Chapter 3 - The King on His Knees
"They aren't your leverage, Dante," I spat, my voice laced with venom as I stood my ground. "You traded your right to be a father the second you let Sofia Vale lay her hands on you in your office!" I expected his signature cold fury, the explosive rage that made grown men kneel in terror. Instead, the most feared man in Chicago dropped to his knees right there on the scuffed wooden floorboards of my tiny hallway.
I froze, stunned into absolute silence. Dante Moretti did not bow to syndicate bosses, federal prosecutors, or kingpins. Yet here he was, resting his forehead against my hip, his hands gripping the hem of my coat with desperate intensity. "I never touched her, Lena," he whispered, his voice ragged with emotion. "I let you believe the lie because it was the only way to keep you alive."
I pulled back, staring down at him in total disbelief. "Do not sit there and manufacture noble excuses for your infidelity! I saw her hands on you! I smelled her perfume on your coat weeks before!" Dante slowly looked up, his dark eyes brimming with an agony so intense it cut straight through my defensive walls. "Sofia wasn't my mistress, Lena. She was an undercover mole sent by the Genovese family to find my weakest point. And that night, she threatened to put a sniper bullet through your head if I didn't give her access to my vault."
