Semua Bab THE DON WHO COULDN'T LOVE : Bab 21 - Bab 26

The charity gala at the Grand Teatro had been on the calendar for months, a rare public event where families across the coast gathered under the pretense of philanthropy while conducting whatever business actually mattered beneath the surface. Dante had debated cancelling after the perimeter breach two weeks earlier, but ultimately decided against it."Cancelling tells everyone we're afraid," he'd said, the same logic he'd used before the Barone dinner. "I won't give whoever attacked us that satisfaction."I hadn't fully agreed, but I understood the reasoning, and so I found myself standing beside him in the Teatro's grand ballroom, wearing deep emerald silk, watching him move through a crowd of men who might, for all either of us knew, have ordered soldiers to storm our home two weeks prior. The chandeliers overhead threw warm, golden light across marble floors polished to a near mirror shine, and somewhere a string quartet played something light and unbothered, entirely at odds with

Dante didn't sleep that night. I woke twice to find his side of the bed empty, and the second time, I found him in the study, sitting in the dark with no lights on at all, staring at nothing. The house around us had settled into that particular late-night stillness, the kind that made every small sound — a floorboard shifting, the distant hum of the estate's old pipes — feel louder than it should."You should rest," I said, settling into the chair across from him."I keep replaying it," he admitted, his voice hoarse in the quiet. "The moment his hand moved. If you'd been a half second slower, if that glass hadn't been within reach—""But it was. And I wasn't."***He rubbed a hand over his face, and in the dim light I could see how much the day had cost him — not physically, but somewhere deeper, some careful architecture of control finally showing real cracks."I've built my entire life around the idea that I could out-plan any threat," he said. "Enough security, enough vigilance, en

"We need to talk to Luciano," I said, the morning after the wooden box, watching Dante's expression shift instantly from consideration to resistance."Absolutely not.""Dante. Think about what we uncovered. If Massimo was working for whoever's really behind all of this, and if that same pattern connects to the current attacks, then Luciano might not be the enemy we've assumed he is. He might be another target, the same as you.""He tried to destroy this family at that dinner," Dante said, pacing now, old anger resurfacing alongside the newer fear. "He's spent years cultivating alliances that could have been used against me at any moment.""Because he believed, genuinely believed, that he'd been cheated of his birthright," I said gently. "That's not the same as being the architect of a decades-long conspiracy involving Elena's death and Rocco's betrayal and men storming our estate in the middle of the night. Those require resources and patience Luciano's spent his whole life resenting