Chapter 6 - Dante’s Second Toast
The Moretti family gathered two nights later.
The same men who had attended the wedding returned to the estate ballroom.
Nobody knew why.
Elena stood upstairs.
“You don’t have to do this,” she told Dante.
“Yes, I do.”
“You already apologized.”
“To you.”
He adjusted his black jacket.
“I humiliated you publicly.”
“So?”
“So the correction should be public too.”
Elena studied him.
“Dante Moretti admitting he was wrong?”
“Don’t spread it around.”
“Four hundred people are downstairs.”
“Minor detail.”
They entered together.
Conversation stopped.
Dante walked to the same position where he had stood on their wedding night.
A champagne glass waited.
He picked it up.
Elena’s stomach tightened.
Dante noticed.
Then he addressed the room.
“Some of you remember the toast I gave at my wedding.”
Nobody answered.
Dante smiled.
“Interesting. You laughed loudly enough.”
Several men suddenly became fascinated by the floor.
“I called Elena the bride nobody wanted.”
His gaze moved through the room.
“I said silence suited her.”
Elena stared at him.
“I was wrong.”
The words seemed to shock the room more than a threat would have.
Dante continued.
“When I was dying, some of the men in this room gave blood.”
He raised his glass.
“None could save me.”
He turned toward Elena.
“She did.”
A murmur moved through the crowd.
“But that isn’t why I was wrong.”
Dante put down his glass.
“I was wrong because Elena deserved dignity before she ever did anything for me.”
Elena’s eyes burned.
Dante looked toward Marco.
“Some people thought silence meant she was stupid.”
Marco coughed.
Dante almost smiled.
“Some thought it meant weakness.”
His eyes returned to Elena.
“I learned differently.”
He held out his hand.
Elena looked at it.
Then took it.
Dante faced the room.
“My sister Lucia died because she believed an innocent child mattered more than a family war.”
His voice hardened.
“That child became Elena Rossi.”
Shock moved across the ballroom.
“My father buried Lucia’s sacrifice. My uncle buried her murder.”
Dante looked at the portraits of Moretti men hanging above the room.
“That ends tonight.”
Salvatore stepped forward.
The old man raised his glass.
“To Lucia.”
One by one, others followed.
“To Lucia.”
Dante turned toward Elena.
“And to my wife.”
Everyone raised their glasses.
Elena whispered, “This is very dramatic.”
“I’m Italian.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Also true.”
But their victory was not complete.
After the guests left, Salvatore entered Dante’s study.
“There’s something you should see.”
He handed Dante a document recovered from Sofia’s ledger.
It listed payments, names, and properties.
At the bottom was one final instruction written by Vittorio.
If Sofia Rossi’s daughter ever returns to the Moretti house, remove her before she discovers what Lucia left behind.
Dante stared at it.
Elena read over his shoulder.
“My marriage wasn’t random.”
Salvatore shook his head.
“No.”
Dante’s expression darkened.
“Who arranged the Rossi agreement?”
Salvatore hesitated.
“Elena’s father.”
She went pale.
“My father knew?”
“I think he knew enough.”
Elena stepped backward.
Dante caught her hand.
She pulled away.
“I need to talk to him.”
“I’ll come.”
“No.”
Dante started to argue.
Then stopped.
Elena looked surprised.
“You’re learning.”
“Slowly.”
She headed toward the door.
“Elena.”
She turned.
“If he knew you were in danger and sent you here anyway…”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“…you’re coming home with me.”
Elena looked at him for a long moment.
“Home?”
Dante realized what he had said.
“Yes.”
Something softened in her face.
May you like
Then she left.
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