All Chapters of A Contract With The Devil in a Suit: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The neon lights of New York reflecting against the bulletproof car window looked like long streaks of blood. Dante sat in the back seat, his injured hand—cut by the sharp edges of his father’s pocket watch—now wrapped neatly in a clean white bandage by Marco. But the sting on his skin was nothing compared to the storm raging in his chest. Axel’s warning had transformed his grief into a sharp, paranoid vigilance.“We’re almost at the facility, Mr. Dante,” Marco reported from the front seat. “The prison staff has been… arranged. You have thirty minutes before the guard shift changes.”Dante didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on the pocket watch resting on his lap. The silent timepiece now felt like a ticking bomb. If Axel was right—if his mother’s doctor in Switzerland was part of Leonard’s final plan—then every second he spent here was a risk to the only person he truly loved. But he couldn’t act blindly. Leonard thrived on psychological warfare; Axel’s warning could just as easil

Snow began to fall lightly over Zurich, covering the old city in a blanket of white that looked pure—but to Dante, each flake felt like dust hiding the rot beneath. He stood inside an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts, now repurposed as a temporary meeting ground. There was no luxury here—only cold concrete walls and flickering neon lights that cast an eerie, suffocating glow.Dante wore a long wool coat wrapped tightly around his tall frame. In his hand, he held his father’s silver pocket watch. It remained lifeless, frozen in time, yet Dante felt as though his own heartbeat had become the mechanism now driving the fate of everyone around him.“Vargas landed at the private airstrip ten minutes ago,” Marco reported quietly, his voice sharp despite its low tone. “He brought three personal guards. He believes Dr. Keller is waiting with confirmation that your mother has been ‘secured.’”Dante nodded slowly, his gaze shifting to Dr. Keller, who sat bound in the corner, her mouth gagged

The air inside the federal penitentiary felt far colder this time. Perhaps it was because Dante had instructed Marco to cut off the “extra funds” that had once ensured the heating in Leonard’s block ran at full capacity. Dante walked through the concrete corridors, his leather shoes echoing sharply as they sliced through the oppressive silence. He no longer came with slumped shoulders; he came with his back straight, his gaze no longer searching for protection—but demanding recognition of his dominance.In the visitation room, Leonard was already waiting. Without the luxurious carpet that had adorned his cell for the past few weeks, and without the artisan coffee the guards used to smuggle in, he looked slightly paler. Yet when he saw Dante enter—draped in a grand black fur coat, his expression carved from ice—Leonard’s eyes gleamed with uncontrollable excitement.Dante picked up the receiver but let the silence stretch between them for several long minutes. He wanted Leonard to feel

The night over Staten Island felt suffocating, as if the peninsula had been cut off from the glittering pulse of Manhattan. In an abandoned industrial zone, an old meat-processing warehouse loomed like a monument to decay, exuding an aura of death that clung to the air. Dante stood behind the open door of a dark tactical van, watching the building through night-vision binoculars. Beside him, Marco and twelve fully armed operatives waited in disciplined silence.Dante no longer trembled. Whatever fear once lived in him had vanished the moment he saw his mother’s empty bed. What remained was something colder—pure, merciless, borrowed from the very soul of Leonard Virelli. His fingers brushed the pocket watch in his vest before settling on the grip of the semi-automatic pistol at his waist.“Moretti won’t expect us this soon,” Marco whispered. “They think you’ll spend the night begging Leonard.”“They misjudged who holds the power now,” Dante replied, his voice low, almost serpentine. “M

Dante’s new apartment in Brooklyn had no marble pillars or bowing servants greeting his every step. It was just an open space with exposed brick walls, large windows overlooking the bridge, and bookshelves slowly filling with the classic literature he genuinely loved—not the ones imposed by Leonard’s taste. Here, the air smelled of fresh paper and brewed coffee, not the suffocating sandalwood perfume that once defined his life.Dante sat in a rattan chair by the window, holding his father’s pocket watch as it continued to tick steadily. It felt as though he was learning how to walk again after years of having his legs shackled. And yet, despite cutting off all formal communication with the prison, one thing still haunted him: the final secret Leonard had whispered about his father.“Your father… he was the one who came to me first.”The sentence looped in his mind like a broken tape. Dante knew he had to confirm it—not because he wanted to return to Leonard, but because he couldn’t bu