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Chapter 5 - The Ballroom Trap

Three days later, Toby was recovering.

Greg had turned over the recordings.

And Carlo Vanel had disappeared.

Dante stood inside his Manhattan office while Marco placed a phone on the desk.

“He knows Greg talked.”

“Then he'll run.”

“No.”

Elena entered.

Dante frowned.

“You're supposed to be at the hospital.”

“Toby kicked me out.”

“He's ten.”

“He said I'm hovering.”

“He's correct.”

She glared.

Dante almost smiled.

Elena placed Sofia's letter on his desk.

“I read everything.”

Dante's smile disappeared.

“And?”

“My mother forgave you.”

“She shouldn't have.”

“She did.”

“Elena—”

“That doesn't mean I do.”

“I understand.”

“But I also know you were nineteen.”

Dante looked away.

“You don't have to make excuses for me.”

“I'm not.”

She stepped closer.

“I'm saying the man who drove that car isn't necessarily the man standing here.”

Dante looked at her.

“Be careful.”

“Why?”

“You're starting to sound like you trust me.”

“Don't get excited.”

Marco suddenly cleared his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt whatever this terrifyingly healthy conversation is.”

Dante stared at him.

Marco immediately became serious.

“Carlo contacted us.”

“What does he want?”

“Elena.”

Dante's expression turned cold.

“No.”

Elena crossed her arms.

“What does he want?”

Marco answered.

“The original ledger Sofia hid.”

“I don't have it.”

Dante looked toward the old photograph.

Then something clicked.

He picked it up.

Opened the frame.

A small brass key fell onto the desk.

Elena stared.

“My mother.”

Dante nodded.

“She always was smarter than us.”

The key opened a storage locker beneath Grand Central Terminal.

Inside was a ledger documenting decades of financial crimes.

Enough evidence to destroy Carlo.

Elena closed it.

“We give it to federal prosecutors.”

Dante looked at her.

“If we do, parts of my organization go with him.”

“Yes.”

Marco looked between them.

“Boss?”

Dante was silent for several seconds.

Then he said, “Make copies.”

Elena stared.

“That's it?”

“What were you expecting?”

“A speech.”

“I hate speeches.”

“You'd give up part of your empire?”

Dante met her eyes.

“An empire that survives only because people are afraid to tell the truth deserves to lose a few walls.”

That evening, Dante announced a charity gala at the Vanel Grand.

The rumor spread quickly.

So did the rumor that Elena would carry the original ledger.

It was bait.

At 10:20 p.m., Elena entered the ballroom.

She was no longer wearing her Velvet Lounge uniform.

A simple black evening dress replaced it.

Dante waited near the orchestra.

“You look different.”

“That's your opening line?”

“I wasn't prepared.”

“Dante Vanel wasn't prepared?”

“Don't repeat that.”

She smiled.

Then his expression became serious.

“You stay beside me.”

“We discussed this.”

“We did.”

“You promised I wouldn't be treated like cargo.”

“I remember.”

“So stop ordering me around.”

Dante sighed.

“Would you please stay beside me?”

“Better.”

Marco approached.

“He's here.”

Carlo entered from the staircase.

Several men followed.

Guests moved nervously.

Carlo smiled.

“Beautiful party.”

Dante faced him.

“You always did enjoy arriving where you weren't invited.”

Carlo looked at Elena.

“Ledger.”

“No.”

“You have no idea what you're holding.”

“I know exactly what it is.”

“It could destroy this family.”

Elena glanced at Dante.

“Maybe parts of this family need destroying.”

Carlo laughed.

“You've corrupted him quickly.”

“No,” Dante said.

“She reminded me corruption has a price.”

Carlo's smile disappeared.

“You think the authorities will protect you?”

Elena answered.

“They don't have to.”

Carlo frowned.

She pointed toward the musicians.

Several federal agents stood.

Carlo's men immediately stepped backward.

Dante smiled.

“Surprise.”

Carlo looked furious.

“You brought federal agents into my family's hotel?”

Dante corrected him.

“My hotel.”

Agents approached.

Carlo glared at Elena.

“Your father betrayed us.”

“No.”

Elena stepped closer.

“My father tried to stop you.”

Carlo's face twisted.

“He should've minded his business.”

The ballroom fell silent.

Dante's eyes sharpened.

Elena smiled.

“Thank you.”

Carlo frowned.

“For what?”

She touched the small microphone hidden near her necklace.

“For finally saying it yourself.”

Carlo's face drained.

The agents moved in.

As Carlo was escorted away, he looked at Dante.

“You're throwing away your blood for a waitress.”

Dante answered quietly.

“No.”

He looked at Elena.

“I'm finally honoring a debt to someone who deserved better.”

Carlo disappeared through the doors.

The ballroom slowly relaxed.

Elena exhaled.

“Is it over?”

Dante looked toward the federal agents carrying the ledger.

“For him.”

“And for you?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

Dante extended his hand.

Elena looked at it.

“Seriously?”

“You still owe me a dance.”

She smiled.

“I already gave you one.”

“That was terrible.”

“You're blaming me?”

“You stepped on my shoe.”

“Once.”

“Three times.”

“Your shoes survived.”

“They're Italian.”

“Then they're dramatic.”

Dante laughed.

The orchestra began playing.

Elena placed her hand in his.

May you like

This time, when they danced, nobody in the room was afraid.

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