Chapter 6 - THE GALA HE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO ATTEND|
The following morning, Seattle woke to headlines about Dante Moretti's health.
One newspaper claimed he had become incapable of managing his businesses.
Another suggested his private nurse had manipulated him.
A third published extracts from the stolen medical records, turning intimate details of his recovery into public entertainment.
I sat at Evelyn's kitchen table reading the articles while my coffee grew cold.
Every sentence felt like an invasion.
The worst headline appeared just after eight.
MORETTI FOUNDATION CONSIDERS EMERGENCY LEADERSHIP CHANGE AHEAD OF CHARITY GALA.
I closed the laptop.
Dante entered the kitchen a moment later, operating his wheelchair with one hand and carrying a cup of coffee in the other.
He had changed into dark trousers and a navy sweater.
A small bruise marked his wrist from the previous night's hurried escape.
He stopped beside me.
"Bad?"
"Very."
He glanced toward the laptop.
"Am I dying again?"
"Apparently."
"That's inconvenient."
I looked at him.
He smiled.
"I have plans."
I tried to return the smile.
Instead, tears gathered in my eyes.
Dante noticed immediately.
"Anna."
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"All of this."
He set down his coffee.
"Look at me."
I did.
"You didn't cause the leak."
"I know."
"You didn't arrange my accident."
"I know."
"And you certainly didn't force my brother to become a criminal."
I swallowed.
"Then why do I feel like everything became worse when I arrived?"
He studied me.
"Because someone wants you to believe that."
The words settled somewhere deep inside my chest.
I had spent so long carrying the shame of Noah's investigation that being blamed felt almost familiar.
Dante reached across the table.
"You're allowed to be angry."
I looked down.
"At whom?"
"Everyone who decided a convenient story mattered more than the truth."
I let out a shaky breath.
"That might be a long list."
"Then we'll need more coffee."
For a moment, I laughed.
Then his phone rang.
The screen displayed Lorenzo's name.
Dante watched it vibrate.
"Are you going to answer?" I asked.
"Yes."
He connected the call on speaker.
"Lorenzo."
"Dante, thank God."
His brother sounded genuinely relieved.
If I hadn't heard the recording, I might have believed every word.
"Where are you?" Lorenzo demanded.
"Somewhere quiet."
"Marcus told me you disappeared from the estate last night."
"Marcus didn't tell you that."
There was a pause.
"Well, one of the guards mentioned it."
Dante's gaze sharpened.
"Which guard?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does to me."
Lorenzo sighed.
"You're making this difficult."
"What exactly am I making difficult?"
"The foundation's response to the scandal."
Dante leaned back.
"Then stop responding without consulting me."
"Dante, this isn't personal."
"It became personal when someone leaked my medical records."
"Which is why we need to protect you."
I watched Dante's face.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't raise his voice.
He simply waited.
Lorenzo continued.
"The trustees are meeting this afternoon to discuss a temporary leadership arrangement."
"Without me?"
"You've been through a lot."
"That's not an answer."
Another pause.
Then Lorenzo's tone hardened.
"The situation is larger than your personal feelings."
Dante smiled without warmth.
"Interesting."
"What is?"
"Yesterday Victoria used almost the same words."
Lorenzo said nothing.
Dante continued.
"Tell the trustees I'll be attending the gala."
"Absolutely not."
There it was.
Not concern.
Not advice.
An order.
Dante's smile disappeared.
"Excuse me?"
"You can't put yourself through that kind of stress."
"Watch me."
"Dante, be reasonable."
"I am being reasonable."
"Your health—"
"My health is between me and my medical team."
Lorenzo's voice turned cold.
"You're making a mistake."
"Then it'll be mine."
Dante ended the call.
The kitchen went silent.
I stared at him.
"You really intend to attend?"
"Yes."
"Even after everything?"
"Especially after everything."
I looked toward the window.
Rainclouds hovered above the lake.
"Dante, the gala is tomorrow night."
"I know."
"You'll be surrounded by people who have spent months preparing to take control of your foundation."
"I know that too."
"And we're still gathering evidence."
He nodded.
"Which is why I need them to believe they still have the advantage."
I narrowed my eyes.
"You're planning something."
"Several things."
"Are any of them legal?"
He laughed.
"With the right attorney, all of them."
By noon, Dr. Evelyn Chen, Marcus, Noah, and Agent Rachel Pierce had gathered in the clinic's conference room.
Pierce was a sharp-eyed federal investigator in her forties who spoke with the calm precision of someone accustomed to separating facts from emotional claims.
She didn't appear impressed by Dante's reputation.
That alone made me like her.
"The recording is potentially important," she said, "but it isn't enough by itself to establish every element of the crime."
Dante nodded.
"What else do you need?"
"Original records, corroborating witnesses, financial transactions, and a clear chain of custody."
Noah placed several folders on the table.
"I have the transactions."
Pierce looked at him.
"You have copies."
"Yes."
"We need to authenticate them."
Dante leaned forward.
"How?"
"We have obtained legal process for records from several banks and contractors."
She studied him.
"Mr. Moretti, your cooperation could help us identify where the foundation's funds went."
"And the sabotage?"
"That investigation will require separate evidence."
Dante's expression darkened.
"My brother ordered someone to destroy my car."
"We're investigating that allegation."
He looked away.
I understood his frustration.
The recording felt like proof to us.
But feeling certain wasn't the same as establishing a case that would survive in court.
Dante eventually nodded.
"Then let's do this correctly."
Pierce turned toward me.
"Ms. Foster, we're also reviewing the medical disclosure."
I straightened.
"Will that clear my name?"
"If the evidence establishes that your credentials were misused, we can document that."
"How long will it take?"
"I won't promise a timeline I can't guarantee."
I appreciated the honesty.
Pierce opened another folder.
"There's something else."
Everyone looked at her.
"An attorney representing the foundation filed a petition this morning seeking temporary authority over Mr. Moretti's philanthropic assets."
Dante's face went cold.
"On what grounds?"
"Concerns about decision-making capacity and alleged undue influence."
My stomach dropped.
"Me."
Pierce nodded.
"The filing references your professional relationship."
Evelyn looked furious.
"Using a wheelchair doesn't establish impaired decision-making."
"Agreed," Pierce said.
"Neither does receiving nursing assistance."
"Agreed."
Dante looked toward the attorney sitting beside Pierce, a woman named Claire Bennett whom Marcus had retained overnight.
"What do we do?"
Claire closed her folder.
"We challenge the petition with medical evidence, corporate records, and your own testimony."
"Can they stop me from attending the gala?"
"Not merely because they've filed a petition."
Dante nodded.
"Good."
Claire leaned forward.
"But I need you to understand the practical risk."
"Tell me."
"Their strategy appears designed to portray you as someone who cannot independently manage complex matters."
I felt Dante's hand tighten around the armrest.
Claire continued.
"Every public appearance, every statement, and every interaction will be scrutinized."
He looked toward me.
Then back at Claire.
"Then they'll see me."
That afternoon, Dante asked me to accompany him to a private fitting room.
His charcoal tuxedo had been delivered from the estate.
I hung it beside the mirror.
For several seconds, we stood in silence.
Then he looked at me.
"Do you remember what happened the last time we were in a room with this jacket?"
I smiled.
"You threatened to fire me with your eyes."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
He laughed.
Then his expression softened.
"Anna, would you stay while I get dressed?"
I nodded.
"Of course."
He maneuvered closer to the wardrobe.
I sat in the same kind of chair I had used three days earlier.
And once again, I waited.
Dante worked slowly.
He adjusted his position.
Guided one arm through the sleeve.
Then the other.
The jacket settled across his shoulders.
This time, it took less than four minutes.
He looked at his reflection.
I watched pride return to his face.
"Better?" he asked.
"Much."
He held out his hand.
"May I ask you something?"
I stood and took it.
"Yes."
"When this is over, would you have dinner with me?"
I blinked.
"You mean as your nurse?"
"No."
His gaze held mine.
"As the woman I can't stop thinking about."
My heart stumbled.
"Dante."
"You don't have to answer now."
I looked at his hand around mine.
Then at the tuxedo jacket.
Then at the man who had spent six years fighting to have his decisions respected.
"I want to," I whispered.
His expression changed.
"But?"
"We need to handle our professional relationship properly."
He nodded immediately.
"Of course."
"If I stop being your nurse, I don't want anyone saying I abandoned you."
"Then we arrange a proper transition."
"And I don't want you making decisions because you think you owe me something."
Dante's eyes softened.
"Anna, you haven't asked me for anything."
"I know."
"And that's one of the reasons I'm asking."
I smiled.
"Then yes."
His fingers tightened gently around mine.
"Yes?"
"Yes, Dante."
He leaned closer.
For one suspended second, I thought he might kiss me.
Instead, he lifted my hand and pressed his lips against my knuckles.
It was so unexpectedly tender that my breath caught.
Then someone knocked.
Marcus entered carrying a sealed envelope.
"Boss, the gala committee just issued the revised program."
Dante released my hand.
"What's changed?"
Marcus unfolded the document.
His jaw tightened.
"They removed your speech."
Dante looked at him.
"And who replaced me?"
Marcus hesitated.
"Lorenzo."
I watched the warmth disappear from Dante's eyes.
But he didn't look defeated.
He looked ready.
"Then tomorrow night," he said, "my brother is going to have a surprise."
He turned toward the mirror.
Straightened his collar.
May you like
And smiled.
"Because I won't need his permission to tell my own story."
