Chapter 1 - THE WAITRESS WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Rain ran down Dante Moretti’s face as he stared at me.
Around us, armed men stood motionless on the mountain road.
I could still hear his car crashing somewhere far below.
Dante’s hand remained locked around my wrist.
“How did you know my brakes were going to fail?”
There was no safe answer.
If I told him the truth, I accused his wife of trying to murder him.
If I lied, he would know.
Men like Dante Moretti did not survive to thirty-eight by trusting frightened waitresses.
“I heard them,” I whispered.
His eyes narrowed.
“Heard who?”
“Your wife.”
Something shifted behind his expression.
Not shock.
Something colder.
One of the men stepped closer. He was tall, broad-shouldered, maybe forty, with a scar running from his temple to his jaw.
“Boss, you're bleeding. We need to move.”
Dante ignored him.
“Who was she with?”
“I don't know his name.”
“You saw him?”
“Not clearly. Dark hair. Navy suit. Expensive watch.”
The scarred man looked at Dante.
Dante's voice remained quiet.
“What exactly did Vanessa say?”
My teeth were chattering.
“She asked if the brakes were handled.”
“And?”
“He said they'd fail on the mountain road.”
No one spoke.
“She said that by midnight she'd be a grieving widow.”
The scarred man cursed.
Dante released my wrist.
For one terrible second, I thought he didn't believe me.
Then he said, “Marco.”
The scarred man straightened.
“Yeah?”
“Lock down the restaurant.”
Marco immediately pulled out his phone.
“No one leaves. Employees, customers, valet drivers, kitchen staff. Everyone.”
I stared at Dante.
“There were innocent people there.”
His gray eyes came back to me.
“So was I.”
The words chilled me.
Headlights appeared around the bend.
An ambulance.
Police.
Dante looked toward them, then at Marco.
“You know what to do.”
Marco nodded.
Two of Dante's men disappeared into the darkness before the police could see them.
That was the moment I understood something.
Saving Dante Moretti had not brought me into the world I had spent my entire life avoiding.
It had trapped me inside it.
A paramedic climbed down toward us.
Dante refused the stretcher until they examined me first.
“I’m fine,” I protested.
“You're bleeding.”
“So are you.”
His mouth almost moved.
Almost.
“I'm used to it.”
I wasn't sure whether he was joking.
At the hospital, everything happened too quickly.
Doctors treated Dante behind guarded doors.
Police questioned me three separate times.
I told them I had seen his car lose control.
I did not tell them about Vanessa.
I didn't need Dante warning me.
I understood.
If Vanessa Moretti had arranged her husband's murder, accusing her before Dante had proof would put a target on my back.
At three in the morning, a detective finally released me.
I stepped into the hallway.
Marco was waiting.
His jacket was gone.
The white shirt underneath showed a gun holster.
“You're coming with me.”
My stomach tightened.
“I have an apartment.”
“Not anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Mrs. Moretti knows someone warned her husband.”
My blood went cold.
“How?”
“Because the restaurant was searched.”
I stared at him.
“I didn't tell anyone.”
“You ran out halfway through your shift. You followed Dante. You were found beside him after the crash.”
Marco gave me a humorless smile.
“It won't take Vanessa long.”
I stepped backward.
“I should go to the police.”
“You can.”
He leaned against the wall.
“But before you do, understand something.”
His voice softened.
“Vanessa Moretti isn't some jealous wife who panicked and hired a man to cut brake lines.”
“What is she?”
Marco looked toward Dante's hospital room.
“We don't know yet.”
That answer frightened me more.
The door opened.
A doctor emerged.
“He's asking for Miss Fields.”
Marco nodded at me.
Inside, Dante sat upright in bed despite the stitches near his temple and the bandage around his ribs.
His expression gave away nothing.
“You should be sleeping,” I said.
“So should you.”
“I would be if your employee would stop threatening to kidnap me.”
Marco closed the door behind us.
“I didn't threaten.”
“You said I couldn't go home.”
“That's not kidnapping.”
Dante looked between us.
“Enough.”
Marco fell silent immediately.
Dante motioned to a chair.
I stayed standing.
“I'll stand.”
“You don't trust me.”
“You're a mafia boss.”
Marco coughed.
Dante looked almost amused.
“At least she's direct.”
Then his face became serious again.
“Cara, I need you to describe the man with Vanessa.”
I did.
Height.
Hair.
Suit.
Watch.
Voice.
A small tattoo I had noticed behind his left ear when he turned.
Marco's expression changed.
“What?”
Dante noticed it too.
“You recognize that?”
Marco hesitated.
“A black crown?”
“Yes,” I said.
The room became strangely quiet.
Dante lowered his eyes.
“Rinaldi.”
Marco nodded.
I looked between them.
“Who is Rinaldi?”
Dante answered.
“A family that has been trying to take everything my father built for twenty years.”
My throat tightened.
“And Vanessa is working with them?”
“That,” Dante said, “is what we're going to find out.”
“We?”
His eyes lifted.
“You are the only witness.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, I saved you. That was my involvement.”
“You heard Vanessa.”
“I didn't ask to.”
“You saw the man.”
“I didn't ask to do that either.”
“You followed me onto a mountain road.”
“Because you were about to die.”
Dante studied me for several seconds.
Then he asked a question I wasn't expecting.
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why did you follow me?”
“Because you were going to die.”
“You knew who I was.”
“Yes.”
“You knew what I was.”
“I'd heard rumors.”
“Yet you still came.”
I stared at him.
“Was I supposed to let your wife murder you because newspapers say you're dangerous?”
“No.”
His voice became quieter.
“But most people would have.”
Something in the way he said it made me stop arguing.
Dante reached toward the bedside table and picked up his phone.
My own phone rang seconds later.
I frowned.
Unknown number.
“Answer it.”
I did.
“Hello?”
My landlord was crying.
“Cara?”
I stood straighter.
“Mrs. Ellis?”
“Oh, thank God.”
“What happened?”
“Your apartment.”
My chest tightened.
“What about it?”
“Someone broke in.”
Dante's expression hardened.
My landlord continued.
“Everything's destroyed. Your door was kicked open. Drawers emptied. Furniture smashed.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Did they take anything?”
“I don't know. Police are here.”
Then she whispered,
“Cara, somebody wrote something on your wall.”
My fingers turned numb.
“What?”
She hesitated.
“In red paint.”
I looked at Dante.
“What did they write?”
Her voice broke.
WITNESSES DIE TOO.
The line went silent.
I slowly lowered the phone.
Dante was already getting out of bed.
The doctor had ordered him not to stand.
He didn't care.
Marco moved toward him.
“Boss—”
“Get the car.”
Marco nodded.
Dante looked at me.
I could barely speak.
“They found me already.”
“Yes.”
“They know I heard Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“Then I need to disappear.”
“You will.”
Something in his tone made me look up.
“Where?”
“With me.”
I laughed because the alternative was screaming.
“Absolutely not.”
“Cara.”
“I watched your car go over a cliff tonight. People are shooting at each other because of you. Someone destroyed my apartment.”
“Which is exactly why you can't go back there.”
“I can get a hotel.”
“They'll find you.”
“The police—”
“Were probably notified about your apartment before my men were.”
“That sounds useful.”
“It means whoever did it wanted the police report created.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“To establish that you're frightened.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
Dante's face changed.
“It will if you disappear next.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Marco returned.
“Cars are ready.”
Dante reached for his coat.
“You're staying at my estate.”
“I don't want to.”
“I know.”
“For how long?”
“Until I know who tried to kill me.”
“And then?”
His eyes met mine.
“Then you get your life back.”
I wanted to believe him.
I wanted my tiny apartment, my unpaid electric bill, my terrible mattress, my normal life.
Instead, forty minutes later, I sat inside the back of an armored SUV beside the most feared man on the East Coast.
Black vehicles surrounded us.
The city lights disappeared.
I watched Dante from the corner of my eye.
He was pale from blood loss, but he showed no weakness.
“You really think Vanessa is working with this Rinaldi family?”
“I don't think anything yet.”
“She tried to kill you.”
“Maybe.”
I turned toward him.
“Maybe?”
“Never assume the first answer is the correct one.”
“Your brake lines were cut.”
“Yes.”
“I heard her discuss it.”
“Yes.”
“She said she'd be your widow.”
“Yes.”
“That feels pretty conclusive.”
Dante looked out the window.
“Vanessa has been my wife for seven years.”
I hesitated.
“Do you love her?”
His jaw tightened.
“That has nothing to do with this.”
Which was an answer.
The Moretti estate appeared behind iron gates twenty minutes later.
It wasn't a house.
It was a fortress.
Stone walls.
Security towers.
Cameras.
Armed guards.
The gates opened.
We drove through.
I expected Vanessa to be there.
She wasn't.
Dante noticed immediately.
Marco checked his phone.
“Her driver says she left Bellini's eleven minutes after you did.”
“Destination?”
“Unknown.”
Dante's expression darkened.
We entered the mansion through a guarded side entrance.
A woman named Elena showed me upstairs.
“You'll be in the east guest wing.”
“This has guest wings?”
She gave me a tired smile.
“Mr. Moretti has a lot of enemies.”
Apparently.
I was given clothes, towels, food.
I couldn't touch any of it.
At nearly dawn, I opened my bedroom door.
A man stood outside.
He wore a black suit.
“I'm supposed to stay here?”
“Yes, Miss Fields.”
“Am I being protected or imprisoned?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Protected.”
“Can I leave?”
“No.”
“Imprisoned, then.”
I closed the door.
Five minutes later, I heard shouting downstairs.
I stepped back into the hall.
My guard tried to stop me.
“Miss Fields—”
A woman's voice echoed from below.
“Where is my husband?”
Vanessa.
I froze.
She had come home.
I moved toward the balcony overlooking the entrance hall.
Vanessa stood beneath a crystal chandelier wearing a cream-colored coat.
Perfect makeup.
Perfect hair.
Perfect posture.
She looked nothing like a woman whose husband had nearly died.
Dante stood across from her.
“You're alive,” she whispered.
He smiled.
Barely.
“Disappointed?”
Vanessa stared at him.
Then she crossed the room and slapped him.
The sound cracked through the mansion.
I almost gasped.
“You vanished!” she shouted. “Your car went over a cliff. No one would tell me if you were alive!”
She grabbed his jacket.
“I thought you were dead.”
Her voice broke.
Real tears appeared in her eyes.
For one terrifying moment, I wondered if I had misunderstood everything.
Then Dante asked,
“Where were you tonight?”
“At Bellini's.”
“With whom?”
She stopped.
Dante watched her.
Vanessa slowly released his jacket.
“What are you accusing me of?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are your men looking at me like that?”
“No reason.”
Her eyes moved past him.
Upward.
To me.
Our gazes met across the enormous room.
Her face went completely still.
Dante followed her eyes.
For three seconds, no one moved.
Then Vanessa whispered,
“The waitress.”
My heart slammed.
Dante said nothing.
Vanessa looked from him to me.
And smiled.
It was the same soft smile I had heard in her voice behind the restaurant partition.
May you like
“Well,” she said.
“I wondered where she had gone.”
