Dante POV

I told myself I was looking for a contract.

That was the lie I fed my conscience as I unlocked the bottom drawer of the mahogany desk in my study.

It was 3:00 AM. The penthouse was silent, save for the distant, lonely hum of the city far below.

Sofia was asleep in the master bedroom, likely dreaming of a wedding I had just exiled to the mountains.

I slid the drawer open. There was no contract inside.

There was only a small velvet box.

The velvet was worn at the corners, the blue faded to a dull, lifeless gray. It looked like trash. In this room dominated by Italian leather and imported marble, it looked like a mistake.

My hand trembled as I reached for it.

I shouldn't open it. I should toss it into the fireplace and watch it turn to ash, just like the rest of my life seemed to be doing.

Yet, I opened it.

The ring inside was pathetic by Vitiello standards. It was a thin silver band with a diamond chip so small you had to squint to see it shine.

I had bought it with money scrounged from stealing hubcaps when I was twenty. Before I was the Capo. Before I was a monster.

I remembered the day I bought it.

It had been raining.

I had been soaked to the bone, shivering outside the pawn shop, terrified that someone from my father's crew would spot me buying a promise for the maid's ward.

"I'm going to marry you, Elena," I had whispered to the empty air that day.

"We'll go to the mountains. We'll build a cabin. We'll name our kids after stars."

I stared at the ring now, the metal feeling freezing against my skin.

The memories hit me like a physical blow.

Elena laughing as we ran through the sprinklers. Elena bandaging my knuckles after my first kill. Elena looking at me with eyes so full of trust it made my chest ache.

And then came the blood.

My mother's body on the pavement. Elena's confession.

"I did it. I killed her."

The memory turned sour, curdling in my gut like poison. I slammed the box shut.

Why did I keep this? Why did I hoard a token of the woman who destroyed my family?

Because I was weak.

I stood and strode to the window. The reflection staring back at me belonged to a stranger. Dark circles under the eyes. A mouth set in a permanent line of cruelty.

Matteo said she was gone. She had taken the money. She had left.

She was probably laughing at me right now. Living it up on a beach somewhere with my money, happy to be rid of the Vitiello burden.

I felt a surge of rage so hot it scorched my throat.

I walked to the metal trash can in the corner of the room. I held the box over the opening.

Three months.

I gave myself a deadline. The wedding was in a month. The honeymoon would last two weeks. By the time I returned from the mountains, I would be a husband. I would be a father soon after.

I would scrub her from my veins.

I dropped the box.

It hit the bottom of the bin with a hollow thud.

"Goodbye, Elena."

I killed the light and walked out of the study, leaving the only pure thing I had ever owned in the garbage.

Dante POV

The invitation had been gathering dust on the counter for weeks.

*St. Jude’s Academy. Class of 2014. Ten Year Reunion.*

I hadn't wanted to go. I had no desire to look into the faces of people who used to fear me in the hallways. But Sofia had insisted. She said it was good for our image. She wanted to show off the ring. She wanted to show off the Don.

So, inevitably, we went.

The ballroom was suffocating. The air smelled of expensive perfume and quiet desperation. Men in rented tuxedos clapped me on the back, their palms sweating against my jacket. Women eyed Sofia with a sharp jealousy that made her preen like a peacock.

"You look tense, darling," Sofia whispered, running a manicured hand down my arm as if smoothing out a wrinkle in her favorite accessory.

"I'm fine."

I wasn't fine. I felt like a caged animal. Every corner of this room held a ghost. Over there, by the punch bowl, was where I had first kissed Elena. By the exit, that was where we had once planned our escape.

"Attention, everyone!"

The Class President, a man whose name had long since faded from my memory, tapped a microphone on the stage.

"Ten years ago, we all wrote letters to our future selves," he announced, beaming. "Tonight, we open them."

A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd. Waiters began circulating with baskets of envelopes.

"I didn't write one," I said to Sofia, my voice flat.

"Of course you did," she said, grabbing an envelope with my name on it from a passing basket. "Look. Dante Vitiello."

She tore it open before I could stop her.

"Read it to me," she giggled, leaning in, her breath sweet with champagne. "Let's see if the great Don achieved his dreams."

She pulled out the sheet of notebook paper. Her smile faltered.

I ripped the paper from her hand.

The handwriting was messy, rushed. I remembered writing it in detention, while Elena sat two desks away, pretending to study Chemistry.

*To Future Dante,*

*If you are reading this, you better be in Aspen. You better be sitting on the porch of that cabin with Elena. You better have a ring on her finger. Don't let your father turn you into him. Marry her. She is the only world you need.*

The words blurred before my eyes.

*She is the only world you need.*

Sofia was staring at me. Her face was pale. She had seen the name.

"Give it to me," she hissed, reaching for the paper with claw-like fingers.

I crumpled it in my fist. "No."

I turned and walked away. I needed air. I needed a drink. I needed to punch something.

"Dante?"

A hand grabbed my elbow. I spun around, ready to strike.

It was Luca. A guy I used to play football with a lifetime ago. He looked nervous, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting a hitman to jump out from behind the curtains.

"What?" I snapped.

"I... I heard about the fire," Luca said quietly. "At the estate."

I stiffened. "Yeah. Sofia saved me."

Luca frowned. He looked down at his drink, then back at me, conflict warring in his gaze.

"Dante, I was there. I was driving past the estate when it happened. I saw the smoke. I stopped to call 911."

"So?"

"I saw who dragged you out," Luca said.

My heart stopped. It didn't beat. It just froze in my chest.

"It wasn't Sofia," Luca whispered, his voice trembling. "It was the girl. The one with the dark hair. Elena."

I stared at him. The noise of the party faded into a dull, distant buzz.

"You're lying," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Sofia had the burns. She had the smoke inhalation."

"I saw her, Dante. She dragged you onto the lawn. She was... she was on fire. Her back... a beam must have hit her. She pushed you toward Sofia when the sirens started. Then she ran."

He paused, looking terrified of my reaction.

"She looked bad, Dante. Really bad."

I backed away from him. I couldn't breathe.

The burns. The scars on the floor of her apartment. The way she flinched when I touched her back.

*I did it for the money,* she had said.

Liar.

I turned and ran out of the ballroom.

Dante POV

I drove with a recklessness that should have killed me.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so hard the leather groaned under the pressure. The city lights blurred into streaks of neon madness outside the glass.

*It wasn't Sofia.*

The words echoed in my head. A broken record skipping on the same damning truth.

If Elena saved me... if she dragged me out of that fire... why did she let Sofia take the credit? Why did she let me believe she was a coward who abandoned me to burn?

And the scars.

God, the scars.

I slammed the brakes in front of the penthouse building, tires screeching against the asphalt. I left the car running in the loading zone. I didn't care if they towed it. I didn't care about anything.

I stormed into the elevator, jamming the button for the top floor. My mind was racing, forcing pieces of a jagged puzzle together—connections I had refused to see for five years.

The fire. The ring in the lake. The way she took my abuse without screaming, with that haunting, silent dignity.

I burst into the penthouse. It was empty, the silence deafening. Sofia was still at the reunion, probably spinning a sob story to her friends about my sudden exit.

Good. I needed the silence.

I went straight to my study. I unlocked the safe with trembling fingers.

Inside, tucked between stacks of cash and emergency passports, was another envelope.

Elena's letter.

I had stolen it from the basket before Sofia could see it. I hadn't planned to read it. I had told myself I wanted to burn it.

But I hadn't. Some part of me—the part that still bled for her—couldn't let it go.

I sat heavily in the leather chair. My hands were shaking so violently I could barely hold the paper. I ripped the envelope open.

Her handwriting was elegant, looped and precise.

*To Future Elena,*

*I hope you are happy. I hope you are safe. I hope you are with Dante.*

*I know his world is dark. I know his father is cruel. But when he looks at me, I see the light. I see the boy who brings me wildflowers hidden in his jacket. I see the man who will protect me.*

*Don't let the darkness win, Elena. Fight for him. Even if it hurts. Even if it costs you everything. He is worth it.*

*Love him until the end.*

I dropped the letter.

It fluttered to the desk, landing next to the crumpled ball of my own venomous note.

*Fight for him. Even if it hurts.*

She fought. She walked into a fire for me. She took the blame for a crime she didn't commit?

No. That was impossible. My mother... I saw the body. I heard Elena confess.

But why would a woman who wrote this letter kill the mother of the man she loved?

It didn't fit. The narrative I had built my hatred on was cracking, splintering under the weight of the truth. The foundation was rotting away.

I thought about the scars on her back. The angry, red welts I had mocked with such cruelty.

*Prison fight,* she had said.

*She was on fire,* Luca had said.

The pieces clicked into place with a sickening finality.

I put my head in my hands. A sound tore from my throat, a guttural, animal noise of pure, agonizing pain.

What have I done?