Chapter 4 - The Broken Door and the Nurse's Eyes
The hallway of the cramped apartment building smelled of old cooking oil and damp wood. Dante didn't bother knocking. He nodded to Marcus, who raised a heavy boot and kicked the door clean off its frame.
The apartment was small, spotless, but desperately poor. Dante walked straight into the bedroom. There, curled in a tight ball, was Lily, clutching her stuffed rabbit. Beside her lay Clara, her face pale with a terrifying blue tint around her lips, her chest straining violently for oxygen.
Dante immediately knelt by the bed. He pulled Clara into his arms, lifting her torso to help her breathe. "Marcus, call our private medical team. No city hospitals. Bring Dr. Rossi to the estate."
As Dante lifted Clara, her heavy leather handbag fell from the nightstand, spilling its contents onto the floor. A faded, cream-colored envelope slid across the linoleum, stopping right at Dante's feet.
He froze.
He knew that elegant, looping script. He would recognize it anywhere, even in the dark. It was his mother's handwriting.
With a shaking hand, Dante picked up the letter. He pulled the paper out and read the words Isabella had written from her deathbed—the warning against Valeria, the mention of Dr. Hallow, and the plea for him to look at the medicine and the hour.
Clara gasped, her eyes fluttering open for a brief second. She looked into Dante’s dark, fierce eyes. "The... the files..." she whispered hoarsely, her fingers weakly grasping his lapel. "Valeria... your mother didn't... didn't just die..."
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"Shh," Dante muttered, his chest tightening with an emotion he hadn't felt in a decade. "Don't speak. I have you. I have the letter." He looked down at Lily, who was watching him with wide, tearful eyes. "Come here, little one."
Lily reached out her small arms, trusting the intimidating man implicitly because he had saved her mother. Dante scooped Lily up in one arm and carried Clara in the other, marching out of the apartment like a king reclaiming his lost treasures.
