DANTE'S POV
Maria Romano was dying.
I could see it in the way her chest moved with each breath. Shallow. Struggling. Like her body was giving up.
I sat in the chair beside her hospital bed and waited.
Some people would call this cruel. Sitting in a dying woman's room, waiting to blackmail her daughter. Maybe they were right.
But cruelty kept you alive in my world. Kindness got you killed.
Maria stirred. Her eyes opened, unfocused at first. Then they found me.
She didn't scream. Didn't panic. Just studied me with those green eyes—the same color as her daughter's.
"You're not a doctor," she whispered.
"No."
"Are you death?"
Almost smiled at that. "Sometimes. Not today."
She tried to sit up. Failed. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"My name is Dante Salvatore. And I'm here about your daughter."
Fear flashed across her face. Real fear. "If you hurt her—"
"I'm not going to hurt her. I'm going to save her." I leaned forward. "And you. If she's smart enough to take my offer."
"What offer?"
"The one that keeps you alive."
Before Maria could respond, footsteps echoed in the hallway. Fast. Urgent.
Bella.
I checked my watch. Twelve minutes since my driver picked her up. She'd read the contract fast. Smart girl.
The door burst open.
Bella stood frozen in the doorway, staring at me. Her face went pale.
"You—what are you doing here?" She looked at her mother. "Mama, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, baby. This man was just—"
"Leaving." I stood. "Walk with me, Isabella. Your mother needs rest."
"I'm not going anywhere with you—"
"Yes, you are." I held up the signed contract. "You already agreed. Or did you forget?"
Her jaw clenched. She kissed her mother's forehead and whispered something I couldn't hear. Then she followed me into the hallway.
"You had no right to come here," she hissed once we were alone. "My mother has nothing to do with this."
"Your mother has everything to do with this. She's the reason you're standing here." I started walking. She had to hurry to keep up. "She's also the reason you'll do exactly what I tell you."
"You can't just—"
I stopped. Turned. She nearly crashed into me.
"Listen carefully, Isabella. I own your mother's debt. Every penny. I own her treatment. I own her life." My voice dropped low. "Which means I own you. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."
Tears filled her eyes but didn't fall. Tough girl.
"What do you want from me?"
"Follow me."
I led her to a private waiting room. Empty. No windows. No cameras. I'd made sure of that earlier.
She stood by the door like she might run. I sat and pointed to the chair across from me.
"Sit."
"I'd rather stand."
"Sit. Please."
She sat. But her back stayed straight. Her chin lifted. Even terrified, she wouldn't break.
I liked that.
"Do you know who I am?" I asked.
"You told me. Dante Salvatore. You kill people."
"I do. But that's not all I do. I run the largest crime organization in Chicago. I control drugs, weapons, money. Politicians call me for favors. Judges change verdicts because I ask nicely." I watched her face. "People fear me. Do you know why?"
"Because you're a murderer?"
"Because I'm smart. Because I see opportunities where others see problems." I pulled out my phone and showed her a photo. "Recognize him?"
She looked. Gasped. "That's Senator Whitmore. He's running for governor."
"He's also stealing from his campaign fund and having an affair with his assistant. I know because his assistant talks too much at parties. She tells her friends. Her friends tell bartenders. Bartenders tell me."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"Everything. Information is power. But only if you know how to collect it." I put my phone away. "Rich people talk around servants. Politicians gossip around waitresses. Criminals brag around pretty girls at clubs. You know why?"
She shook her head.
"Because they don't see them as people. They see furniture. Decorations. Invisible." I leaned forward. "You've been invisible your whole life, haven't you? Working three jobs. Nobody notices you. Nobody remembers your name."
Her hands clenched in her lap. I'd hit a nerve.
"I'm going to teach you how to use that. How to be in a room and disappear. How to listen without being heard. How to remember everything and reveal nothing." I paused. "You'll attend events with me. Wear expensive clothes. Smile at dangerous men. And you'll tell me every word they say."
"You want me to spy for you."
"I want you to be my invisible weapon."
She stood up fast. The chair scraped against the floor. "No. Absolutely not. I won't—"
"Your mother starts treatment in forty-eight hours. The experimental kind that actually works. Costs three hundred thousand dollars." I stayed seated. Calm. "In three years, when your contract ends, she'll be cancer-free. You'll have a hundred thousand in savings. You'll be able to finish nursing school."
"And if I refuse?"
"Your mother dies by Friday. The hospital already has the order." I pulled out papers. "I bought the debt this morning. Legal. Binding. I can pull her life support with one phone call."
Bella's face crumpled. She pressed her hands over her mouth.
"You're a monster."
"Yes." I didn't deny it. "But I'm a monster who keeps his promises. Work for me, and your mother lives. Refuse, and you bury her by next week."
"This isn't fair—"
"Life isn't fair. You already know that." I stood. "You have ten seconds to decide. After that, I walk away and the offer dies with your mother."
"You wouldn't—"
"Ten. Nine. Eight."
"Stop!"
"Seven. Six."
"Please, just—"
"Five. Four."
"I'll do it!" The words burst from her. "I'll do it. I'll work for you. Just please save her."
I stopped counting. Studied her face. Tears streaked her cheeks now. Her whole body shook.
But her eyes blazed with something fierce. Something that said she'd remember this moment. Remember what I forced her to do.
Good. Anger kept you alive longer than fear.
"Smart choice." I pulled out another paper. "Sign this. It's your mother's treatment authorization."
She grabbed the pen and signed without reading. Desperate. Broken.
I felt something twist in my chest. Almost like guilt.
I crushed it.
"Your mother starts treatment tomorrow morning. You start tonight." I handed her a business card. "My driver will pick you up at seven. A dress will be delivered to your apartment. Wear it. Don't be late."
"Where are we going?"
"A charity gala. Lots of important people. Lots of secrets." I walked to the door. "Oh, and Isabella? If you try to run, if you try to warn anyone, if you breathe one word about our arrangement—"
"You'll kill my mother. I get it."
"No." I turned back. "I'll kill you. Your mother will live. But she'll spend the rest of her life knowing her daughter died because she couldn't follow orders."
The blood drained from her face.
"Do we understand each other?"
She nodded. Couldn't speak.
I left her standing there. Broken. Terrified. Mine.
In the hallway, Tommy waited.
"Boss, we got a problem."
"What kind?"
"Nico's been asking questions. Wants to know why you bought some random girl's debt. Says it's not like you to waste money."
My jaw tightened. Nico. My best friend. My underboss. The one person who knew me too well.
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing. But he's suspicious." Tommy lowered his voice. "You sure this girl is worth the risk? If Nico thinks you're going soft—"
"I'm not going soft. I'm being strategic." I started walking. "The girl is a tool. Nothing more."
"If you say so."
But as we left the hospital, I couldn't stop thinking about Isabella's face. The way she'd signed that paper without reading it. The way she'd looked at me like I was the devil himself.
Maybe I was.
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
*I know what you did. I know about the girl. We need to talk. —V*
V. Viktor Kozlov. The Russian bastard who'd been trying to move into my territory for months.
How did he know about Isabella already?
I showed Tommy the message.
His face went pale. "Boss, this is bad. If Viktor knows—"
"Then he's been watching me. Closely." I deleted the text. "Double security at the mansion. And tell Isabella's driver to take three different routes. Check for tails."
"You think Viktor will come after her?"
"I think Viktor smells weakness. And weakness attracts predators."
Tommy pulled out his phone to make calls.
I looked back at the hospital. Somewhere up there, Isabella was probably crying. Probably hating me.
She had no idea how much danger I'd just put her in.
Or that signing that contract might have signed her death warrant.