Chapter 6 - The Traitor Unmasked
By the third day, Leo had recovered enough to be transferred out of the intensive care unit and into a private, high-security recovery suite on the top floor of St. Catherine’s.
The room looked more like a five-star hotel penthouse than a hospital room, complete with Persian rugs, a plush velvet sofa, fresh white lilies, and a wall-mounted entertainment center playing animated movies on a loop.
Leo was sitting propped up against a mountain of pillows, happily eating a bowl of vanilla ice cream while watching Cars, completely fascinated by the fact that the man sitting in the leather armchair across from him—the terrifying mob boss who made grown men shake in their boots—was currently wearing a paper crown Leo had colored with red and blue crayons.
“You look ridiculous, boss,” Calo muttered, standing near the doorway with a stack of encrypted logistical reports.
Dante adjusted the paper crown solemnly, his dark eyes unblinking. “If my son says the king wears red and blue crayons, then the king wears red and blue crayons, Calo. Tread carefully.”
I stood by the window, watching them with a quiet, disbelieving smile stirring in my chest.
For two years, I had pictured Dante Salvatore as an unyielding pillar of ice and violence. Watching him sit patiently on a hospital chair, spoon-feeding chicken broth to a four-year-old boy and listening with absolute gravity as Leo explained the plot of a cartoon, felt like watching an alternate universe unfold.
“Elena,” Dante called out softly, breaking my train of thought.
“Yeah?”
“Dr. Vance cleared him for discharge tomorrow morning,” Dante said, setting the empty soup bowl on the bedside table. “My private estate in Winnetka has been prepped. The medical wing has been installed with backup generators, oxygen feeds, and a full-time pediatric nurse practitioner on rotation.”
I stiffened, the warmth draining from my smile. “Winnetka? Dante, I’m not moving into your fortress.”
“It’s not a fortress, it’s a home,” Dante countered, standing up smoothly and walking toward me. “And you aren't a prisoner, Elena. But you and Leo are not going back to that drafty two-bedroom apartment in Wicker Park where you have to dodge snow leaks and rely on public transit. Winnetka is secure, it has five acres of private gardens, and most importantly, it’s where my family belongs.”
“Your family?” I crossed my arms, looking up at him with a stubborn tilt of my chin. “Dante, let’s get one thing straight. You and I are not married anymore. You threw me out, remember? Legally, emotionally, and every other way, that chapter is closed.”
“The divorce papers were never filed,” Dante said smoothly, stopping just inches away from me.
My breath caught. “What?”
“Marcus Vance told me you signed them and filed them through his office,” Dante said, his dark eyes burning into mine. “Turns out, Vance filed a legal separation agreement instead, keeping our marriage intact on paper while quietly positioning my corporate assets under his control. Legally, Elena Salvatore, you are still my wife.”
“That is a technicality and you know it!” I hissed, my face flushing hot. “You can’t just trap me—”
“I’m not trapping you,” Dante interrupted, his voice dropping into that quiet, commanding register that brooked no argument. “I am offering you a choice. You can take Leo and go back to your apartment, and I will station thirty armed guards outside your door twenty-four hours a day until every rival syndicate in the Midwest realizes my heir is breathing public air. Or... you can come home with me, where I can protect you both properly.”
Before I could answer, Leo’s piping voice cut through the room.
“Mommy, can we go to the big house with the pool?” Leo asked, looking up from his tablet with wide, hopeful eyes. “Papa said there’s a treehouse in the backyard.”
I closed my eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh. I was outmaneuvered. Between a four-year-old who had just fallen hopelessly in love with his father and a mafia boss who held all the cards, I didn't stand a chance.
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“Fine,” I muttered, glaring at Dante. “Winnetka. But I’m sleeping in the guest wing.”
A slow, victorious smile touched the corner of Dante’s mouth. “We’ll see about that.”
