Chapter 41- Separation
Dante Silence had become an enemy.
I stood at my office window, watching city lights blur through rain that matched my dark mood. Three days since the safe house attack. Three days of not knowing if she was-
No. I couldn’t finish that thought.
“Still no contact.” Marco reported from the doorway, his usual precision weighted with exhaustion. “But the security footage confirms she took down four of them before-” He stopped, reading something in my stance. “We’ll find her.”
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t trust my voice not to betray how her absence felt like missing limb, like oxygen suddenly scarce.
My phone sat silent on the desk, mocking me with its lack of her usual messages. No sharp observations about security protocols. No updates about my sisters‘ safety. No quick–witted responses that matched my thoughts before I could voice them.
Nothing.
“The sisters?” I managed finally, needing to focus on practical matters before emotion cracked my careful control
“Safe. Secondary location.” Marco moved closer, tablet in hand. “Julia’s doctor confirmed no harm from the stress. Sofia’s handling press coverage- some story about a spontaneous sister retreat. And Maria..”
“Is probably planning vengeance, I finished, remembering how the youngest Romano’s sweet exterior hid steel Like someone else I knew.
The thought sent fresh pain through my chest.
“Taylor’s team is coordinating with Valentini forces, Marco continued, professional mask hiding whatever he thought about that unprecedented
alliance. “Your wife’s brothers are…. motivated.”
“Your wife ”
The words echoed oddly, reminding me how our careful arrangement had become something else entirely. Something I wasn’t ready to name.
My phone buzzed, shattering the silence. Unknown number.
“Trace it,” I barked at Marco even as I answered, heart racing with possibilities.
“Now is that any way to greet your wife’s kidnapper?” The voice carried artificial pleasantness, badly masking Eastern European accent. Amateur. Dangerous. “Though perhaps wife is too strong a word, given the contract terms?”
Ice formed in my veins. They knew about the arrangement.
“If you’ve harmed her-”
“She’s perfectly safe.” A pause heavy with threat. “For now. Though I must say, she’s proven.. challenging to contain. Took out six of my men before we managed to sedate her. Quite the fighter, your political arrangement.”
Pride warred with fury in my chest. Of course she’d fought. My clever, dangerous, impossible
No. Focus.
“What do you want?” I kept my voice cold, controlled, even as my free hand clenched hard enough to whiten knuckles.
“Simple enough. The harbor development plans. All of them. Including the parts you’ve kept off official records.”
Understanding hit like a physical blow. This wasn’t just about territory or family pride Someone had learned what we’d hidden beneath legitimate business – the real reason that harbor project mattered so much.
“You have one hour to consider,” the voice continued. “I’ll call back with delivery instructions. And Mr. Romano?” False pleasantness dropped, revealing steel. “Don’t bother tracing this call. Your wife’s location changes every time she shows that… fighting spirit.”
The line went dead.
Silence crashed back, broken only by the sound of my breathing – too fast, too rough. Marco waited, reading the tension in my shoulders.
“Get me everything on the harbor project. Every file, every plan, every detail we’ve kept hidden.” My voice carried edges that made him step back slightly. “And find out who talked. Someone gave them information about the contract marriage. About the project’s true purpose.”
“You’re not considering actually giving them—”
“Of course not.” Itumed from the window, decision crystallizing in sharp clarity. “But we’re going to make them think we are. While we find my wife and burn their whole operation to the ground”
“She’s alive “The words came out like a growl. “To know if…” I couldn’t finish.
Marco studied my face for a long moment. “You really love her, don’t you?”
The question hit like a bullet, shartering what remained of my control. Because somewhere between contract and cluos, between political arrangement and true partnership, between her sharp wit and fierce loyalty and impossible strength…
“Find her,” I uld instead of answering. “Whatever it takes”
10002
Chapter 11–Separation
He nodded once, understanding everything I couldn’t say.
Alone again, I moved to my desk where a small box held evidence of how much had changed. The flash drive she’d given me after the gallery confrontation with her ex. The security plans she’d marked with precise notes in her elegant hand. The photo Taylor had captured of her teaching Maria self defense moves, both laughing despite the serious subject.
My clever, dangerous, essential-
The phone buzzed again. Different unknown number.
“Missing me, carol”
Her voice. Tired, rough, but alive. So alive.
“Lucia.” Her name came out like a prayer. “Are you-
“Limited time,” she cut in, all business despite what had to be injury or sedation. “Three locations. They’re moving me between them on rotation. I’ve mapped the patterns, but timing is crucial. North warehouse district, abandoned church in Little Italy, and
Sound of struggle. A muffled curse in what sounded like Rumin
“Clever girl” a new voice growled. “But not clever enough.”
The line went dead again.
But I was already moving, mind racing with implications. She’d given me three locations. Two real, one false–knowing they’d assume the false one was real because she’d been intermapted before revealing it.
My brilliant, strategic wife had just handed me exactly what we needed.
“Marco!” I barked into the intercom. “Get me satellite views of the warehouse district and Little Italy. Now.”
Because I knew her now. Knew how her mind worked, how she thought ten steps ahead even in crisis.
“Hold on cara. I’m coming.”
The thought came unbidden, heavy with emotion I still couldn’t name. Wouldn’t name.
Not until I could say it to her face.
The rain kept falling outside, but it no longer felt like grief. Now it felt like promise. Like preparation for the storm I was about to unleash on anyone who dared touch what was mine.
My phone buzzed one final time. A text from an unknown number
“Tick rock. Mr. Romano. One hour until your wife learns exactly how political this marriage really is.”
I smiled, and there was nothing pleasant in it.
They had no idea what they’d started.
Or who they were really dealing with
Because this had stopped being political the moment she’d stepped between danger and my sisters. The moment she’d become essential. The moment she’d turned our careful arrangement into something dangerous and real and impossible to ignore.
“Sir?” Marco reappeared, tablet in hand. “Satellite feeds are ready.”
Istraightened, shrugging off emotion in favor of cold purpose.
Time to remind everyone exactly why the Romano name carried weight in this city.
And exactly what happened to anyone who threatened what was mine.
10:06.
