Chapter 4 - The Fiancée Who Was Afraid to Tell Him

The SUV belonged to the hotel.

Not Vivienne.

Driver unknown.

Dante ordered the gates closed.

Too late.

The vehicle was already on River Road.

Lena stood near the windows.

Rain covered the glass.

Dante looked at his security chief.

“Track it.”

“We are.”

“Police?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Lena glanced at him.

He noticed.

“What?”

“You don’t trust them.”

“No.”

“Because of the yacht?”

“Because my father paid half of them.”

Fair.

Twenty minutes later, security found Vivienne.

Not in the SUV.

In the laundry corridor.

Barefoot.

Crying.

One wrist bruised.

Lena recognized the corridor.

Staff only.

Vivienne had escaped through a service stairwell.

Dante looked at her.

“Who?”

“Marco.”

“You saw him tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Parking level.”

“Why?”

“He texted from my grandfather’s old number.”

Dante frowned.

“Your grandfather is dead.”

“I know.”

“What did he want?”

Vivienne looked at Lena.

Then Price.

Then Dante.

“He wanted to know whether you felt the towels.”

Silence.

Dante stared.

“He knew.”

“Yes.”

“He knew about the nerve tests.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Vivienne looked at Dr. Price.

Price went pale.

“I did not tell him.”

Vivienne said:

“Your assistant did.”

Price stared.

“Which assistant?”

“Dr. Cole.”

Price sat down.

Dr. Jenna Cole.

Thirty-nine.

Neurorehabilitation specialist.

Worked with Dante two months after the explosion.

Left suddenly.

Dante whispered:

“She was on the original team.”

Price nodded.

“Yes.”

Vivienne continued.

“She works with Marco.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed.

“Works with?”

“She believes the yacht attack was ordered by someone inside your family.”

Dante went still.

“My father?”

“No.”

“Who?”

Vivienne shook her head.

“She never told me.”

“Then why threaten you?”

“She didn’t.”

Dante frowned.

“Marco did.”

Vivienne looked at him.

“They are not on the same side.”

Silence.

Lena watched Dante process it.

Marco.

Cole.

Vivienne.

His father.

Too many secrets.

Dante asked:

“What did Marco say in the garage?”

Vivienne’s voice shook.

“He said you reacted to heat.”

“Yes.”

“He said that meant the last phase had started.”

Dante stared.

“What phase?”

“I don’t know.”

“Vivienne.”

“I don’t know.”

She began crying.

“He grabbed me when I tried to leave.”

Dante looked at the bruise.

His face changed.

Then:

“Why didn’t you tell me about the threats months ago?”

Vivienne looked at him.

“Because the first message included a photograph of you asleep.”

Dante stopped.

“In this suite?”

“Yes.”

Lena felt cold.

Vivienne continued.

“Someone had been standing beside your bed.”

Dante’s eyes moved toward the bedroom.

Security shifted.

Vivienne said:

“He wrote that if I told you, the next photograph would be after.”

Silence.

Dante asked:

“And you believed him.”

“Yes.”

“Enough to hide my recovery.”

“Yes.”

Dante looked away.

Vivienne whispered:

“I am sorry.”

He did not answer.

Lena expected him to send her away.

Instead:

“Sit.”

Vivienne blinked.

“What?”

“Sit down before you fall.”

She did.

Dante looked at Price.

“Call Cole.”

Price shook his head.

“I don’t have her number.”

Lena said:

“Maybe Marco does.”

Everyone looked at her.

She pointed at the photograph.

“If he wanted Vivienne to see it, he wanted contact.”

Dante looked at the back.

KEEP DANTE IN THE CHAIR OR HE DIES.

Then turned the photograph under the light.

A faint imprint.

Numbers.

Pressure marks from something written on top.

Price brought graphite.

They shaded the back.

A phone number appeared.

Dante called.

A woman answered.

“Dante Vale.”

He froze.

“You know who this is.”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Cole.”

“Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“Not safe.”

“Marco?”

“He is not with me.”

“Is he trying to kill me?”

“No.”

Dante stared.

“Then why is he threatening Vivienne?”

Cole exhaled.

“Because he thinks fear is the only thing people in your family understand.”

Dante’s jaw tightened.

“Try me.”

Cole said:

“Your yacht was sabotaged.”

“Yes.”

“By someone who wanted you paralyzed.”

Silence.

Lena frowned.

Not dead.

Paralyzed.

Dante understood too.

“They wanted me alive.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Cole replied:

“To control the Vale organization through you.”

Dante looked at Vivienne.

“Who?”

Cole hesitated.

Then:

“Your uncle.”

Dante’s face changed.

“Gabriel.”

Gabriel Vale.

His father’s younger brother.

Still alive.

Still respected.

Still seated on the company board.

Still called Dante every Sunday.

Dante whispered:

“My uncle arranged the explosion.”

Cole said:

“I found evidence.”

“Where?”

“In your original spinal scans.”

Price frowned.

“What?”

Cole continued.

“The blast injured you.”

“But?”

“Someone injected a neurotoxin before surgery.”

Silence.

Price stood.

“No.”

Cole said:

“Yes.”

Dante’s face emptied.

“The paralysis was made worse.”

“Yes.”

“By who?”

Cole answered:

“Someone with access to your hospital room.”

Price whispered:

“There were only four people.”

Dante looked at him.

“My father.”

“Yes.”

“Gabriel.”

“Yes.”

“You.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Price’s face went pale.

“Marco.”

Dante stared at the phone.

Cole said:

“That is why Marco disappeared.”

Dante’s voice hardened.

“He did it.”

“No.”

“Then why run?”

“Because he saw who did.”

Silence.

Dante whispered:

“Who?”

Cole answered:

“Your father.”

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And for the second time that night, the dead man who had claimed to protect Dante became the center of the lie.

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