Dante’s POV
For the first time in years, I let myself entertain a dangerous thought.
What if my mother was still alive?
The possibility crept in like a thief in the night, stealing my focus and unraveling every belief I had cemented since her death. For years, her absence had been a void I couldn’t fill, a scar I didn’t let anyone touch. And now, with these offshore accounts moving money under her name, the thought of her alive and hiding somewhere felt both impossible and achingly real.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Matteo said, his tone wary. He sat behind his desk, his sharp eyes fixed on me as if trying to read the chaos swirling in my head.
I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. “Could she be alive?” I asked, my voice low, almost desperate.
Matteo’s expression softened briefly, but then he shook his head. “No, Dante. She’s gone. You and I both know that.”
“How can you be so sure?” I demanded. “Those accounts—they’ve been active for 18 years. Money doesn’t just move itself. Someone’s pulling the strings, and if it’s not her—”
“It’s not,” Matteo cut in, his voice firm. “Your mother’s dead. I was there, remember? At the funeral. At your father’s side. I saw what it did to you.”
His words hit me like a slap, but I didn’t back down. “Then who the hell is using her name?”
Matteo leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Whoever it is, they’re using her legacy to do something big. And if your father’s involved—”
“You think he’s behind this?” I asked, my voice sharp.
Matteo gave me a long look before answering. “It wouldn’t surprise me. The accounts are too well-hidden, too connected to big money laundering operations. If I had to guess, your father’s working with someone high up—maybe even in the government.”
The idea of Lorenzo colluding with the same system he’d always claimed to despise wasn’t far-fetched. Hypocrisy ran through his veins like blood.
Matteo’s voice softened. “Look, kid, I get it. You want answers about your mom, and you’re hoping this is a breadcrumb trail that leads to her. But you need to think bigger. This isn’t just about her anymore. If your father’s involved, this could blow up into something a hell of a lot more dangerous.”
I stared at him, my chest tightening. “What if she found out?”
“What do you mean?” Matteo asked, his brows furrowed.
“What if my mother found out what he was doing?” I said, the thought spilling out before I could stop it. “If she discovered he was using these accounts for something illegal—if she confronted him about it—”
“Then it’s possible it got her killed,” Matteo finished, his tone grim.
The words hung in the air, suffocating. My mind raced, piecing together fragments of memories I’d buried long ago. The arguments I’d overheard between them, the way my mother’s voice would rise in anger before falling silent. The days she’d spend locked in her room, her face pale and drawn.
Had she been fighting him? Fighting for us?
Or had she simply stumbled too close to a truth she wasn’t supposed to know?
Matteo’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “If you want answers, you know what you have to do.”
I looked at him, my stomach knotting. “Go back.”
He nodded. “You hate that house. I get it. But that’s where the truth is. If your father’s behind this, the evidence is there. And if someone else is pulling the strings, you’ll only find out by playing the game.”
I leaned back in the chair, running a hand through my hair. The idea of stepping foot in that house again made my skin crawl. Every corner of it was a reminder of what I’d lost, of the family that had been torn apart piece by piece.
But Matteo was right. If I wanted to uncover the truth—about the accounts, about my mother’s death, about whatever game my father was playing—I had no choice.
I clenched my fists, the decision settling heavily in my chest. “If I do this, I’m not going in blind,” I said. “I’ll dig, I’ll play along, but I’m not letting him pull my strings.”
Matteo smirked faintly, his approval clear. “Good. Just be careful, Dante. Your father’s not an idiot, and if he catches wind of what you’re doing…”
“He won’t,” I said firmly.
Matteo nodded, his expression serious. “And Dante? Watch your back. Your father’s not the only one you need to worry about.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“These accounts,” Matteo said, tapping the file on his desk. “They’re connected to more than just your family. Big names, big money. Whoever’s behind this isn’t going to sit quietly while you unravel their secrets.”
The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders.
I stood, grabbing the file and tucking it under my arm. “Thanks, Matteo.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “Just don’t get yourself killed, kid.”
As I walked out of his office, the cool night air hit me like a wake-up call. The truth was waiting for me, buried in the house I’d sworn never to return to.
And if my father was hiding something, I was going to find it.
Even if it meant burning everything down.
Valentina's POVI slammed the door behind me as I entered the room, my heart hammering against my ribs. The smug look on Dante's face when he'd called me "little cat" made me want to both slap him and kiss him senseless. How dare he act so possessive when he'd clearly been with countless women?"Arrogant bastard," I muttered, pacing back and forth across the small guest room I'd been assigned.I felt agitated, restless, like my skin was too tight for my body. The hypocrisy of it all drove me crazy. He had so many sexual partners himself—that lingerie in his apartment was proof enough—so why should he control me? What gave him the right to dictate who I could or couldn't be with?The memory of that burgundy lace made jealousy flare hot and vicious in my chest again. I pictured Dante with some faceless woman, his hands on her body, his mouth on her skin, and the image made me want to scream. Or break something. Preferably over his perfect, arrogant head."It's not fair," I whispered, si
Dante's POVMy stepsister is too naive. In this club, no one dares to touch my woman. She has no idea how things work here, how respect and fear maintain the hierarchy. She doesn't understand that in this world, I'm king.For instance, just now, there was a guy—Miguel, one of our newer prospects—staring at my stepsister as we walked back toward the clubhouse. His eyes traveled down her body, lingering on places they had no business looking. With just a glance from me, he immediately lowered his head, suddenly finding the ground fascinating. Timid men like that don't deserve my stepsister's love. They'd never be able to handle a woman like Val."What are you smiling about?" Val asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.I hadn't realized I was smiling. "Just thinking about how little you understand about this place.""Enlighten me then," she challenged, crossing her arms in a way that pushed her breasts up, making my mouth go dry.I moved closer, crowding her space deliberately. "It's be
Valentina's POVThe next day, I decided I needed some fresh air. After spending the night tossing and turning in the unfamiliar bed at the clubhouse, my mind racing with thoughts of Dante and that burgundy lingerie, I needed to clear my head.As I pushed open the heavy door that led outside, the bright morning sunlight momentarily blinded me. I noticed several men lounging around the front of the club. Some worked on motorcycles, others smoked cigarettes, but all of them shared the same intimidating look – leather cuts, tattoos, hard eyes that had seen too much. A few of them turned to stare as I emerged, their gazes lingering on my ass and tits in a way that made me uncomfortable.One guy with a full sleeve of tattoos whistled low under his breath. Another one, tall with a shaved head, nudged his friend and muttered something that made them both laugh. I lifted my chin and started walking toward the street. I wasn't sure where I was going, but anywhere would be better than staying c
Dante's POVThe meeting had wrapped up, but Jax and I stayed behind, nursing our drinks while the others filtered out of the back room at The Devil's Forge. Matteo had just left, giving me one of those knowing looks he was so good at."You know, Dante loses his mind whenever Val is mentioned," Jax said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. "I've never seen you this way over a woman before. Especially not your sister."I shot him a warning glare. "You better keep your mouth shut if you don't want Raine finding out about your little adventure with those twins in Vegas last year.""Low blow, man." Jax winced, but recovered quickly. "But Raine and I aren't officially together yet.""That's not what she thinks," I countered. "I've seen the way she looks at you."Jax swirled his drink, a flash of something genuine crossing his face before his usual carefree mask slipped back into place. "Do what you want. I think you should be more worried about yourself.""Why's that?" I asked, taking a
Dante's POVThe dimly lit back room of The Devil's Forge smelled like cigarettes and whiskey. Perfect for secrets. I leaned back in my chair, watching as my uncle Matteo tapped his fingers against the wooden table. Jax and two other trusted members of our motorcycle club sat around us, faces serious in the low light."So," I said, breaking the silence. "Let's talk about those two girls from earlier."Jax snorted, taking a swig of his beer. "What's there to talk about? They're in, aren't they?"I grinned, turning to my uncle. "Do you know why they agreed so easily to come back to the club with us? Especially Hilary's eagerness." I leaned forward, enjoying the way my uncle's expression shifted. "I suspect she might have a crush on you, which is absurd considering your age is old enough to be her father."Matteo's face hardened. "I see her as a daughter."I shrugged, not believing him for a second. The way he'd looked at Hilary wasn't paternal. Not even close. "Sure you do. Keep telling
Valentina's POVAs I stepped into the apartment, I froze. This wasn't some bachelor pad or crash site. This was a real home. The kitchen, living room, and dining area flowed together, open and spacious.I ran my fingers along the smooth countertop. Silver-grey walls, worn black furniture, blue accents everywhere. The same blue as Dante's eyes. Something about it made me feel safe. Like I belonged here.The kitchen surprised me with its fancy appliances. Everything spotless and organized. I remembered when Dante made me soup that time I was sick. The memory hit me out of nowhere - him standing over the stove, stirring carefully, checking if it was too hot before giving it to me.He'd mentioned learning to cook after moving in with his uncle. I realized how little I actually knew about his day-to-day life now. I'd researched him thoroughly before our parents' wedding, but that file was full of facts, not the little details that made him who he really was. Yet somehow, I felt like I unde