4. Traitor’s Grace: The Discovery of the Brother's Betrayal

CHAPTER FOUR

Julian POV

The sun didn’t rise in the Moretti estate; it just made the shadows longer.

I had spent the night on the velvet chaise lounge, clutching the obsidian dagger Dante had left behind a cruel taunt or a test, I wasn't sure. Every creak of the floorboards made me flinch, expecting the "Butcher" to return and finish what the priest had started. But he hadn't come back.

A sharp rap on the door preceded the click of the lock. A young maid entered, her eyes fixed strictly on the floor. She set a tray of coffee and a silk robe on the table. Tucked under the rim of the saucer was a small, burner-style flip phone.

My heart leaped.

I waited until the door clicked shut again before grabbing the device. There was one message on the screen, a string of numbers I recognized instantly. It was the private line to our family’s counting house.

“The transfer is complete. The Vane accounts are empty. Enjoy the honeymoon, little brother.”

The coffee went cold as I stared at the screen. I hit the call button, my thumb trembling. It picked up on the first ring.

"Leo?" I whispered, my voice raw.

"Julian? Is that you?" Leo’s voice sounded muffled, followed by the clink of ice against glass. "I figured you’d be too busy with your new husband to check the books. How is the Moretti hospitality?"

"You sold the docks, Leo. You sold the warehouses," I said, the words feeling like shards of glass in my throat. "Dante told me it was to settle a debt. But I just checked the ledger codes. You didn't settle a debt. You diverted the funds to a private holding in the Caymans. Under your name and Marcus’s."

A long silence followed. When Leo spoke again, the fake "worried brother" tone was gone. It was replaced by something sharp and ugly.

"The Vane empire was a sinking ship, Julian. Father was a fool who played too fair, and you were too busy reading poetry in Florence to see the cracks. We didn't sell you to settle a debt. We sold you to buy our way out."

"You used me as a distraction," I realized, the room spinning. "Dante was so focused on capturing me and the ‘Vane Legacy’ that he didn't see you two stripping the vaults bare. You led me to that basement. You told me the meeting was at the docks."

"Think of it as your final contribution to the family," Leo chuckled, and the sound made me want to scream. "Dante wants a Prince? He got one. He just didn't realize he bought a hollow shell. Stay quiet, play the wife, and maybe he won't kill you when he realizes there isn't a cent left in the Vane name. Goodbye, Julian."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone until the screen turned black. The "Golden Prince." That’s what they called me. I was the face of the family, the one they used to charm investors and navigate high society. I thought I was being protected. I thought I was the heart of the Vane lineage.

In reality, I was the sacrificial lamb, polished and fed just enough to be worth a high price at the slaughter.

The door swang open without a knock. Dante stood there, already dressed in a black tactical vest over a white shirt, looking like he was ready for a war. He glanced at the burner phone in my hand, but he didn't look surprised.

"Did you get the answer you were looking for?" he asked, his voice a low vibration that seemed to rumble through the floor.

"You knew," I said, standing up. I felt a strange, cold clarity settling over me. The fear was gone, replaced by a vacuum of pure, unadulterated hatred. "You knew they were stealing the funds while I was in that basement."

Dante walked toward me, his presence filling the room until the air felt thin. "I knew they were trying. I let them. A man who thinks he’s escaped is a man who stops looking over his shoulder. It makes it much easier to track where he hides his stolen gold."

"You used me too," I spat, stepping into his space, the dagger I’d held all night now gripped tightly at my side. "Everyone uses me. I’m just a bargaining chip to you. A way to get to them."

"No," Dante said, his hand reaching out to tilt my chin up. His touch wasn't violent this time, but it was possessive, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. "Your brothers are thieves, Julian. Thieves are easy to find. But you? You’re a King who doesn't know he lost his crown. I didn't marry you for the money. I married you because I’d rather have you in my house than the money in my bank."

He leaned down, his forehead almost touching mine. "Your family is dead to you now. Every bridge is burned. There is no Vane empire to go back to. There is only the Moretti name, and the man standing in front of you."

I looked into his obsidian eyes and saw a reflection of myself not the "Golden Prince," but something darker. Something forged in the betrayal of my own blood.

"They think I'm a hollow shell," I whispered, my voice sounding like someone else’s. "They think I'm just a trophy they sold to a butcher."

"Show them they were wrong," Dante growled, his hand moving from my jaw to the back of my neck, pulling me inches closer. "Help me hunt them down, and I’ll give you their heads on a silver platter. That is my wedding gift to you."

The cliffhanger hung between us a choice. To be the victim of the Vanes or the weapon of the Morettis.

I looked at the burner phone on the floor, then back to the man who had kidnapped me. My brothers had given me a life of lies. Dante was offering me a life of blood.

"Give me a gun," I said, my voice as cold as a grave. "And I’ll show you how a Vane says goodbye."

Dante’s eyes flared with a dark, satisfied light. He reached into his holster, pulled out a small, sleek pistol, and pressed it into my hand.

"Welcome to the war, Julian."