Chapter 1 - The Cold Truth
The first time I met the most feared man in New York, he ordered me to eat my dinner.
I had just accidentally dropped a positive pregnancy test in front of him.
And somehow, that wasn't even the worst part of my night.
"You think I would let you pay?" Dante asked.
I stared at him.
Most men who looked like Dante Marchetti didn't sit beside crying strangers and worry about whether they had eaten vegetables.
"I don't need charity," I said softly.
"No?"
I shook my head.
"Then what do you need?"
The question hit harder than it should have.
Because I honestly didn't know.
A husband who loved me?
A home that felt real?
Someone to tell me I wasn't foolish for carrying a baby into a broken marriage?
I looked down at my untouched plate.
"I think..." My voice cracked. "I think I need a different life."
Silence settled between us.
Then Dante said quietly:
"That's harder to order from a menu."
A laugh escaped me.
Small. Broken.
But real.
He looked strangely pleased by it.
Carlo placed bread and sparkling water in front of me.
"Eat," Dante repeated.
This time, I obeyed.
I took a bite.
Then another.
I hadn't realized how hungry I was.
Dante didn't speak while I ate. He simply sat beside me, one hand around his glass, as if waiting me out.
Finally, he asked:
"How far along?"
I instinctively touched my stomach.
"Eight weeks."
His gaze dropped to my hand.
Then back to my face.
"Does your husband know?"
I shook my head.
"I was supposed to tell him tonight."
"And instead?"
I laughed bitterly.
"Instead, he sent a text saying not to wait up."
Something cold passed through Dante's expression.
"Is he with another woman?"
I looked at him.
"How did you know?"
"You have the face of someone who's been lied to for a long time."
The answer stole my breath.
Because it was true.
I swallowed hard.
"Her name is Jessica."
He said nothing.
"She's his assistant."
Still nothing.
"I think..." I looked down at my hands. "I think he's in love with her."
A long silence followed.
Then Dante asked:
"Do you love him?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
That answer was enough.
His eyes softened almost imperceptibly.
"You already know what you need to do."
Tears burned my eyes again.
"I can't just walk away."
"Why not?"
"Because people don't leave marriages overnight."
He took a slow sip of his drink.
"Sometimes they do."
I looked at him.
"You say that like you've done it."
For the first time, he smiled.
It wasn't warm.
It was sad.
"My wife left me in a single afternoon."
I blinked.
"You're married?"
"I was."
The way he said it made me think there was an entire tragedy hidden inside those two words.
I wanted to ask.
But I didn't.
Instead, I whispered:
"I'm scared."
He looked at me for a very long time.
Then he said:
"Good."
I frowned.
"Good?"
"Fear means you understand that your life is changing."
I stared at him.
"And if I make the wrong choice?"
"You will."
I blinked again.
"What?"
"You'll make several wrong choices. Everyone does."
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
"But you'll survive them."
Something inside me cracked.
Because no one had spoken to me honestly in a very long time.
I looked away before I cried again.
Then my phone buzzed.
One message.
From Marcus.
Where the hell are you?
A second message arrived immediately.
Answer me.
Then another.
I checked the apartment cameras. I know you left.
The blood drained from my face.
Dante noticed instantly.
"What is it?"
I turned the phone toward him.
His eyes scanned the screen.
Then they became very, very cold.
"He has cameras?" he asked.
I nodded slowly.
"He says it's for security."
"And your location?"
I hesitated.
Then I whispered:
"He tracks that too."
The silence that followed felt dangerous.
Dante set down his glass.
"Turn your phone off."
"What?"
"Now."
I stared at him.
Another message arrived.
I know you're upset. Come home.
Another.
Amelia.
And then the last one.
The message that made my hands start shaking.
Don't make me come looking for you.
Dante read it over my shoulder.
When he looked up, something terrifying had settled into his expression.
"Carlo," he said calmly.
The bartender appeared immediately.
"Yes, sir?"
"Lock the front door."
I frowned.
"Why?"
Dante didn't answer.
One of the men who had entered with him suddenly touched his earpiece.
Then he looked toward Dante.
"Boss."
Dante slowly stood.
"What?"
The man glanced toward the window.
May you like
Then he said five words that made my heart stop.
"Someone's asking for his wife."
