Chapter 28 The Devil’s Smile
The dust from Bianca’s car hadn’t fully settled before the olive grove seemed to shift around Lisa, the shadows stretching too long, too deliberate. She stood frozen in the yard, her fingers still curled around the grip of the pistol tucked into her waistband. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, loud enough to drown out the cicadas.
Bianca was a shark, but Lisa had learned how to survive among predators.
Still, it wasn’t Bianca who rattled her. It was the name she’d spoken so casually, like a blade slipped between ribs.
Dante.
“He’s coming back,” Lisa whispered.
The wind moved through the silver-green leaves, hissing instead of answering. A warning, maybe. Or confirmation.
She retreated into the cottage, bolting the heavy oak door behind her. The stone walls offered no comfort. For months, she had convinced herself that the Dante chapter of her life was sealed, buried beneath guilt and denial. He had been a mistake. The night was fueled by rebellion and the suffocating weight of Silvio’s control.
But Dante wasn’t a ghost.
He was a Moretti.
And Morettis didn’t stay buried.
Three days later, the rain came. The rain was heavy and relentless, turning dirt paths into sludge and muting the world to shades of grey. Lorenzo was in the barn, repairing the leaking roof. Lisa was alone in the kitchen, peeling potatoes she didn’t plan to eat, her thoughts spiralling.
The knock came softly.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Not aggressive. Not demanding. Rhythmic. Familiar.
Her knife slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.
Lisa reached for the gun without thinking and moved to the window, peering through a crack in the shutter.
A man stood on the porch.
He wasn’t dressed like a kingpin. No tailored suit. Just a dark cashmere sweater beneath a leather jacket. Rain dampened his hair, curls clinging to his temples. For one horrifying second, her heart leapt Silvio.
Then she saw the eyes.
Bright blue. Sharp. Alive with mischief and calculation.
Dante.
She opened the door only an inch, the barrel of the gun hidden behind the frame. “One more step,” she said coldly, “and I’ll see if you bleed as easily as your brother did.”
Dante didn’t flinch. He smiled the same crooked, boyish smile that once made her feel chosen. Now it made her skin crawl.
“Is that any way to greet the man who crossed half of Italy to find you?” he asked gently. “And please put the gun away. You know I’ve always preferred charm. Violence was Silvio’s speciality.”
“Silvio is dead because of men like you,” Lisa snapped.
“No,” Dante replied, his smile thinning. “Silvio is dead because he was sentimental. He died for a code that stopped working decades ago.” His gaze softened falsely. “But I’m here now. And I know you better than you think.”
“Bianca was here,” Lisa said. “She’s looking for a reason to kill me. If she finds you...”
“My mother is obsessed with legacy,” Dante interrupted, stepping forward until the door pressed against the gun. He leaned in, unbothered by the threat. His scent of cloves and expensive tobacco filled the space. “She wants a Moretti heir. Unfortunately for her, Silvio hadn’t touched you in months before the villa burned.”
The colour drained from Lisa’s face.
She tried to close the door, but Dante’s boot blocked it. He pushed inside easily, his presence swallowing the small kitchen whole.
His gaze dropped to her stomach.
The warmth vanished.
“It’s mine,” he said quietly. Not a question.
“No,” Lisa replied, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “It’s Silvio’s. He claimed it. He died believing it was his.”
Dante laughed, short and sharp. “Blood doesn’t care about belief. That child carries my DNA. My father’s name.” His eyes hardened. “If the family learns you’re passing a spare’s child as the king’s heir, they won’t just kill you. They’ll erase you.”
He advanced. Lisa backed up until the stove pressed into her spine.
Dante lifted a hand, stopping inches from her cheek. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t need to.
“I can protect you,” he said softly. “I have the ledger. The real one. The names of every man who betrayed the villa. Silvio thought it was destroyed, but I’m smarter than my brother.”
Her pulse roared.
“I have the kingdom,” Dante continued. “All I need is you beside me.”
“In exchange for what?” Lisa asked, her voice trembling with fury.
“Loyalty.” His smile returned, thin and sharp, but his eyes stayed cold. “The original ledger is hidden in the city vault; Silvio trusted no one else to touch it. You’re still the grieving widow, the woman everyone pities and underestimates. You can walk through those doors without raising a single alarm. They’ll open the vault for you, hand you the key, and never suspect a thing.
“Bring it to me, Lisa, and this chapter ends. Bianca will never touch you; her reach won’t come near you again. I’ll make sure of it. You and the baby won’t have to live like hunted animals, jumping at every sound, sleeping with weapons under your pillow. You’ll breathe freely. You’ll walk in the sun without looking over your shoulder.
“No more false names. No more cold stone walls. No more pretending you don’t exist. I’ll give your child a future that doesn’t begin with fear, and I’ll give you a throne instead of a hiding place.”
Lisa searched his eyes and saw the truth.
He didn’t love her.
He didn’t love the child.
He loved leverage.
“You’re a monster,” she whispered.
“I’m a survivor,” Dante corrected. He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. “One week, Lisa. Decide if you want to rule beside me or die protecting a ghost.”
He stepped back, slipping his smile on like a mask.
“Oh, and fix the barn roof,” he added casually. “It’s a shame to let good property rot.”
Then he was gone, swallowed by rain and mist.
Lisa collapsed to the floor, the gun clattering uselessly beside her. Her lungs burned as she gasped for air. Silvio had died to give her a future, but that future was built on lies.
If she gave Dante the ledger, she betrayed the man who saved her.
If she refused, she signed her child’s death warrant.
She clutched her stomach, shaking.
“I won’t let them take you,” she whispered. “Any of you.”
Thunder rolled in the distance.
Silvio was a memory.
Dante was a reality.
And in the world of the Morettis, reality always demanded blood.