Chapter 15 - The Child Chosen by DeathMatteo was still at the estate.
Dante ran.
I followed.
Nothing mattered except reaching him.
The estate was surrounded by police.
Two of Dante's guards were down.
The gates stood open.
Dante's voice became a roar.
“MATTEO!”
No answer.
We searched room by room.
Nothing.
Then I heard something.
A toy car.
Engine noises.
Soft.
Three little sounds.
“Vroom.”
I followed them.
Downstairs.
A hidden door stood open.
Behind it was a tunnel.
Dante grabbed a flashlight.
“We move together.”
We entered.
The tunnel smelled of earth.
At the end was a basement.
Matteo sat in a chair.
Alive.
Unharmed.
A man stood behind him.
My father.
He smiled.
“Hello, Elena.”
Dante aimed.
“Let my son go.”
My father laughed.
“Still protecting everyone except yourself.”
He looked at me.
“You've become exactly what I feared.”
“What?”
“Someone worth killing.”
Dante stepped forward.
“Why did you erase her memory?”
“To protect her.”
“From what?”
“From the truth.”
I shouted:
“What truth?”
My father looked at me.
“You weren't born an outsider.”
I stared.
“You were born into this world.”
He continued.
“Your mother was an accountant for the Morettis.”
“What?”
“She discovered the money laundering.”
“She tried to expose them.”
“Yes.”
“And me?”
“You were the leverage.”
My stomach twisted.
“My mother gave you to them?”
“No.”
“She hid you.”
My father looked toward Matteo.
“Until Dante's father found out.”
I looked at Dante.
His expression had gone pale.
“My family destroyed yours.”
My father smiled.
“And your mother blamed me.”
“Why?”
“Because I chose money.”
Silence.
Then Matteo whispered:
“I don't like him.”
My father laughed.
“Smart boy.”
Dante moved.
My father fired.
The bullet struck Dante's shoulder.
He staggered.
I screamed.
“Dante!”
Matteo cried.
My father grabbed him.
“Now we finish this.”
He pointed the gun at Matteo.
I stepped forward.
“Take me instead.”
Dante grabbed my wrist.
“No.”
My father smiled.
“Exactly.”
He looked at me.
“That's why you were chosen.”
“You wanted me to save him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I need Dante to choose.”
“Choose what?”
My father looked at him.
“His empire…”
Then at me.
“Or you.”
Dante stared.
“I already chose.”
My father frowned.
Dante stepped forward despite the blood soaking his shirt.
“You.”
He looked at me.
“Every time.”
My father raised the gun.
Then Luca appeared.
A shot rang out.
My father fell.
But before he hit the floor, he smiled.
“Too late.”
A small beeping sound filled the basement.
May you like
Dante's eyes widened.
“Bomb.”
