Chapter 4: The Man Behind the Door
The door opened another inch.
Dante didn't move.
Neither did Marcus.
The ballroom lights spilled across the hallway, revealing a black dress shoe first. Then a hand. Then the edge of a dark suit.
A man stepped inside.
Elena's breath caught.
Victoria stumbled backward.
Dante stared at the stranger's face.
For three years, he had carried the memory of his brother like a wound that never closed.
The man standing in front of him had Anthony's eyes.
Anthony's mouth.
Anthony's scar above his left eyebrow.
But he was thinner.
Older.
And very much alive.
Dante whispered, “Anthony.””
Anthony smiled.
“Hello, little brother.””
Marcus immediately raised his weapon.
Anthony lifted both hands.
“Easy.””
Dante didn't look away from him.
“Lower it, Marcus.””
“Boss—”
“I said lower it.””
Marcus obeyed, but barely.
Anthony looked around the ballroom.
Crystal chandeliers.
White flowers.
The champagne tower.
The engagement table.
Then his eyes settled on Victoria.
She looked like she might collapse.
Anthony nodded toward her.
“She never told you?””
Dante's jaw tightened.
“Told me what?””
Anthony smiled without warmth.
“That she watched me die.””
Victoria shook her head.
“No.””
Anthony looked at her.
“You were there.””
“I didn't know what they were going to do.””
“You knew enough to run.””
Dante turned toward Victoria.
“What is he talking about?””
She stared at Anthony.
“Dante, please.””
Anthony laughed quietly.
“There it is again.””
“What?””
“That word.””
He stepped closer.
“Please.””
Anthony pointed at the glass of lemon water.
“You used it the first time too.””
Dante's eyes narrowed.
“The first time?””
Anthony nodded.
“Three years ago.””
The room seemed to tilt.
Dante remembered the night.
A phone call.
A car found abandoned near the river.
Blood on the driver's seat.
Anthony's watch recovered from the wreckage.
No body.
No funeral.
Just an empty grave.
Dante had spent years believing the worst.
Now his brother stood ten feet away.
Alive.
Dante's voice dropped.
“Why did you let me believe you were dead?””
Anthony's smile vanished.
“Because the people who wanted me dead were watching you.””
Dante glanced at Marcus.
“Who?””
Anthony looked at Victoria.
“She knows.””
Victoria shook her head violently.
“I don't know everything.””
“You know enough.””
Dante stepped between them.
“Start talking.””
Victoria's tears fell.
“I met Anthony because he came to me.””
“When?””
“Three weeks ago.””
“Why?””
“He said someone inside your organization was planning to kill you.””
Anthony nodded.
“He was.””
Dante looked at him.
“Who?””
Anthony reached inside his jacket.
Marcus raised his weapon again.
Anthony slowly removed a folded photograph.
He held it between two fingers.
“This.””
Dante took it.
The photograph showed a parking garage.
Anthony stood beside a black SUV.
And beside him—
Dante.
Same face.
Same scar.
Same black suit.
But Dante knew the photograph was impossible.
He had never been there.
Anthony watched him study it.
“Recognize the date?””
Dante turned it over.
A date was written on the back.
Three years earlier.
The night Anthony supposedly died.
Dante looked up.
“I wasn't there.””
Anthony's expression hardened.
“I know.””
Victoria whispered, “That's what scared me.””
Dante looked at her.
“What scared you?””
She pointed toward the photograph.
“The man standing beside Anthony.””
Dante looked again.
His stomach tightened.
The image was grainy.
But the man's posture was unmistakable.
The same shoulders.
The same haircut.
The same beard.
He looked exactly like Dante.
Anthony spoke quietly.
“Someone has been using your face.””
Dante stared at him.
“For what?””
“To build an empire.””
A phone suddenly rang.
Not Dante's.
Not Marcus's.
Victoria's.
She pulled it from her purse.
Her face drained of color when she saw the screen.
Anthony noticed.
“Answer it.””
Victoria shook her head.
“No.””
Anthony's voice hardened.
“Answer it.””
She pressed the screen.
“Hello?””
A man's voice came through.
“Is Dante still alive?””
Victoria froze.
Dante heard every word.
The caller continued.
“Because if he is, Anthony shouldn't be.””
The line went dead.
Dante slowly looked at his brother.
Anthony's expression had changed.
May you like
“Get down.””
The ballroom windows exploded inward.
