Chapter Eleven: The Fault Lines Crack
At the Conti Estate
The tension between Dante and Leonardo was palpable, like a taut string ready to snap. Leonardo's composure wavered, but he masked it with a sardonic smile, his sharp jaw twitching under the dim chandelier light.
"You've always loved theatrics, Dante," Leonardo sneered. "But I don't see you walking out of here unscathed."
Dante tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "You're playing a dangerous game, Leonardo. Tell me—how much did you sell your soul for?"
The words landed like a slap, but before Leonardo could retort, Vittoria stepped between them. Her dark eyes gleamed with barely concealed malice as she twirled the stem of her wine glass.
"Let's not resort to petty insults," Vittoria purred. "We're all adults here, aren't we?"
Dante's gaze cut through her like a blade. "Spare me the act, Vittoria. I know exactly how deeply you're entangled in this mess. The only reason you're still standing is because I haven't decided what to do with you—yet."
Vittoria's confident facade faltered for the briefest of moments, but she recovered with a chuckle. "You always did have a flair for melodrama."
Leonardo, however, was less composed. He slammed a hand against the desk, his voice booming. "Enough! You think you can walk in here and dictate terms, Dante? You don't have the leverage you think you do."
Dante's smirk widened as he pulled out a second USB drive from his pocket, holding it up like a trophy. "Funny you should say that. This one? It has your contingency plans. Offshore accounts. Fake identities. Shall I continue?"
Leonardo's face turned ashen, the cracks in his confidence spreading like wildfire.
"Careful, cugino," Dante added, his voice like ice. "Your desperation is showing."
The room plunged into a tense silence, broken only by the distant sound of the estate's clock chiming the hour. Vittoria set her glass down on the desk, her expression tightening as her carefully curated control began to slip.
But before anyone could speak, the estate's double doors slammed open. All heads turned as a tall figure stepped into the room—Alessio Romano.
His presence was a storm, his dark eyes scanning the scene with icy precision. Without a word, he walked to Dante's side, his silence speaking volumes.
Leonardo's jaw clenched. "Ah, the Romano guard dog arrives. How predictable."
Alessio's gaze didn't waver. "You should be more concerned about what's coming next, Leonardo. Consider this your only warning."
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At Moretti Enterprises
Lia sat stiffly in the waiting area, the folder on her lap feeling heavier by the second. The receptionist glanced at her occasionally, her polite smile unwavering but tinged with curiosity.
Her thoughts were a whirlwind. Marco's warning about Leonardo and Vittoria gnawed at her, but so did the looming conversation with Dante. The weight of everything she'd been through—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the uncertainty—threatened to crush her.
"Ms. Romano?" the receptionist's voice broke through her thoughts.
Lia looked up to see Dante's assistant, Marcella, standing in the doorway. The woman's expression was professional but tinged with subtle unease.
"Mr. Moretti will see you now," Marcella said.
Lia nodded, rising to her feet. She straightened her blouse, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, and followed Marcella down the sleek, polished hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last, her pulse quickening as they neared Dante's office.
The large oak doors loomed ahead, a symbol of the man who had once been her world—and now was her greatest torment. Marcella opened them with a quiet, "Good luck," before stepping aside.
Dante stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his silhouette framed by the glittering city lights. His presence was commanding, as always, but there was a tension in his posture that Lia hadn't expected.
He turned slowly, his dark eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of unspoken words filling the air.
"You came," he finally said, his voice low and measured.
"I had to," Lia replied, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. "We need to talk, Dante."
His gaze flicked to the folder in her hands. "I see you've been busy."
"This isn't about me," Lia said firmly, her fingers tightening around the folder. "This is about what you've done. To me. To my family."
Dante's jaw tightened, his expression unreadable. "And yet, you're here. Why, Lia?"
Her chest tightened, the weight of her emotions threatening to spill over. "Because I deserve answers, Dante. I deserve the truth."
He stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking. His dark eyes burned with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"You want the truth?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "The truth is, I never stopped loving you. And I'll be damned if I let you walk away again."
Lia's heart raced, her resolve wavering under his piercing gaze. But she forced herself to stand tall, refusing to let him intimidate her.
"Love isn't enough, Dante," she said quietly. "Not when trust has been shattered."
For a moment, his mask slipped, revealing a flicker of vulnerability. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the unyielding determination she had come to know all too well.
"Then we'll rebuild it," he said, his voice firm. "No matter what it takes."
To Be Continued...