Chapter 6 - The Interrogation RoomThe federal holding facility downtown smelled of industrial cleaner and stale coffee. Under the harsh fluorescent lights of Interrogation Room B, Dante Moretti sat in a metal chair, handcuffed to a bolted table. The untouchable king of Chicago looked battered, his suit wrinkled, his dark hair messy, though his eyes still burned with a trapped animal’s fury.
The heavy steel door creaked open, and I walked in alone, sliding a thick manila folder onto the table before taking a seat opposite him.
Dante stared at me, his chest heaving. "You think this is a game, Lena? You think putting me in cuffs for a few hours changes anything? My lawyers are already tearing those federal injunctions to shreds."
"Your lawyers are currently resigning, Dante," I said smoothly, opening the folder and sliding a document across the table. "I suggest you read page four. It details how your chief financial officer—the man you trusted with your offshore accounts—cut a deal with the DOJ this morning in exchange for witness protection."
Dante glanced down at the paper, his face draining of all color. The signature at the bottom was unmistakable.
"Traitorous bastard," Dante snarled, slamming his handcuffed wrists against the table, rattling the metal. He leaned forward, his eyes burning into mine. "And you? My wife? You conspired with Alistair Vance? Do you have any idea who that man is? He will chew you up and spit you out the second he gets what he wants from the Moretti empire!"
"Alistair is a businessman, Dante. He honors agreements," I replied calmly, resting my hands flat on the table, deliberately keeping my posture relaxed. "Unlike you, who promised forsaking all others while keeping Sofia Vale in your private office."
Dante flinched. The name still carried weight, but the anger quickly twisted back into desperation.
"Sofia meant nothing! It was a mistake, Lena, I swear to God!" Dante pleaded, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. He reached out, his chained hands scraping across the table. "Come back to me. Drop the charges, take half the empire, take everything! We can leave Chicago. Just... don't do this to us."
I looked at him—really looked at him—and felt a profound, liberating emptiness where my heartbreak used to be. The man begging across from me wasn't a king; he was a coward who only realized the value of something after he had shattered it.
"There is no 'us,' Dante," I said softly, standing up and smoothing down my skirt. "There hasn't been for years. And besides... there's something you should know before the trial starts."
Dante looked up, frowning. "What?"
I placed both hands on the edge of the table, leaning in close so only he could hear.
"I’m pregnant, Dante."
Dante’s eyes widened, a flicker of genuine hope flashing across his face. "A baby? Lena... that's... that changes everything. An heir! We can raise our family—"
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"Don't pop the champagne just yet," I interrupted, a cold, enigmatic smile touching my lips. "Because given our timeline... and the medical facts of my condition... your lawyers are going to have a very interesting time proving whose child this actually is."
Before Dante could process the chilling implication of my words, I turned around and walked out of the interrogation room, leaving him screaming my name into the empty concrete walls.
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