completely drain from his face. His eyes widened in absolute shock.
“Where did she get this?” Dante whispered, his voice trembling.
I stepped closer, looking over his arm.
It was a vintage train ticket.
Faded yellow paper. Dated twenty-five years ago.
Destination: Montreal, Canada.
But it was the name printed on the passenger line that made my breath catch.
Clara Caruso.
Dante’s mother.
The woman who supposedly died of a sudden illness when Dante was fourteen.
“My father said she died,” Dante choked out.
“She didn’t die, boss,” Marco said quietly.
May you like
“Victor Thorne wasn’t lying. Your mother ran away from Carmine. And Camille knew exactly where she went.”
TITLE: The Final Confession
