Serena sat hunched over the mahogany desk in her study, the lamp casting a warm pool of light over the stack of papers she'd pulled from the old box. Her father's handwriting stared back at her—tidy, deliberate, and painfully familiar. The file was dated years before his death, yet the name that leapt off the page was as fresh as the threat still ringing in her ears.
Santorutto.
He had been on her father's radar long before she'd ever walked into a courtroom. The file didn't say much, just coded notes and clipped phrases—shipments, syndicate, Moretti? Her father had circled the last word in red ink, as if it were the key to everything. Serena traced the faded circle with trembling fingers.
Moretti.
Her heart stuttered. Could it really be the same name? The man who'd helped her in the courthouse lobby, whose dark eyes had lingered on her a moment too long, whose presence had felt like gravity itself pulling her closer? Dante Moretti.
The memory of him sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. She shook it off, forcing herself back into the present. This wasn't the time to indulge curiosity about a stranger. Whoever Dante was, he couldn't possibly be connected to this file. Coincidences happened. Names repeated. Right?
"Serena?"
The soft knock on the door pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. Jade peeked her head inside, her round belly now impossible to miss beneath her silk nightgown. "It's past midnight. You should sleep."
"I'm fine," Serena murmured, slipping the file shut before Jade could see.
"You say that every night," Jade sighed, waddling in with a maternal firmness that had grown stronger as her pregnancy advanced. "And every night, I find you digging into ghosts instead of resting."
Serena's lips pressed into a thin line. "They're not ghosts. They're answers. Answers I need."
Jade sat carefully on the edge of the desk, one hand absently resting on her stomach. "And what if those answers don't give you peace? What if they just break you more?"
Serena looked away, throat tightening. "Then at least I'll know."
The silence stretched, heavy with unsaid words. Finally, Jade leaned down and kissed the top of her head like an older sister. "Just… don't let it consume you, okay? You're not alone in this."
When she left, Serena reopened the file, eyes drawn again to the red-circled word. Moretti. She whispered it into the quiet, as if speaking it might strip it of its power.
But it didn't.
The next morning, Serena found herself standing outside the courthouse once again, coffee in hand, nerves buzzing. She had no official business there today, but her instincts had dragged her back, as if the marble walls themselves held the answers she craved.
And then, as if the universe were conspiring against her, he appeared.
Dante Moretti.
Tall, commanding, dressed in an immaculate charcoal suit that fit like it had been sewn onto him. He stepped out of a sleek black car, the kind of machine that purred money and power. His gaze swept over the street before landing on her. For a second, the world shrank. The bustle of the city faded. It was just him.
"Serena Vale," he said smoothly, as though he had been expecting her.
Her breath caught. "You—remember my name?"
His lips curved into something between a smirk and a secret. "Hard to forget."
The words lingered in the air, heavy with an unspoken promise. Serena fought to find her voice. "And you are…?"
"Dante." He extended a hand, the same hand that had gathered her fallen papers just days ago. His grip was warm, firm, steady. "Dante Moretti."
The name rang in her ears like a warning bell. She forced a polite smile, masking the unease stirring beneath her skin. "What do you do, Mr. Moretti?"
He didn't hesitate. "Imports and exports. A family business. Nothing exciting."
It was a lie—Serena could feel it in her bones. His eyes gave him away, the way they gleamed too sharply when he said nothing exciting. But she said nothing, unwilling to reveal the file burning a hole in her memory.
"Well," she said carefully, withdrawing her hand, "thank you again for helping me the other day."
"Don't mention it." His gaze lingered, deep and unreadable. "We'll be seeing each other again, Miss Vale. I have a feeling."
Before she could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the courthouse like smoke.
That evening, back at the townhouse, Serena sat curled on the couch with Maya and Chloe, the three of them sipping tea while Jade dozed in the armchair.
"You look haunted," Chloe said bluntly, brushing a cascade of curls off her shoulder. "Is this about that trial again?"
"It's about everything," Serena admitted, rubbing her temples. "The threats. The case. My father. It's all connected, I can feel it."
Maya, ever the calm voice of reason, leaned forward. "Then be careful. Obsession blinds people. You of all people should know that."
Serena exhaled sharply. "I'm not obsessed."
"Yes, you are," Chloe countered. "And it's going to get you hurt. Or worse."
Their words weighed heavy, but they couldn't shake the truth gnawing at her insides. The file. The name. The man.
Moretti.
When night finally fell, Serena retreated to her room, pacing restlessly until exhaustion dragged her to the bed. But her dreams were anything but peaceful. She dreamt of her father's face, stern and shadowed, whispering a single word over and over until it became a chant.
Moretti. Moretti. Moretti.
Across the city, Dante stood at the window of his penthouse office, the glittering skyline spread before him like a kingdom.
His phone buzzed.
"Did you make contact?" a voice asked.
Dante's lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile. "Yes. Just as planned."
"And?"
"She's curious. Good. Curiosity is the first step to control."
He ended the call, sliding his phone into his pocket. His gaze drifted toward the courthouse in the distance, and for the first time in years, Dante felt the stir of something unexpected—something dangerous.
Fate had brought Serena Vale to him. But he would decide whether she was a pawn in his empire… or something far more precious.
Either way, she would never escape him now.