101 Dalmatian Street Da Vinci Novels & Stories

Emily coughed and thought: Could you please not tell me such important news while I'm eating? "Mr. Davis, you specialize in the study of paintings and artifacts, don't you? I bought a painting in Europe a couple of years ago. The seller told me it was a work by Leonardo da Vinci. I don't know if it's real or fake. Could you appraise it for me?" Mr. Davis choked on his wine, "Da Vinci? Most of his paintings are already in collections. How did you buy one?" Mr. Satan, unhurried, opened his phone and showed a photo to Mr. Davis, "I might have been scammed. Could you take a look?"

Calix speaks quietly and Dante laughs. “Calix, if it had been the other way around I would have been worse, so don’t worry about it. I didn’t take your cold-ass attitude as a threat or a sign of war. I took it as a man who is ready to kill everyone to get back his woman. Which we will. You said something about a video?” Dante looks at us now. “It’s barely a video, fifteen seconds showing Daisy’s parents hurting Evalyn, it will prove to the Coppola family it wasn’t us. They still die, but it clears our name.”

Isabella held the glass up toward Dante. “Look, Papa,” the child whispered, her voice devoid of any human inflection. “Look at what you really made.” Dante looked into the mirror. He didn't see his own reflection. He didn't see the "First Architect." He saw a man sitting in a clinical, white room, hooked up to a series of silver tubes. The man was old, his skin parchment-thin, his eyes closed. Around him, scientists in grey habits were monitoring a screen that showed a perfect, digital simulation of the Venetian palazzo.

"And?" "It’s a 98% match for Aurelia’s gait and skeletal structure. But… something feels too clean, Damian. The way she looks directly into the camera for that split second—it’s almost as if she wanted to be identified. In my experience, someone as smart as she is doesn't make a rookie mistake like that." Dante paused, looking at his boss’s rigid back. "Perhaps we should take things slow. If there is even a fraction of a possibility that this was staged—"

“Save the applause.” He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. The door opened again. I stiffened as another figure strolled in, dripping smugness and perfectly tailored arrogance. I knew that scent. That stride. That voice. “Well, well,” he drawled, circling the room like a shark. “Never thought I’d see your face again, cousin.” Cristiano DaVinci. Polished in a charcoal suit, his smile too white to be sincere. His eyes were the same as Santiago’s—sharp, empty, lethal.

He had a white wolf tattooed on the side of his neck. ​"Romanov," I breathed, the "Secret Genius" in me already mapping out the breach. "They didn't send an army, Dante. They sent a Ghost Team. They’re already inside the air vents." ​Dante grabbed my arm, hauling me back toward the center of the living room. He didn't look scared. He looked insulted. ​"Mine," he growled. It wasn't a mouthed word this time. It was a low, guttural vibration that rumbled from his chest.

I used the draped fabric to shield my small hand movements from Camera four's lens. I marked specific letters on page fifty with tiny, almost invisible charcoal dots. Blood test delayed 24 hours, I coded meticulously. Accelerate escape documents. "You've developed a sudden love for classical poetry, Mrs. Falcone." Dante's voice echoed down from the balcony above. I didn't flinch. I calmly slid the charcoal pencil back up my sleeve. "It is a very calming subject, Dante," I called back, looking up at him. Dante leaned over the carved wooden railing. "Is it? I wouldn't have pegged you for a romantic."

Carden didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so instead of answering her, he just hissed. “Well, I wonder what you want to ask her?” *** Dalmi felt the pain at the back of her neck and on her hand when she arrived in their mansion. She held her neck with her hand and moved it from side to side, as though it could lessen the pain she was feeling. She then turned to open the passenger seat of the car her father made her use of while she was here and got the cake she made for Denver. \

"Grandma Rhoads, please save Uncle, save him, please!" Janna was speechless. A true chip off the old block – Darwin's own daughter indeed. Upon hearing Chicago's cries, Charles immediately put aside his book and came over. Once he grasped what had happened, an expression of speechlessness painted his face. He swiftly carried over his laptop, and within moments, located the last IP address that Darwin's phone had dialed. After swiftly hacking into the temple's surveillance system, he sifted through the myriad of tiny camera feeds, pinpointing Darwin.

I returned to the entrance of my apartment building, where a black Rolls-Royce stood parked by the roadside. Dante leaned against the car, holding a cigar. Sofia Conti was standing next to him, holding a young girl in a princess dress. That young girl, Bianca Romano, was giggling as she called Dante "Papa".