Chapter 2 - THE ENEMY'S PALACE
"I'm not going anywhere with you," Elina stammered, stepping back until her spine hit the rows of sparkling liquor bottles. The baby stirred in her arms, letting out a soft, sleepy murmur, his tiny fist tightening instinctively against her collarbone. "I have a shift to finish. And you—you're out of your mind!"
Dante Orelio didn't blink. He raised two fingers, and Marco was already moving, placing a thick stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills on the bar—enough to buy the entire restaurant, let alone cover Elina's wages for a year.
"Your shift is over," Dante said coldly. "And you are not leaving my sight until I find out how a dead woman’s face ends up serving sea bass in a downtown dive."
Before Elina could scream, drop the baby, or throw a glass of red wine in his arrogant face, two heavy-set guards flanked her sides. They weren't rough, but their presence was an iron wall. She had no choice. If she dropped the child, he would cry; if she fought, the restaurant manager was already cowering near the kitchen doors, too terrified to intervene.
"Fine," Elina hissed, her jaw tight with a mixture of terror and fierce pride. "I'll go. But don't think you can just kidnap a waitress because of some creepy resemblance!"
Inside the FortressTwenty minutes later, Elina found herself shoved—gently, but firmly—into the back of a bulletproof Maybach. The leather interior smelled of rain and cedar. Dante sat across from her, his intense gaze never leaving her face, while the baby—whom they called Leo—slept soundly with his tiny head pillowed directly against Elina's shoulder.
The car rolled through the iron gates of a sprawling, heavily guarded estate nestled in the hills overlooking the city. High stone walls, security cameras, and armed patrols made it look less like a home and more like a medieval fortress adapted for the modern underworld.
"Bring her to the private wing," Dante commanded as the car came to a smooth halt.
As they walked through grand double doors into a dimly lit, high-ceilinged penthouse suite, a woman with sharp, aristocratic features and raven hair rushed down the sweeping staircase.
"Dante, where have you been? Leo wouldn't stop—" She stopped dead in her tracks.
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Vera Orelio, Dante’s fiercely protective sister, stared at Elina. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, and her eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated shock.
"Elena...?" Vera whispered, taking a staggering step backward. "How... how are you alive?"
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