Chapter 8 - What Her Father Wanted
Serena put the call on speaker.
“Why six?”
“Because Carlo is running out of patience.”
“With you or with me?”
A pause.
“Watch your tone.”
There he was.
Her father.
Even now, he expected obedience to come before fear.
“You put my name on those transfers.”
Patricia closed her eyes.
Vincent’s voice softened.
“Arthur has been talking.”
“Answer me.”
“You signed plenty of papers, sweetheart.
You can’t expect to remember every one.”
Dante’s grip tightened around the edge of the bench.
Serena kept her voice steady.
“I remember what I didn’t do.”
“Then come explain it to me.”
“Why can’t we talk now?”
“Because I have documents that can protect you.
Come alone, and this stays inside the family.”
“You tried to kill my husband.”
“He was going to leave you.”
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“It became my decision when he threatened everything I built.”
The room went still.
Vincent seemed to hear his own mistake.
“Six o’clock,” he repeated.
The call ended.
Elias checked the time.
4:36 a.m.
Arthur reached for his phone.
“We need independent counsel.
And we need investigators who aren’t tied to these families.”
Dante gave a bitter smile.
“You’re finally saying that?”
“Yes,” Arthur said.
“Late.
But yes.”
He contacted a criminal attorney he had worked against for years.
Within half an hour, they were speaking through a secure video call.
The attorney asked direct questions.
No one liked the answers.
Dante admitted the threats.
Patricia admitted her signatures.
Arthur admitted the false assurances he had given.
Serena held up the letter accusing her.
The attorney warned them that accusations and copies were a beginning, not a finished case.
She could contact federal investigators about the financial records and coordinate with the police handling the fire and shooting.
No one promised an arrest by breakfast.
Then Patricia spoke.
“There’s a camera system in Vincent’s office.
He keeps recordings because he thinks they protect him.”
“Does it record sound?” the attorney asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you have access?”
“Not remotely.”
Serena looked toward the garage door.
Dante recognized the expression immediately.
“No.”
“My father expects me.”
“No.”
“He has the originals.
He has recordings.
And he’s leaving.”
Dante stepped in front of her.
“I just found out you love me.
You don’t get to turn that into a funeral.”
May you like
Serena held his gaze.
“Then help me come back.”
