Chapter 5 - The Mask Falls
Back at the Moretti estate, the temperature in Dante’s private study had plummeted to sub-zero.
The door was locked from the inside. Leo stood guard outside in the corridor with a loaded shotgun across his chest, turning away every lieutenant who arrived demanding answers about the harbor shutdown.
Inside the study, Bianca Salvi was tied to Dante’s heavy leather desk chair.
Her expensive dress was torn at the collar, her makeup ruined by tears of terror. But Dante wasn't hitting her. He hadn't touched her since he dragged her up from the wine cellar.
He didn't need to.
Dante was sitting behind his mahogany desk, systematically spreading out a series of black ledger books and private bank statements he had retrieved from a floor safe Bianca didn't know existed. Beside the ledgers lay Dante’s ivory-handled combat knife.
"The Harborview Hotel," Dante said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Room 1402. Paid from account 4482."
"Dante, I swear, it was just business—"
"Account 4482 isn't my account, Bianca," Dante interrupted quietly. "It’s the offshore trust my father set up for Sylvio before he died. An account that was liquidated five months ago and transferred to an account in the Cayman Islands under the name *V-Maritime*."
Bianca went rigid.
"V-Maritime," Dante repeated, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "Valenti Maritime. Luciano Valenti."
The silence in the room became absolute. The only sound was the clock on the mantel ticking away the seconds of Elena’s life.
"You thought I didn't know," Dante whispered. "You thought because I looked at you and saw Sylvio’s little girl, I was blind. You thought my grief over Anthony made me stupid."
Bianca’s expression slowly transformed. The weeping, trembling girl vanished. The mask of helpless innocence melted away, replaced by a bitter, venomous sneer that twisted her beautiful features into something grotesque.
"You *were* stupid, Dante," she spat, her voice shaking with long-suppressed malice. "You thought my father loved you more than his own flesh and blood! He built your docks! He made the Moretti name what it is! And when he died of cancer, you gave me a monthly allowance and patted me on the head like a stray dog!"
"I gave you forty percent of terminal revenue," Dante said coldly.
"I wanted all of it!" Bianca screamed. "It belonged to the Salvis! And you married that... that nobody! A terminal clerk! A girl who counted boxes for minimum wage! You made her the queen of the North Shore while I had to beg for your approval at board meetings!"
Dante didn't flinch at her outburst. He simply picked up the combat knife, turning the polished steel over in his hands.
"Anthony didn't die in a random dock shootout, did he?" Dante asked.
Bianca’s lips curled into a sickening smile. "Anthony was smart. He found out about the Valenti shipment six months ago. He was going to tell you. So I told Luciano where Anthony had his private boat docked in Gloucester."
A vein pulsed violently at Dante’s temple, but he remained terrifyingly still.
"And tonight?" Dante asked. "What was the plan tonight?"
"To destroy you," Bianca whispered, leaning forward as much as her bonds allowed. "Elena was never supposed to find the receipt today. I left it there because I knew she was proud. I knew she’d leave you the moment she thought you preferred me. She was supposed to walk out into the rain, get into her pathetic father’s car, and drive straight into Valenti’s ambush."
She let out a dry, cracked laugh.
"And she did, Dante. She looked right at you, gave you back your ring, and said *she wins*. And do you know the best part? She died thinking you were in bed with me. She died believing you never loved her."
Dante stood up.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't scream. He walked around the desk until he was standing directly behind Bianca’s chair.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear, his breath cold.
"Elena isn't dead," Dante whispered. "Because Luciano Valenti is a coward who wants an audience. He won't kill her until he has me in front of him."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his satellite phone, which had just begun to vibrate with a call from an untraceable number.
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"And now," Dante said, clicking the speakerphone on and setting it on Bianca’s lap, "you’re going to listen to me kill your partner."
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