Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~12 min read
The flight to New York was tense and silent.
Jade sat in one of the leather seats, an ice pack pressed to her face, staring at Dante like he was a particularly dangerous animal. Which, to be fair, he was.
Lucia had woken up confused and cranky, asking why we were on the plane again and who the lady with the “owie” was.
“This is Mama’s friend Jade,” I’d told her. “She had a little accident.”
“Oh.” Lucia had studied Jade seriously. “My mama says ice makes owies better.”
“Your mama is very smart,” Jade had said, managing a smile despite her split lip.
Dante hadn’t spoken to me since the revelation about the murder. He’d made calls. Lots of calls. Conversations in Italian that were sharp and clipped and definitely about damage control.
Because I’d witnessed a hit in his club three years ago. And now someone—Luca Sterling—knew about it.
When we finally landed in New York, dawn was breaking over the city. The skyline looked exactly as I remembered it. Beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
“Where are we going?” Jade asked as we descended the plane stairs.
“My home,” Dante said curtly. “You’ll stay there until we’re certain Sterling isn’t a threat.”
“I have a life. A job. I can’t just—”
“You were assaulted tonight because of your connection to Sofia. Until I neutralize that threat, you’re under my protection. Non-negotiable.”
Jade looked at me. I shrugged helplessly.
“Welcome to Dante’s world,” I muttered. “Where ‘no’ isn’t really an option.”
Three SUVs waited on the tarmac. Dante directed Lucia and me into one, Jade into another. Michael climbed into the driver’s seat of ours.
“The estate, boss?” he asked.
“Yes. And Michael? Take the long route. I want to make sure we’re not followed.”
The drive into Manhattan was beautiful in the early morning light. But instead of heading toward the high-rises and penthouses I expected, we drove north. Past the city. Into areas with actual space between buildings.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Home,” Dante said. He was looking out the window, his jaw tight.
We turned onto a private road. Trees lined both sides, blocking the view of whatever lay beyond. Then the trees parted.
And I saw it.
The Marchetti estate.
It wasn’t a house. It was a compound. A massive stone mansion that looked like it belonged in the Italian countryside, not twenty miles outside Manhattan. Manicured lawns. A fountain in the circular driveway. Gardens that probably required a full-time staff.
“Holy shit,” Jade breathed from somewhere behind us—apparently her SUV had pulled up alongside ours.
“You live here?” I stared at Dante.
“My family has owned this property for three generations.” He wasn’t looking at the house. He was looking at me. “This is where I grew up. Where my father raised me. Where I planned to raise my own children.”
The weight of that statement hung in the air between us.
Where he’d planned to raise Lucia.
If I hadn’t taken her away.
The cars pulled to a stop in front of the massive entrance. The doors opened before we could even get out.
A woman emerged. Elegant. Mid-twenties. Dark hair swept into a sleek bun. Dressed in designer clothes that probably cost more than my monthly rent used to.
She took one look at Dante. Then at me. Then at Lucia, who was rubbing her eyes sleepily in my arms.
“Dante?” Her voice was cultured, with just a hint of an Italian accent. “What’s going on? Adrian called and said—” She stopped. Stared at Lucia. “Oh my God.”
“Elise.” Dante’s voice softened. “This is Sofia Romano. And this is my daughter, Lucia.”
Elise’s hand flew to her mouth. “Your daughter? You have a—Dante, how did I not know you have a daughter?”
“Because I didn’t know either. Until last night.”
Elise’s eyes snapped to me. Not hostile, exactly. But definitely calculating. “You’re the one who disappeared. The girlfriend who vanished three years ago. The one Dante nearly destroyed the city looking for.”
“Elise,” Dante warned.
“No, she deserves to know.” Elise stepped closer to me. “Do you have any idea what you put him through? He thought you were dead. He blamed himself. He—”
“That’s enough.” Dante’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Sofia is here now. Under my protection. Along with her friend and our daughter. You will treat them as family. Understood?”
Elise looked like she wanted to argue. But something in Dante’s expression stopped her.
“Of course.” She smoothed her expression into something more welcoming. Bent down to Lucia’s level. “Hello, Lucia. I’m your Aunt Elise.”
Lucia peered at her shyly. “Hi.”
“Do you like cookies? I have cookies inside. Fresh from the kitchen.”
Lucia’s eyes lit up. “Chocolate chip?”
“Is there any other kind?” Elise smiled. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
She held out her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Lucia took it.
I watched them walk into the house together, my heart in my throat.
“She’s good with children,” Dante said quietly. “Elise has been waiting for nieces or nephews for years. You just made her entire decade.”
“She hates me.”
“She’s protective. There’s a difference.” He gestured toward the entrance. “Come on. I’ll show you to your rooms.”
The inside of the estate was even more impressive than the outside. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Art that was definitely original and probably priceless.
But it was also… warm. Lived-in. There were fresh flowers in vases. Books on tables. Photos on the walls.
Family photos.
I stopped in front of one. A younger Dante, maybe sixteen, standing between an older couple and two other children. Elise, looking about twelve. And a boy, maybe fourteen, with Dante’s dark hair and sharp jawline.
“Marco,” Dante said, following my gaze. “My younger brother.”
“Will I meet him?”
“Eventually.” His tone suggested Marco’s introduction would be significantly less warm than Elise’s. “He’s… protective. Like Elise. But angrier about it.”
Great.
We climbed a grand staircase to the second floor. Then down a hallway lined with doors.
Dante stopped at one, opened it.
“This is yours.”
The room was stunning. King-sized bed. Sitting area. Windows overlooking the gardens. An en-suite bathroom visible through another door.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Lucia’s room is through here.” He opened a connecting door. “I had Adrian call ahead. The staff prepared it while we were flying.”
Lucia’s room was a child’s dream. A canopy bed with gauzy curtains. Shelves already stocked with toys and books. A reading nook by the window. And in the corner, a mural of dinosaurs.
“You said she liked dinosaurs,” Dante said quietly.
My throat tightened. “When did you have time to—”
“I made calls while you were putting her to sleep on the plane. My staff is very efficient.”
I turned to face him. “Why are you doing this? All of this? You should hate me. I kept your daughter from you for three years. I stole from you. I lied to you. I—”
“I’m angry,” he interrupted. “Make no mistake, Sofia. I’m furious. At you. At the situation. At myself for not finding you sooner. But Lucia is innocent. And she deserves a home. Stability. Everything I can give her.”
“And me?”
His jaw tightened. “You deserve answers. And consequences. But first, we deal with Sterling. Then we figure out the rest.”
“There’s nothing to figure out. Once Sterling is handled, Lucia and I will—”
“Will what? Go back to Portland? To an apartment that burned down? To a life where you’re constantly looking over your shoulder?” He stepped closer. “You’re not leaving, Sofia. Not until I say it’s safe. Not until I know my daughter is protected.”
“You can’t just keep us here.”
“Can’t I?”
We stared at each other. The tension thick enough to cut.
A throat cleared behind us.
We both turned. Adrian stood in the doorway.
“Sorry to interrupt, boss. But Elias is here. He’s asking to see you. Says it’s urgent.”
Dante nodded. “Tell him I’ll be down in five minutes.”
Adrian disappeared.
“Elias Moreau,” Dante explained. “My father’s former consigliere. Now he’s mine. You’ll meet him at dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Tonight. With the family. Elise is already planning it. Consider it your official introduction to the Marchettis.”
“Dante, I can’t—”
“You can. You will.” He moved toward the door, then stopped. “And Sofia? The murder you witnessed three years ago. We’re going to talk about that. Soon. Because if Sterling knows about it, if he’s threatening to expose it, I need to know exactly what you saw.”
Before I could respond, he was gone.
I sank onto the bed, my head spinning.
Twenty-four hours ago, I’d been Sarah Collins. Kindergarten teacher. Single mom. Nobody.
Now I was Sofia Romano. Mother of the Don’s daughter. Living in a compound. About to have dinner with the Marchetti family.
How had my life become a mafia novel?
A soft knock on the door. Jade poked her head in.
“Hey. They put me in a room down the hall. It has a jacuzzi tub. A jacuzzi tub, Sofia.” She came in, sat beside me. “What the actual hell is happening?”
“I have no idea.”
“That man—Dante—he’s really Lucia’s father?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s really a—” She lowered her voice. “A mafia boss?”
“Don. He’s a Don now, apparently.”
“Holy shit.” Jade looked around the room. “And this is his house. Where we’re staying. Under his protection.”
“That’s the situation.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then: “Sofia, I need to tell you something. About Luca.”
My stomach dropped. “What about him?”
“When he broke into my apartment tonight, he was asking about you. About where you’d gone. What you’d taken with you.” She took a breath. “He knew about the files. But he also knew about something else. He kept saying you had information. Information worth killing for.”
“The murder.”
“Yeah. But here’s the thing—he said he had proof. Photos. Of you at the scene.”
Ice flooded my veins. “That’s impossible. I ran. I didn’t stop. I didn’t—”
“Security cameras?” Jade suggested. “Or maybe someone else was there. Saw you.”
“If there are photos of me at a murder scene, and Luca has them—”
“Then he can implicate you. Make it look like you were involved. Or at the very least, make Dante’s organization look sloppy for letting a civilian witness a hit.”
This was worse than I thought. So much worse.
“I need to tell Dante.”
“Are you insane? You already told him you witnessed a murder. If you tell him there’s photographic evidence—”
“He needs to know. If Luca is planning to use those photos, if he’s planning to blackmail me or the organization or—” I stood. “I need to find him.”
“Sofia—”
But I was already moving. Out the door. Down the hallway.
I found a staff member—a kind-looking woman in her fifties—who directed me to Dante’s study.
I knocked once. Didn’t wait for an answer.
Dante was seated behind a massive desk. Across from him sat an older man. Distinguished. Silver hair. Sharp eyes that took in everything.
This had to be Elias.
Both men looked up as I burst in.
“Sofia.” Dante’s voice was controlled. “I’m in a meeting.”
“There are photos.” The words tumbled out. “Luca has photos of me at the murder scene. Or he claims to. And if he does, he can use them to—”
I stopped. Because Elias was smiling.
Not a warm smile. A knowing one.
“Ah,” he said. “So you’re the girl. The witness.” He looked at Dante. “I told you she’d be a problem.”
Dante’s expression went very, very still.
“You knew about this?” I asked.
Elias stood. “I know about everything that happens in this organization, my dear. Including witnesses to unsanctioned hits who disappear into the night.” He circled the desk, studying me. “You saw something you shouldn’t have. You ran. Very smart. But you should have kept running.”
“Elias,” Dante’s voice was low. Warning.
“What I’m wondering,” Elias continued, “is why you came back. Why risk exposure now? Unless…” His eyes gleamed. “Unless you didn’t have a choice. Unless someone forced your hand.”
He knew. Somehow, this man knew everything.
“Who killed that man?” I asked. “The one I saw. Who did it?”
Elias and Dante exchanged a look.
“That,” Elias said, “is classified information. Information that could get you killed. Or worse.”
“Worse than killed?”
“Used as leverage against this family.” He turned to Dante. “If Sterling has photos, if he’s planning to expose her presence at that hit, he’s not after money. He’s after power. He wants something from you. Something big.”
Dante’s hands clenched into fists. “Then he’s going to be disappointed.”
“Is he?” Elias raised an eyebrow. “Because from where I’m standing, he’s already won. He has your daughter. He has the mother of your child. He has evidence that could implicate your organization in a murder. What do you think he’s going to demand in exchange for his silence?”
The room went silent.
And that’s when I realized the truth.
This wasn’t about revenge. Or money. Or even the files.
Luca Sterling was playing a much bigger game.
And we were already in checkmate.
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