By sunrise the mansion felt like a pressure cooker.
He moved through its corridors in silence, past men he trusted with his life, or thought he did. Every nod, every glance, every casual word felt laced with something else now. Suspicion was a poison and it was spreading fast.
In the dining room Marco was waiting. A file sat on the table between them, thick and unmarked. Dante took a seat, keeping his voice low.
"What do you have?"
Marco hesitated. "You were right. The breach came from inside."
Dante didn't react, not outwardly. But his pulse slowed, a cold calm settling over him. "Who?"
Marco opened the file. "Vincenzo. He's been with us eight years. Quiet, reliable… until last month. There were transfers, small at first. Then larger. From an untraceable account."
Dante's gaze darkened. "Who's the account tied to?"
"We don't know yet. But the timing lines up with when Elena arrived."
The words hung there, heavy and deliberate.
Dante leaned back in his chair. "So you think he sold us out."
"I think someone paid him to talk" Marco said quietly. "And if they know about her… they know about Mateo."
The faintest twitch of Dante's jaw betrayed the storm beneath. He didn't let emotion show often but the idea of harm coming to that child, to either of them clawed at something buried deep.
"Where is he now?"
"Downstairs. Waiting."
"Good," Dante said, standing. "I'll handle it."
Marco didn't move. "Dante maybe let me…."
"I said I'll handle it."
The edge in his tone cut off the argument. Marco just nodded.
As Dante walked toward the basement steps the thought gnawed at him, this was what weakness cost. Every time he let someone close the cracks formed. Every time he tried to build something safe, the world reminded him it wasn't meant for men like him.
And yet, when he reached the bottom of the stairs all he could think about was her face.
He'd have to decide soon, keep her in the dark or tell her everything and risk losing what fragile trust they'd built.
Elena's POV
The house felt different again.
It wasn't just the guards m, there were more of them, stationed at every hallway. It was the silence. The stillness that came before storms. Even Lucia avoided her gaze that morning, her hands trembling as she poured coffee.
"Is something wrong?" Elena asked.
Lucia smiled, a thin, practiced thing. "Mr. Moretti is handling it."
"Handling what?"
Lucia didn't answer. She just excused herself and left the tray on the table.
Elena stared after her then looked at Mateo who was drawing with a stub of blue crayon on the marble floor. His innocence was a cruel contrast to the air around them, a house full of men who spoke in half-truths and moved like ghosts.
She went to the window, watching the courtyard below. Two guards dragged someone across the gravel, a man, bloodied and half-conscious. For a second she thought it might be another intruder. Then she saw the look in Dante's eyes as he followed them out.
Cold. Controlled and utterly terrifying.
Her heart thudded.
Something inside her said to stay put but curiosity, fear or something else entirely pushed her forward. She made her way to the main hall, the sound of voices guiding her. When she reached the staircase landing she could see them below through the banister.
Dante stood in front of the kneeling man. His voice carried, low and sharp.
"How much did they pay you?"
The man Vincenzo, one of the guards she'd seen at dinner days ago shook his head weakly. "It wasn't…. A it wasn't like that. They said it was just information. Just names."
"Names" Dante repeated softly. "And what did you tell them?"
"I didn't think…."
"You never do."
Dante hit him, not out of rage but precision. A single, calculated blow that sent the man sprawling. The guards flinched but didn't interfere.
Elena's stomach twisted. She should look away. She couldn't.
"Tell me who paid you" Dante said again.
Vincenzo coughed, blood pooling on the marble. "You can't stop them. They're already inside."
That was when Elena's breath caught because his eyes lifted toward the staircase. Toward her.
Dante turned instantly.
"Elena…."
Too late.
Their gazes locked, the room spinning around her. For a heartbeat no one moved.
Then he was there, crossing the distance between them, his hand catching her elbow, his voice tight with anger. "What did I tell you about staying upstairs?"
"I saw…. I didn't mean…."
"You saw enough" he said quietly.
The heat in his voice wasn't just anger. It was fear. Real, unguarded fear.
He led her away from the railing, his grip firm but not cruel. When they reached the end of the hall he stopped, exhaling hard. "He was one of mine."
She looked up at him. "He was spying on you?"
"On us."
The words hit her like a physical blow. "Because of me."
"Because of what you saw that night" Dante corrected. "You think this is about you personally? You were in the wrong place Elena. That's all."
But his tone betrayed him. He didn't believe that. Not anymore.
"Then why not tell me?" she demanded. "Why keep me locked in this house like…."
"Because it's the only place you're still breathing" he snapped.
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut through steel.
He closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I didn't mean…."
"Yes" she said quietly. "You did."
She turned to walk away but his voice stopped her. Softer this time. "Elena."
She froze.
"I don't trust easily," he said. "But if I'm wrong about who I can trust now, more people die. Maybe you. Maybe your son. So if I seem cold it's because I can't afford not to be."
For a long time she didn't move. Then finally she turned back to face him. His expression was unreadable, all shadow and restraint but his eyes… his eyes told a different story.
"You should tell me when you decide" she said. "Whether I'm someone you trust."
He didn't answer.
Dante's POV
He watched her walk away, the sound of her footsteps fading into the hall and realised he'd made his decision long before she'd asked.
He couldn't tell her everything. Not yet. The fewer people who knew the details the safer she was.
But part of him knew that keeping her in the dark might destroy whatever fragile connection existed between them.
When Marco found him later in the study Dante was still standing at the window, the city skyline bleeding into dusk.
"She saw" Marco said.
"I know."
"You want me to move her somewhere else?"
Dante shook his head. "No. She stays here. With me."
Marco hesitated. "That's not smart, boss."
"I stopped being smart the night I found her" Dante said quietly.
For once Marco didn't argue.
Elena's POV
That night Elena couldn't sleep.
She stood by Mateo's bed watching him breathe. The moonlight traced pale lines across the floor. Downstairs somewhere in the vastness of the mansion she heard voices, low, urgent. She thought she caught Dante's among them, steady and commanding.
Every instinct told her to leave. To run. To take Mateo and disappear before this world swallowed them whole.
But something else, something she didn't want to name kept her rooted.
Because when Dante looked at her, even through all the walls he built, she saw a man who wanted to save something he didn't believe could be saved and for reasons she couldn't explain she wanted to believe him.
Outside a storm was building again. She felt it, not in the windbut in her bones.
And this time she wasn't sure they'd survive it.