Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~10 min read
The private plane was exactly what I expected from Dante Marchetti. Sleek leather seats. Polished wood accents. A bedroom in the back. Everything screaming wealth and power.
Lucia was enchanted.
“Mama, look! The seats spin!” She twirled in one of the captain’s chairs, her earlier sleepiness forgotten in the excitement of her first plane ride. “And there’s a TV! Can I watch Bluey?”
“Maybe in a little bit, baby.” I was still reeling from how fast everything had happened. One moment I was in my cramped Portland apartment. The next, I was being ushered into an SUV with two duffel bags and a very sleepy toddler.
Dante had made calls the entire drive to the private airfield. Curt, clipped conversations in Italian that I only caught pieces of. But I heard names. Adrian. Elias. Marco.
He was mobilizing his entire organization.
Because of us.
Now he sat across from me, watching Lucia explore the plane with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Wonder. Possessiveness. Something that looked almost like grief.
“She’s never been on a plane before,” I said quietly.
“I know.” He didn’t look at me. “There’s a lot of firsts I’ve missed.”
Guilt twisted in my chest, but I pushed it down. I’d made my choice three years ago. Right or wrong, I’d done what I thought was best.
A man appeared from the cockpit. Tall, well-dressed, with the kind of casual danger that marked him as one of Dante’s people.
“We’re ready for takeoff, boss.”
“Thank you, Adrian.” Dante nodded toward Lucia. “Make sure there’s food when we land. And toys. Whatever a two-year-old needs.”
Adrian’s gaze flicked to Lucia, then to me, then back to Dante. Something passed between them—understanding, maybe. Or shock that Dante Marchetti had a daughter.
“Already handled,” Adrian said. “Elias is preparing the east wing. And your sister wants to know if—”
“Tell Elise she can meet Lucia tomorrow. After we’re settled.”
“And your brother?”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “Marco can wait.”
Adrian nodded and disappeared back toward the cockpit.
“East wing?” I asked.
“My home in Manhattan. You and Lucia will have your own space. Privacy.”
“We could stay at a hotel—”
“No.” His tone left no room for argument. “You stay where I can protect you. End of discussion.”
Lucia bounced over, climbing into my lap. “Mama, the man said we’re going to New York! That’s where the Statue of Liberty is!”
“That’s right, baby.”
“Will we see it?”
I looked at Dante, unsure how to answer. How long would we be here? Days? Weeks?
“We’ll see it,” Dante said, his voice gentling. “I’ll take you myself, piccola.”
Lucia studied him with those serious green eyes. “Are you coming with us? To New York?”
“I live in New York. So yes.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head, considering. “Do you have dinosaurs?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “No dinosaurs. But I have a big house. And a garden. Do you like gardens?”
“I like flowers. Mama and I plant flowers on our balcony.”
“Then we’ll plant flowers in my garden. Whatever kind you want.”
Lucia seemed satisfied with that answer. She snuggled into my chest, her excitement fading as exhaustion caught up with her.
The plane began to move, taxiing toward the runway.
“You should buckle her in,” Dante said.
I shifted Lucia to the seat next to me, securing her seatbelt. She was already half-asleep, her stuffed rabbit clutched to her chest.
The engines roared. The plane lifted.
And just like that, we were leaving Portland behind.
I watched the city lights disappear below us, my throat tight. Everything I’d built. Everything I’d worked for. Gone in a matter of hours.
“Regrets?” Dante’s voice cut through my thoughts.
“About leaving? Or about the last three years?”
“Either. Both.”
I looked at Lucia, sleeping peacefully beside me. “I don’t regret protecting her.”
“Even if your methods were flawed?”
“Even then.”
He leaned back in his seat, studying me. “You’ve changed.”
“It’s been three years. People change.”
“You’re harder. More guarded.”
“I had to be.” I met his eyes. “I was alone. Raising a child. Looking over my shoulder every day. Of course I changed.”
“You were never supposed to be alone.” His voice dropped. “If you’d just told me—”
“You would have what? Quit the mafia? Walked away from your family? Your empire?” I shook my head. “We both know that was never an option.”
“I would have found a way. To keep you safe. Both of you.”
“In your world? There is no safe, Dante. There’s just degrees of danger.”
He didn’t argue. Couldn’t argue. Because we both knew it was true.
The flight attendant—because of course there was a flight attendant—appeared with drinks. Water for me. Whiskey for Dante.
“We’ll be landing in about four hours,” she said. “There’s food in the galley if you’re hungry. And the bedroom is available if you’d like to rest.”
After she left, silence settled between us. The kind of heavy silence that comes from three years of unsaid things.
Finally, Dante spoke. “Luca Sterling. Tell me about him.”
I stiffened. “There’s not much to tell. We dated briefly. I ended it. He didn’t take it well.”
“Briefly how long?”
“Two months.”
“And he met Lucia?”
“A few times. He thought I was Sarah Collins. Single mom. Dead-end job. Nothing interesting.”
“But he figured out who you really are.”
“Apparently.” I took a sip of water. “I don’t know how. I was careful.”
“Not careful enough.” Dante swirled his whiskey. “What does he want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
I thought about Luca’s texts. The threats. The implications. “Money, probably. Or leverage. He’s a lawyer. He deals in information.”
“And what information does he have?”
“That’s just it—I don’t know. He claims I did something three years ago. Something worth blackmailing me over. But I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not—”
“Sofia.” He leaned forward. “I’ve known you for years. I know when you’re lying. What aren’t you telling me?”
My heart raced. Because there was something. Something I’d buried so deep I almost convinced myself it never happened.
Three years ago. The night I left.
I hadn’t just walked away from Dante. I’d taken something. Something valuable. Something I’d hidden in case I ever needed leverage of my own.
Documents. Financial records. Proof of transactions that could bring down half of Dante’s business associates.
I’d taken them as insurance. Protection. A guarantee that if Dante ever came after me, I’d have something to bargain with.
And now Luca Sterling somehow knew about it.
“Sofia.” Dante’s voice was deadly quiet. “What did you do?”
Before I could answer, his phone rang. He answered without breaking eye contact with me.
“What is it, Adrian?”
I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but I watched Dante’s expression shift. From curiosity to shock to cold, lethal fury.
“When?” A pause. “How many?” Another pause. “Handle it. I’ll be there in four hours.”
He hung up. Looked at me with eyes that had gone completely empty.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Your apartment building in Portland. There was a fire.”
My blood turned to ice. “What?”
“Adrian’s contact at the fire department just called. Started in your unit. Spread to the neighboring apartments.” He stood, moved to the window. “No casualties. Everyone got out.”
“Oh my God. Carmen—my neighbor—she has a daughter—”
“Everyone is fine,” Dante repeated. “But your apartment is gone. Everything in it.”
I couldn’t breathe. All of Lucia’s things. Her baby photos. The few belongings I’d managed to keep from my old life.
Gone.
“It wasn’t an accident,” Dante said flatly. “Adrian’s looking into it now, but we both know who did this.”
Luca.
He’d burned down my apartment. Destroyed everything. Sent a message.
I’m serious. And I’m done waiting.
“He’s escalating,” I whispered.
“He made a mistake.” Dante’s voice was cold enough to freeze. “He just declared war on the wrong family.”
He pulled out his phone again, dialed.
“Julian. I need everything on Luca Sterling. And I mean everything. Bank records. Phone records. Where he eats. Where he sleeps. Who he’s fucking. I want to know every secret he’s ever had.”
He listened for a moment.
“Because he just tried to kill the mother of my child. So unless you want me to handle this myself—and we both know how messy that gets—you’ll have that information to me before we land.”
He hung up. Turned to me.
“You’re going to tell me everything. Every detail about Luca Sterling. Every conversation you had. Every threat he made. Every single thing you know.”
“Dante—”
“And then you’re going to tell me what you really took when you left three years ago. Because if Sterling knows about it, if he’s using it as leverage, then I need to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
I looked at Lucia, still sleeping peacefully. Still innocent to the chaos surrounding her.
Dante followed my gaze. His expression softened, just slightly.
“I will keep her safe,” he said quietly. “I will keep both of you safe. But I can’t do that if you’re still keeping secrets.”
He was right. I knew he was right.
So I took a breath. And I told him the truth.
“Three years ago, when I left, I didn’t just disappear. I took something from your office. Files. Financial records. Proof of transactions that could implicate half your organization.”
Dante went very, very still.
“I needed insurance,” I continued quickly. “Something to make sure you wouldn’t come after me. Wouldn’t force me back. I never planned to use them. They’ve been in a safety deposit box for three years. I swear, Dante, I never—”
“Where?”
“What?”
“Where is the safety deposit box?”
“Portland. First National Bank.”
He processed this. Then, to my shock, he laughed. A short, sharp sound without humor.
“Of course. Of course you did.” He rubbed his face. “Do you have any idea what those files could do in the wrong hands?”
“That’s why I hid them. Why I never—”
“And now Sterling knows about them. Which means either you told him—”
“I didn’t!”
“—or he’s very good at digging up dirt.” Dante pulled out his phone again. “Adrian. Change of plans. We’re making a stop in Portland before New York.”
“Dante, the bank won’t be open at—”
“I don’t care if it’s open. We’re getting those files. Tonight.”
He made three more calls. Each one sharper than the last. Mobilizing people. Resources. Power.
When he finished, he sat back down across from me.
“When we land in Portland, you’re going to take me to that bank. We’re going to retrieve those files. And then we’re going to make very sure Luca Sterling never threatens my family again.”
“What are you going to do to him?”
Dante’s smile was cold. Sharp. Dangerous.
“What I should have done the moment he sent you that first text.”
And despite everything—despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, despite knowing exactly what Dante was capable of—I felt a surge of fierce satisfaction.
Because Luca Sterling had made a very big mistake.
He’d threatened Dante Marchetti’s daughter.
And there was no coming back from that.
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