Chapter 32 32

Chapter 32 32
The Confrontation.

Giovanni walked into the gallery less than twenty minutes after calling her. Isabella heard the sound of his car a half-mile off. The engine cutting through the quiet afternoon like a chainsaw. Clattering against the peaceful existence she’d built for herself in these past few weeks. Chiara was with him, and they entered the gallery together, striding like they owned the place. The palpable fury that radiated from Giovanni even through the mask. She saw it in the way he moved when he entered the gallery. In the tension radiating from his entire body. The sharp, controlled movements that spoke of barely restrained violence.

“He came here?” Giovanni barked his question and strode to her. Her boss did not stop approaching until he was almost close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Dante De Santis walked into your gallery and spoke to you? And then actually approached you directly?”

“Yes.” Isabella said. She managed to keep her voice steady because her heart pounded so violently. “He said—”

“I do not care what he said!” Giovanni interrupted her again. His voice was hard. Cold. “The man is desperate, Isabella. I have been destroying his organization piece by piece for months. Taking his businesses, turning his allies into mine, and ruining everything else he built. Of course, he was going to try to use you to get to me against me. Of course, he was going to try manipulation.”

“He left something.” Isabella drew his attention to the folder on her working table. “Documents. He told me he did not order the hit on your. That someone framed him and that you have been hunting the wrong man.”

“Dante could have fabricated specially crafted fake pads and false Ledgers—that he indeed left at your disposal!” Chiara said, not a beat slower, before drawing closer to the table and rifling through the folder with disdain. She didn’t read it: just shifted the printouts that Isabella had piled on top of it without looking at them.

“But what if he is telling the truth?” She whispered. She should not push. Should not care about Dante de Santis. Should stay out of the way of this war that had nothing to do with her. But there was something about his desperation that had rung true. Something felt true in a way she could not ignore. “What if you have been hunting the wrong man for fourteen years?”

Giovanni went very still. Dangerously still. “You believe him?” His voice was quiet now. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that came before violence.

“I do not know,” she admitted. “But he seemed true. He seemed scared. He said that someone close to you. Someone you trust with everything has been lying to you for fourteen years. They have used your vendetta to doom him to ruin while staying safe. While they get rich off your war.”

“Someone I trust,” Giovanni repeated while leaning back. He gave each word the attention it deserved. “Who do you think it is, Isabella? Who was there for me when my family died? Who has helped me track every single one of them down? Who has given me resources, information, and support? Who helped me build everything we have?”

“Moretti.” The name fell from her lips before she could stop it. Before she could think about the possible consequences. She was in this now. She couldn’t backtrack. Chiara’s head snatched toward her.

“What did you just say?” Her voice was low and threatening.

“Gabriele Moretti.” She might as well go all the way. “He asks me strange questions. About my father. About what he might have said to me before he died. About whether or not he left something behind. Letters. Documents. Anything that might expose who really called in the crew. And he profits from your war with Dante. The longer you fight, the more territory he controls. The more power he exerts. The more money he makes. Both of you destroying each other benefits him the most.”

“That is ridiculous.” Chiara’s voice was cutting. “Moretti has been Giovanni’s best ally for fourteen years. His mentor. His friend. His—”.

“Think, Giovanni. Who told you, who gave you the evidence, who benefits most if you and Dante destroy each other?”

Giovanni’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “Moretti saved me. After my family was murdered, when I lost everything, when I wanted to die, needed to die, was alone and broken and half-deranged, he gave me purpose. Direction. Resources. He saved me, Isabella”.

“Or he gave you someone to kill”, Isabella said, and took a step forward. He needed to hear this. “A target for all that rage. A convenient focus for all your hate and grief and weakness. Someone for you to destroy, while he profited from your revenge. While he used you to carve up the city between your family and mine. While he made you into his personal assassin. While he built an empire out of the ashes of yours and Dante’s.”

She reached out and scooped up Dante’s folder before Chiara could stop her. “At least look at this. For one moment at least, try to see the truth. Just consider the idea that you have been a weapon for someone else’s fourteen years.”

“No,” Chiara said, and snatched the folder out of Isabella’s hands with unnecessary force. “No, this is exactly what Dante wants. Creating doubt. Distrusting our allies. Turning us all against each other. Divide and conquer.”

She turned to Giovanni. “You can’t be considering this. He’s been loyal for fourteen years. He’s never given you reason to doubt him. Never wavered. Never betrayed you. But this girl” —she made a disgusted little gesture towards Isabella—“Vinci’s daughter, who’s been here five minutes and wearing you around her little finger, tells you to doubt him, you actually consider it?”

“I’m not listening,” Giovanni said. His voice was weak, but his words were weaker. Isabella could hear the doubt. “I am just—”

“Just what?” Chiara pushed harder. She walked in his direction. “Just wondering... if maybe the woman you’ve been kissing is right? she’s worth more than fourteen years of loyalty. Than everything Moretti has worked Avery hard for you.”

The accusation was in the air, thick, strong. Isabella’s face was burning. Chiara had told him about that night. She told Giovanni what happened. About the fire. About kissing the stars. About tears. She told Giovanni about the intimacy of thar moment. Giovanni’s jaws locked. The tendons pumped angrily.

“That’s not-” he started.

“Isn’t it?” Chiara bellowed. Her voice became louder, more distorted. “you’ve changed.. Ever since she found out about her father. You’ve been kinder, more caring.... determined. And now she’s talking about Moretti’s crimes.... can’t you see what she’s doing? She’s cheating. She uses your emotions to make you fight your allies.”

“What do I do?” Isabella burst out herself. Her voice was equally loud. “I am preventing you from killing an innocent man, because someone has been lying to you for fourteen years! I’m trying to keep you from using Giovanni as a weapon!”

“Innocent?” Chiara laughed, and her laugh was acaustic.. “Dante De Santo is many things, but he is definitely not innocent.... criminal. He kills. He sells drugs and weapons and God knows what else. And you.. You protect him. You try to rescue him.... make me wonder what kind of deal you’ve made. What you’ve promised him. What! Pai Isabella has offered Giovanni to part with his allies?”

“I never made any deals!” Isabella was desperate. “I don’t even know him! He came into my gallery and laid a folder in front of me and told me to give it to Giovanni. That’s all!”

“Then why did it give you so much energy to rescue him?” There was something in this voice, something in Giovanni’s cold voice that made Isabella’s blood run cold. “Why do you care if I kill the man who killed my family, hired your father’s cre? Why are you protecting him, Isabella?”

“Because what if it wasn’t? How do you know who did it? How do you know you’ve been slaughtering him under his breath for 14 years when he’s still there, making friends with you, making friends with his bartender? What if all you’ve been through, all the people you’ve killed and all the lives you’ve blown up have been based on a lie?”

“Enough.” That word is the final word; Giovanni took the folder that Chiara gave him. I picked it up soon. “I’ll read Dante’s evidence,” he said in a completely unstable voice. “I’m going to read that right now. If everything’s a lie. Only created to deceive…”

“I already told you it is,” Chiara said quickly.

“Then Dante dies. Not soon, and painfully. And you... never again, Isabella. Never doubt my retribution Never protect a man who destroyed my family. Stay away from this war. Got it?”

She wanted to argue. Wanted to push harder. Wanted to make him see reason. But she saw the fury in his stance. The warning in his voice. The barely controlled violence radiating from him.

“Clear,” she whispered. Giovanni and Chiara left. Taking the folder with them. The door closed behind them with finality. And Isabella was left alone in the gallery. Standing among the beautiful things she restored. Wondering if she had just saved Dante’s life or signed her own death warrant for daring to question Giovanni’s fourteen-year vendetta. For daring to suggest that maybe, just maybe, he’d been played all that time.