Chapter 6 - Orion’s CollarDante did not sleep.
Olivia knew because neither did she.
At four in the morning, they were still in Dante’s townhouse, surrounded by documents.
Orion slept between them.
“My father trusted Matteo?” Olivia asked.
Dante stared into cold coffee.
“They were close.”
“You never mentioned that.”
“I didn’t know it mattered.”
“Everything matters now.”
Dante looked at her.
She was right.
His father.
Her father.
Matteo.
Carlo.
Eighteen million dollars.
Fourteen percent of a company.
One dead man blamed for everything.
Another dead man whose badge had appeared where it should not have.
Olivia rubbed her eyes.
“What happened to Matteo?”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“He died in a boating accident.”
She waited.
He smiled without humor.
“You’re learning.”
“Learning what?”
“Not to believe the first version.”
“Was it really an accident?”
“I thought so.”
“Until now.”
“Yes.”
Orion shifted and rolled onto his side.
His collar caught the light.
Olivia noticed the worn leather beneath the newer buckle.
“Has he always had that?”
Dante looked down.
“That collar?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel bought it.”
Olivia touched the leather.
Inside, faintly stamped, were two letters.
D.M.
She smiled sadly.
“Dad labeled everything.”
Dante watched her.
“You loved him.”
“Of course I did.”
“You also barely saw him in the last few years.”
Olivia looked up sharply.
“How do you know that?”
“His file.”
“You really did read everything.”
“Yes.”
She sat back.
“My parents separated when I was seventeen. Dad worked constantly. Mom hated whatever he was becoming.”
“What did she think he was becoming?”
“Secretive.”
Olivia looked toward Orion.
“I thought he chose work over us.”
Dante said nothing.
“That’s the worst part.”
“What?”
“I spent years angry at a dead man.”
Dante’s voice was quiet.
“So did I.”
Their eyes met.
For once, there was no power between them.
Only regret.
Olivia looked away first.
“Why Orion?”
Dante almost smiled.
“Daniel said a dog that dramatic needed a name from mythology.”
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like him.”
“He once argued with me for twenty minutes because I wanted to call him Nero.”
Olivia laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
Orion lifted his head.
Dante looked at her.
“You should laugh more.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Become charming.”
“I’m not.”
“That would be the problem.”
A silence followed.
Not uncomfortable.
Dangerous in an entirely different way.
Olivia stood.
“I need air.”
Dante followed her onto the terrace.
Manhattan glittered below.
“You could resign from the trust,” he said.
“Carlo would love that.”
“So would I.”
She turned.
“Why?”
“Because then you would be less useful to him.”
“And to you.”
“Yes.”
The honesty unsettled her.
“You need my vote.”
“I do.”
“But you’d rather lose it?”
“If it gets you out.”
Olivia studied him.
“That’s almost noble.”
“Don’t insult me.”
She smiled.
Then Rocco opened the terrace door.
“Boss.”
Dante turned.
“We found something in Daniel’s old phone records.”
Rocco handed him a printout.
Daniel had called Matteo Moretti eleven times during the month before the warehouse fire.
The final call lasted twenty-three minutes.
The night Daniel died.
Olivia looked at Dante.
“What did they talk about?”
“We don’t know.”
Rocco said, “There’s more.”
He produced an old voicemail transcript recovered from a service archive.
Matteo had left Daniel a message.
Daniel, do not come to the warehouse. Carlo knows. Dante thinks you took the money. I’m trying to reach him before this gets worse.
Dante read it twice.
His face emptied.
Olivia whispered, “Matteo tried to warn him.”
“Yes.”
“Did he call you?”
Dante closed his eyes.
“My phone was off.”
“Why?”
“I was in a meeting.”
“At two in the morning?”
Dante opened his eyes.
“With Carlo.”
The realization settled between them.
Carlo had kept Dante occupied.
Matteo had tried to warn Daniel.
Daniel had gone to the warehouse anyway.
Olivia felt cold.
“Your uncle arranged the whole thing.”
Dante said nothing.
Rocco’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His face hardened.
“What?”
“Someone accessed Moretti Hospitality’s shareholder portal.”
Dante took the phone.
“From where?”
“An internal login.”
“Whose?”
Rocco hesitated.
“Samuel’s.”
Olivia turned.
Samuel Greer had guarded the bank.
The club.
The archives.
He knew every place they had gone.
Dante’s expression became terrifyingly calm.
“Find him.”
Rocco called.
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Then Olivia’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
Samuel’s voice came through.
“Miss Marshall.”
Dante heard it.
Olivia froze.
May you like
Samuel continued.
“If you want the original copy of your father’s final recording, come alone.”
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