Chapter 9 - The gilded deception
The tension in the command room was palpable. Dante gave the order to bring the woman inside, but under heavy guard. Emma stood behind Dante’s broad shoulders, holding Sophia close. The heavy oak doors swung open, and two enforcers escorted a woman into the room.
It was Clara. She looked older, her face hardened by years in the criminal underground. She wore a sharp, tailored gray suit, entirely composed despite being surrounded by armed men. Her eyes immediately found Emma, ignoring the terrifying mafia boss completely.
"You didn't answer my text, little sister," Clara said, her American accent smooth and calculating.
"You betrayed Elena," Emma choked out, tears of anger in her eyes. "You sold her out to the commission, and you left me with thousands in debt while you played games with the mob."
Clara sighed, an elegant, dismissive sound. "Elena was weak. She thought she could hide the Russian heir in a Manhattan penthouse. I did what I had to do to survive. And now, Dante, the game is over."
Clara pulled a heavy, sealed document from her jacket and tossed it onto the mahogany table. "Those are the verified genetic documents proving Sophia is the direct descendant of the Russian syndicate boss. The summit is a formality. The high commission has already signed the custody transfer. Hand her over, Dante, and you get to keep your empire."
Dante didn't even look at the documents. His dark eyes remained fixed on Clara, his sharp jawline completely relaxed in a display of frightening confidence.
"You made a critical error, Clara," Dante said, his voice a low, lethal purr. "You assumed I cared about the empire more than I care about my daughter."
Clara laughed dryly. "She isn't your daughter."
"Blood doesn't make a father," Dante replied, stepping closer to Clara until his immense presence forced her to look away. "I raised her. I protected her. She carries the Russo name. And I do not negotiate with traitors."
Dante turned to his guards. "Lock her in the holding cells. We are going to the summit. And we are bringing Clara as our gift to the commission."
The summit was held in a massive, abandoned cathedral in the heart of the city, a truly neutral ground. The stained glass windows cast eerie, cinematic shadows over the polished stone floor. Dozens of mob bosses, elders, and enforcers stood in a massive circle. In the center stood the head of the high commission, flanked by the ruthless Russian syndicate boss.
Dante walked down the long aisle of the cathedral. He wore a brand-new, impeccably tailored black three-piece suit. Beside him walked Emma, wearing a simple, elegant black dress, holding Sophia’s hand. Two of Dante’s massive enforcers dragged Clara behind them.
The Russian boss stepped forward, his eyes greedy as he looked at the terrified five-year-old girl. "You bring me my blood, Dante. You have made a wise choice."
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"I brought you nothing," Dante's voice echoed through the massive cathedral, silencing the entire room. "I brought the commission a traitor who lied to both of our families."
Dante shoved Clara forward. The atmosphere in the cathedral shifted violently. The ultimate truth was about to be laid bare on the cold stone floor, and Emma held Sophia tightly, knowing the next few minutes would decide all of their fates.
