Chapter 3 - THE PRICE OF PROTECTIONFor several seconds, all I could hear was the monitor beside me.
A steady electronic pulse.
Too calm for the way my world had just shifted.
“You know Liam?”
“I know of him.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Dante looked at Dr. Chen.
“May we have a moment?”
Dr. Chen folded her arms.
“That depends on Emma.”
I nodded.
She left, but the door remained partly open.
Dante did not object.
“My family’s shipping company lost six million dollars during a warehouse transfer four years ago,” he said. “Your brother was working security that night.”
“I know the case.”
“Then you know the evidence placed him inside the restricted loading area.”
“Jake testified against him.”
“Yes.”
My skin went cold.
Jake had been Liam’s supervisor.
He told police he caught Liam altering security schedules. He cried at our kitchen table afterward and told my mother he wished he could have protected him.
Six months later, Jake and I began dating.
At the time, his attention felt like kindness.
Now the memory made me sick.
“Why didn’t you help Liam?”
“I tried.”
“He’s still in prison.”
“Because someone inside my organization ensured the evidence remained buried.”
“Someone who works for you?”
“Someone who once did.”
Dante’s wording was careful.
Too careful.
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then how do you know Liam was innocent?”
“The money never left Moretti-controlled territory. Your brother had no access to the accounts where it eventually appeared.”
“Did his lawyer know?”
“His lawyer was paid to lose.”
My fingers curled around the blanket.
Liam’s public defender missed deadlines, ignored witnesses, and urged him to accept a plea. Liam refused because he was innocent.
That refusal cost him a longer sentence.
“My mother sold her house for his defense.”
Dante’s face tightened.
“I know.”
“You knew all this while he sat in prison?”
“I learned the full extent only recently.”
“How recently?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“And you didn’t tell us?”
“I was verifying the information.”
“While my mother received chemotherapy?”
“An accusation against the wrong person could place both of you in greater danger.”
“Greater than this?”
I pulled aside the hospital gown, showing him the bruises.
For the first time, Dante looked away.
That should have satisfied me.
It didn’t.
“You knew Jake was connected to Liam’s case.”
“I knew his name.”
“You saw him tonight and recognized him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Jake Mercer has been doing private work for a man named Vittorio Moretti.”
The surname struck harder than the rest.
“Your relative?”
“My uncle.”
I laughed once.
A broken sound.
“Of course.”
Dante remained still.
“My uncle and I no longer share business interests.”
“That sounds like a polite way of saying something ugly.”
“It is.”
My phone rang.
St. Catherine’s appeared on the screen.
I answered immediately.
“Ms. Foster?” a nurse said. “Your mother is safe. Security is with her. A man attempted to enter the treatment area, but he left when staff approached.”
“Was it Jake?”
“We couldn’t identify him. He wore a baseball cap.”
“I’m coming there.”
Dante shook his head.
“No.”
I covered the phone.
“She’s my mother.”
“And someone expects you to run directly to her.”
“I’m not abandoning her.”
“She’s being transferred here.”
“What?”
“I requested an oncology bed.”
“You had no right.”
“I made the request. The hospital will require her permission.”
I looked toward the door.
Two nurses rolled my mother’s medical chart station down the corridor.
Everything around Dante happened quickly.
Efficiently.
That kind of power was seductive.
It was also dangerous.
Jake controlled me through fear.
Dante could control the world around me through solutions.
Both could become cages.
“I decide what happens to my family,” I said.
Dante held my gaze.
“You should.”
“Then stop making decisions without asking.”
A long pause followed.
“You’re right.”
I had expected an argument.
Instead, he removed his phone from his pocket.
“My security team will withdraw from St. Catherine’s if you request it.”
The choice should have relieved me.
But Jake’s photograph remained on my screen.
“Don’t withdraw them.”
Dante waited.
“Please.”
One nod.
Nothing triumphant.
Nothing possessive.
That mattered.
Dr. Chen returned and escorted me to imaging. Two ribs were fractured, though neither had punctured a lung. My blood work showed severe anemia and nutritional deficiencies.
By midnight, I had a treatment plan, pain medication, and a list of shelters.
I also had three missed calls from Marco.
One voicemail.
I listened while Dante stood near the window.
“Emma, this situation is getting out of control. Mr. Moretti’s people questioned my staff. Jake is blaming me. I need you to call and tell everyone this was a misunderstanding. Your position at Marello’s depends on it.”
The message ended.
Dante’s face remained turned toward the city.
“Did you order your people to question the staff?”
“Yes.”
“About me?”
“About Jake.”
“And Marco?”
“Marco called your abuser before calling an ambulance.”
I hadn’t considered that.
“He was my emergency contact.”
“You collapsed in a restaurant. Standard procedure would be emergency services first.”
“Marco hates scandal.”
“No. Marco fears Jake.”
Dante turned.
“Your manager has gambling debts.”
“Marco?”
“Nearly two hundred thousand dollars.”
“That’s impossible.”
“He loses at private tables operated by my uncle.”
Another thread connecting my life to men I had never met.
“Why would Vittorio care about a restaurant manager?”
“He may not. But Marco controls schedules, staff records, security codes, and access to private dining rooms.”
“You think he spies for your uncle?”
“I think desperate men sell whatever is not nailed down.”
My phone rang again.
Marco.
I answered before Dante could stop me.
“Emma,” Marco said. “Thank God. Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“Are you alone?”
I looked at Dante.
“No.”
Marco lowered his voice.
“You need to get away from Moretti.”
“Why?”
“You don’t understand these people.”
“And Jake?”
A pause.
“Jake is upset.”
“He broke my ribs.”
“I’m not excusing that.”
“You’re asking me to protect him.”
“I’m asking you to be smart.”
“For whom?”
Marco breathed heavily.
Then he whispered, “They’ll kill me if you don’t come back.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Dante moved away from the window.
“Call him again.”
“Why?”
“Because I heard fear.”
“He said they would kill him.”
“Did he say who?”
“No.”
Dante’s phone rang.
The man with the burned jaw spoke first when Dante answered.
“Boss, we found the vehicle from St. Catherine’s. Abandoned near Ashland.”
“Driver?”
“Gone.”
“Any identification?”
“A phone in the passenger seat. One outgoing call to Marello’s.”
Dante’s eyes met mine.
“When?”
“Six minutes before Emma collapsed.”
A knock interrupted us.
A nurse entered, pale and breathless.
“Ms. Foster, we received a call about your mother.”
I stood too quickly.
Pain ripped through me.
“What happened?”
“She never arrived for the transfer.”
The room seemed to collapse inward.
“But security was with her.”
“They found the treatment chair empty. Her IV line had been cut.”
My phone lit again.
This time, it was a video call.
Jake’s face appeared.
May you like
Behind him, my mother sat unconscious in the back of a moving van.
“Now,” Jake said, “you’re going to listen.”
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