All Chapters of The Triple Don't: Daniels' Debt: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The two pink lines on the stick were a death sentence and a salvation all at once. I was carrying a Moretti heir. One of the triplets was the father—though with their identical genetic sequencing, it didn't really matter. They were all the father. They were my world.I slumped against the cold stone wall of the bathroom, my head throbbing in time with the rhythmic pulse of the signal jammer at my neck. I needed Nickie’s calm, Luca’s warmth, and Matteo’s fire. Instead, I had a stone cell and a target on my back.What did the Syndicate want with a pregnant captive? Did they know? If I told them, would I be treated like a high-value asset or a liability to be liquidated? I couldn't risk the baby. I snapped the plastic stick in half, shoved it deep into the trash, and covered it with a layer of grime.The heavy steel door groaned open. Dante didn't bother knocking. He stood in the doorway, his massive frame blocking out the light from the hall. He didn't look angry; he looked calculating.

I woke up in that blindingly white room, dressed in spotlessly white silk, feeling like I was trapped in a high-def monochromatic nightmare. The starkness of the suite was jagged; it cut into my retinas. The only visual relief came from those glossy fashion portraits on the walls—vibrant, high-contrast shots of supermodels that felt like they were watching me with cold, judgmental eyes.This was day three—I think. My internal clock was fraying. I was convinced Dante or Maurice were spiking my meals with some kind of neuro-suppressant. There was no other reason my neural link should be this dead. If I was still within the Moretti Territory, I should at least feel a phantom hum of my triplets’ presence.Suddenly, a searing heat bloomed at the base of my skull. Ow! I hissed, clutching my neck. My skin felt like it was being branded with a soldering iron. I scrambled into the marble bathroom and stared into the mirror. The three silvery marks—the ink and scars that bound me to Nickie, Mat

“Move it, Daniels,” June whispered, nudging me through the doorway.I couldn’t believe she was actually letting me out of that sterile cage. My boots clicked against the marble as we wound through a labyrinth of white-walled corridors. Just as I was scouting for an exit, we spilled into a massive, high-ceilinged atrium. It felt like stepping into a modern temple hidden inside a billionaire’s fortress.At the far end stood a massive statue of a white fox, carved from polished stone. It was the centerpiece of an insane art gallery—intricate canvases flanking it depicted neon forests, high-fashion models, and foxes stalking through the brush. I walked toward the sculpture, mesmerized. The beast was frozen mid-leap, one paw just touching the pedestal, its two tails arched toward the ceiling like twin whips.“Hey, Daniels! Get back here!” June’s voice hissed, cracking my trance.I turned around and nearly tripped over my own feet. A dozen women were sitting on white mats across the floor,

“By the time you reach Daniels, you’ll be digging a grave anyway!” Dante spat, his voice a jagged rasp against the stone walls of the Moretti cellar.Matteo didn’t just growl; he felt the 'Noir' fire in his veins turn into a goddamn furnace. Beside him, Luca’s eyes were voids of black ice, and Nickie’s jaw was set so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. The heavy steel door groaned as Cante and Vince descended into the dim light.“Do we have a location?” Vince asked, his voice trembling with the kind of desperation only a father—or a grandfather—could feel.“We will in a second,” Matteo said, pulling a pair of heavy-duty industrial pliers from his tactical belt. He stepped toward the cage.“You don’t scare me, Moretti,” Dante hissed, though he backed into the corner of the cell.“I’m not trying to scare you,” Matteo shrugged, his voice terrifyingly calm. “I’m trying to find my girl.”“Go ahead. I’ve got nothing to live for,” Dante retorted.“You seriously want a pity party?” Matte

“Dr. Jardine, the high-tier shrink for the Moretti inner circle, was leaning back in a mint-green designer chair. The office was all abstract swirls and pastel patterns that made my head spin. I was jammed onto a baby-blue velvet sofa between Luca and Nickie, with Matteo twitching on Nickie’s other side, eyes burning holes in the floor. To our right, on a pink lounger, my mother and father were flanked by Vince, who looked like he was ready for a war council. On the left, a muted yellow couch held Oman and Castalia. Castalia was vibrating with nervous energy, her high-heeled boot tapping so hard I thought she’d kick a hole in the expensive wallpaper.‘The goal today is to zero out the old blood debts and find some level of stability for this family,’ Dr. Jardine said, her voice smooth and clinical.‘Right,’ I snapped, wanting this over with.My father cleared his throat like he was swallowing glass. Castalia let out a sharp, jagged huff.‘Who wants to open the floor?’ Jardine asked.‘