Chapter 6 - The Spider's Web"You think everything can be bought, don't you, Mr. Valente?" I whispered, my voice steady as I handed a sleeping Emma back into her father's arms.
Adrian carefully cradled his daughter, his massive frame shifting instinctively to support her head. For a fleeting second, the ruthless mafia boss vanished, replaced by a terrified father who had almost lost his entire world.
"In my experience," Adrian murmured, standing up and laying Emma gently into her crib, "loyalty is just a price tag waiting for the right bidder. But you... you didn't sell out Dante to Vance. You gave him to me."
"I didn't do it for you," I said, standing up from the rocking chair and smoothing down my red blazer. "I did it because an innocent baby almost died in a dumpster while your trusted men played corporate chess. And if you think Dante was the master planner behind this, you're more blind than I thought."
Adrian turned sharply, his eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about?"
"Dante was stupid, reckless, and greedy," I said, walking toward the nursery door. "He didn't have the sophistication to orchestrate a high-level inside hit, disable encrypted security protocols, and secure a professional pharmaceutical-grade sedative to drug a seven-month-old baby."
I paused at the threshold, turning back to look him dead in the eye.
"Someone else inside this estate gave Dante the order. Someone who watches every move you make, drinks your scotch, and smiles in your face every single morning."
Before Adrian could demand a name, a sharp, frantic knock echoed at the end of the hallway. One of the security guards rushed up the stairs, panting heavily.
"Boss! We have a situation in the basement holding cell!"
Adrian's head whipped toward the guard. "What kind of situation?"
"Dante Moretti... he's dead."
A cold shudder ran down my spine. The house of cards was collapsing faster than I had anticipated.
We sprinted down to the basement holding cell. The heavy iron door stood wide open. Inside, Dante slumped forward over a steel table, a thin stream of dark, viscous foam dripping from the corner of his lips. A shattered glass of water lay on the floor beside him.
Adrian dropped to one knee, checking Dante’s pulse on his neck. He stood up slowly, his face drained of all color, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated murderous rage.
"Cyanide," Adrian whispered, his voice trembling with fury. "It was slipped into his water within the last ten minutes."
I looked around the sterile concrete room, my eyes landing on the security monitor mounted in the corner. The red recording light was blinking.
"Check the hallway camera," I commanded, stepping forward. "Whoever poisoned Dante had to walk past this door."
Adrian’s guard frantically tapped at the console, pulling up the playback log. The video flickered to life, showing the corridor outside the cell ten minutes prior.
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The screen flickered, and my blood ran ice cold.
Walking away from the cell door, wiping a drop of sweat from her forehead with a pristine white handkerchief, was Karen Mitchell.
