Chapter 8 - The Man We Trusted Most Sold Us OutDominic refused to believe Marco betrayed him.
I understood.
Marco had served his family for eighteen years.
He had protected Dominic through shootings, arrests, funerals and wars.
But facts did not care about loyalty.
Marco disappeared.
The servers were wiped.
Someone had opened the estate’s secure vault using his credentials.
Gabriel wanted him hunted.
Dominic wanted proof.
I wanted sleep.
Instead, at three in the morning, I sat with Elena Unaretti.
My supposedly dead mother-in-law.
Life had become absurd.
She was elegant even after kidnapping.
Silver hair.
Dark eyes identical to her sons.
“You’re not what I expected,” she told me.
“What did you expect?”
“Isabella.”
“That makes two of us.”
She smiled.
“Dominic cares about you.”
“He barely knows me.”
“That has never stopped the heart from being inconvenient.”
I liked her immediately.
“Was he always like this?”
“Controlling?”
“Terrifying.”
“Since kindergarten.”
I laughed.
She reached across the table.
“Be patient with him.”
“I’m not very patient.”
“Good. He has enough patient people.”
Then her expression became serious.
“Marco did not betray Dominic.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Marco is my godson.”
I blinked.
“He knows you’re alive?”
“He helped Gabriel hide me.”
That changed everything.
“Then why disappear?”
“To protect something.”
“What?”
She looked toward the doorway.
“You.”
Marco had discovered someone inside Dominic’s security team planned to abduct me.
He wiped the servers so the conspirators could not access my movements.
Then he deliberately disappeared to draw them away.
We found his message hidden inside an old security archive.
DON’T TRUST CARLO.
Carlo Benedetti.
The man who first called me in São Paulo.
The man who knew everything about my debts.
The man who had brought me into this nightmare.
Dominic summoned Carlo.
He never arrived.
Instead, we received a video.
Marco sat tied to a chair.
Carlo stood behind him.
Antonio appeared beside him.
My father smiled into the camera.
“Bring Deanna to me, or Marco dies.”
Dominic threw a glass against the wall.
I stared at the broken pieces.
“Now I understand where the dramatic glass breaking comes from.”
He looked at me.
“This isn’t funny.”
“No. But if I don’t joke, I might scream.”
His anger softened.
He walked over.
“Come here.”
It was not an order.
I went.
His arms closed around me.
This had become our language.
When words failed, we held each other.
“I’m not letting you go to him.”
“We don’t have to.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Carlo knows my father’s network.”
“Yes.”
“He also thinks I’m still the poor frightened girl he called in Brazil.”
Dominic looked suspicious.
“I know that expression.”
“What expression?”
“The one you make before doing something dangerous.”
“You’ve known me a week.”
“It has been a very long week.”
We created a trap.
I called Carlo.
“I’ll come.”
Dominic stood beside me, furious but silent.
“Alone,” Carlo demanded.
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“So are you.”
Silence.
Then I said, “My father doesn’t intend to pay you.”
Carlo laughed.
“You know nothing.”
“I know he killed Isabella after she became inconvenient.”
That stopped him.
“You think you’ll be different?”
More silence.
I continued.
“He’ll kill you after this. You know too much.”
“What do you want?”
“Marco alive.”
“And?”
“My father.”
Carlo’s voice lowered.
“You’d betray your own blood?”
“My father taught me blood means nothing.”
We met in a parking structure.
Carlo came alone.
So did I.
Technically.
Dominic’s men were everywhere.
Carlo gave me Marco’s location.
I gave him something better than money.
A way out.
Federal protection in exchange for testimony.
Dominic hated involving law enforcement.
Gabriel convinced him.
“This isn’t about business anymore,” Gabriel said. “It’s about ending Antonio.”
Marco was rescued that night.
Beaten.
Two broken ribs.
Alive.
When Dominic saw him, neither man spoke.
Then Dominic hugged him.
Marco looked embarrassed.
“Boss.”
“Shut up.”
I smiled.
The federal case moved quickly once Carlo talked.
But Antonio disappeared.
His accounts emptied.
His properties abandoned.
For six weeks, nothing happened.
And in those six weeks, Dominic and I accidentally built a marriage.
We ate breakfast together.
Argued over music.
He discovered I sang terribly while cooking.
I discovered he secretly watched old Western movies.
He bought me a laptop so I could restart the translation work I had done in Brazil.
I enrolled in business courses online.
My mother continued improving.
Elena moved into a nearby house.
Gabriel became the irritating brother-in-law I never knew I needed.
Life became almost normal.
Almost.
One evening, I found Dominic in the garden.
“Six weeks,” I said.
“He’ll surface.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I don’t like unfinished business.”
I stood beside him.
“Neither do I.”
He looked at me.
There was no danger between us now.
Only the terrifying possibility of happiness.
“Deanna.”
“Yes?”
“I owe you an apology.”
“For which thing? We should probably alphabetize.”
His mouth twitched.
“For how this began.”
I became quiet.
“I threatened you.”
“Yes.”
“I used your mother.”
“Yes.”
“I treated you like an obligation.”
“Yes.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
He took my hand.
“If I could begin again, I would.”
“How?”
“I would meet you somewhere that had nothing to do with our families.”
“Where?”
“A café.”
“In São Paulo?”
“Yes.”
“You’d hate the heat.”
“I’d survive.”
“And then?”
“I’d ask you to dinner.”
“I’d say no.”
“I’d ask again.”
“I’d definitely say no.”
He smiled.
“Eventually?”
I looked at him.
“Eventually, maybe.”
He brought my hand to his mouth.
“Then let me ask now.”
“Ask what?”
“Stay.”
The word hit harder than any declaration.
Not obey.
Not belong.
Stay.
Choice.
“I’m already here.”
“No. Stay because you want to.”
I touched his cheek.
“I do.”
Then I kissed my husband.
For the first time, without fear.
That night, my father finally surfaced.
May you like
He was in São Paulo.
And he had taken my mother.
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