The sound of Dante's footsteps faded, leaving Amelia alone in the eerie silence of the living room. She glanced around nervously, her grip tightening on the letter. Every creak of the house felt amplified, every shadow seemed alive.
Moments later, a loud crash echoed from upstairs, followed by muffled voices. Her instincts told her to stay put, but fear and curiosity drove her forward.
She crept up the staircase, careful to avoid the spots that creaked. The sound of voices grew louder—Dante's low and commanding, and another voice, unfamiliar and taunting.
Amelia reached the hallway, her heart pounding. The door to one of the guest rooms was slightly ajar, and she could see Dante inside, his gun trained on a man dressed in black.
"You've made a mistake coming here," Dante growled, his tone deadly.
The man smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Have I? Or have you made the mistake, Dante, by thinking you could hide your secrets forever?"
"Who sent you?" Dante demanded.
The man chuckled. "You already know the answer. Victor Castellano sends his regards."
Amelia gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth. The man's head whipped toward the door, and for a brief second, their eyes met.
"Ah, the wife," he sneered. "Victor was right. You do have a weakness, Moretti."
Before Dante could react, the man lunged. The sound of a gunshot rang out, shattering the tense silence. Amelia flinched, her heart hammering in her chest.
When she dared to peek into the room, she saw Dante standing over the man, his expression cold and unrelenting. The intruder lay on the floor, clutching his shoulder where blood seeped through his fingers.
"You're lucky I didn't aim for your head," Dante said, his voice sharp as a blade. "Now start talking."
The man winced but managed a crooked grin. "You think you can stop this? Victor doesn't need me to finish what he started. You're already a dead man walking, and your little wife… she's just collateral damage."
Dante's jaw tightened, but his gun didn't waver. "If you value your life, you'll tell me everything—now."
The man laughed weakly, spitting blood onto the floor. "Victor doesn't want you dead, Moretti. Not yet. He wants you to suffer. To lose everything you've built, piece by piece. Starting with her."
Dante's eyes flicked toward the door where Amelia stood frozen. She tried to step back, to disappear into the shadows, but it was too late.
"Amelia," Dante said, his voice softer now but laced with urgency. "Go downstairs. Now."
She shook her head, her voice trembling. "Dante… who is this man? What does he want from you?"
"Amelia, go," Dante repeated, his tone more forceful this time.
But before she could move, the man on the floor spoke again, his voice dripping with malice. "He won't tell you the truth, darling. Dante Moretti isn't the man you think he is. Ask him about the night in Milan. Ask him how many lives he ruined to save his own skin."
"Milan?" Amelia whispered, confusion and fear swirling in her chest.
Dante's face darkened, and without another word, he delivered a swift blow to the man's temple, knocking him unconscious. The room fell silent except for the heavy sound of Amelia's breathing.
"Are you hurt?" Dante asked, stepping toward her.
She took a step back, her mind racing. "What is he talking about, Dante? What happened in Milan?"
"This isn't the time," he said curtly, grabbing her arm to lead her away.
"No!" she shouted, pulling free from his grip. "You keep telling me to trust you, but you're hiding everything from me. Who is Victor Castellano? What did you do to him? And what happened in Milan?"
Dante exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. "Amelia, you don't understand the world I live in. The less you know, the safer you'll be."
"Safe?" she echoed, her voice rising. "Do I look safe to you, Dante? That man just broke into our house and threatened my life. I'm already in danger because of you!"
His silence spoke volumes, and for the first time, Amelia saw something she hadn't expected—regret.
"I never wanted this for you," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "But there are things in my past that I can't undo. Victor is one of them."
Before she could press further, the sound of sirens echoed in the distance. Matteo appeared in the doorway, his expression grim.
"The cleanup team is on their way," he said. "We need to move quickly."
Dante nodded, his demeanor shifting back to the cold, calculated man she had come to know. He turned to Amelia, his eyes hard.
"Stay in your room tonight. Don't open the door for anyone but me."
"But—"
"Amelia, please," he said, his voice softening for just a moment. "I'll explain everything, but not tonight."
She wanted to argue, to demand answers, but the look in his eyes stopped her. With a heavy heart, she retreated to her room, locking the door behind her.
As she sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the letter from Victor, one thought consumed her mind.
Dante wasn't just her husband. He was a man with dangerous secrets, and whether she liked it or not, she was now a part of his world.