Chapter 5 - The Enemy Inside the House
Hope changed Valenti House.
It also made Dante vulnerable.
Within three weeks, he could intentionally move both feet.
Within six, he could lift his right knee.
Serena refused to promise more.
Dante refused to stop trying.
Eli attended almost every session.
Sometimes Noah joined him.
Maya tried repeatedly to apologize.
Dante eventually ordered her to stop.
Then Victor discovered something disturbing.
Someone had accessed Dante's medical archives.
Not recently.
Years earlier.
Records had been altered.
Consultation notes removed.
A neurological assessment recommending aggressive rehabilitation had disappeared entirely.
Dante stared at the documents spread across his desk.
“Who authorized the deletion?”
Victor hesitated.
“Your uncle.”
Marco Valenti.
The man who had managed large portions of Dante's organization during the first two years after his accident.
The man who had repeatedly encouraged Dante to withdraw from public life.
The man who had personally selected several of Dante's doctors.
Dante's expression became frighteningly calm.
“Bring him here.”
Marco arrived that evening.
Sixty-three.
Silver-haired.
Elegant.
He entered the ballroom and immediately noticed Dante's legs were uncovered.
“You look well.”
Dante said nothing.
Marco's eyes shifted toward Victor.
Then the documents.
His face changed.
Dante noticed.
“You knew.”
Marco remained silent.
“You knew rehabilitation might help me.”
“I knew nothing was guaranteed.”
“So you buried the recommendation.”
“I protected you.”
“From what?”
“False hope.”
Dante's voice lowered.
“Try again.”
Marco finally snapped.
“You were impossible after Elena died! You wanted revenge. War. Blood in every street. Someone had to keep the family alive.”
“So you decided keeping me broken was convenient.”
Marco's silence answered.
Dante stared at the man who had helped raise him.
Seven years of stolen possibility stood between them.
Then small footsteps sounded behind him.
Eli.
Dante immediately raised a hand toward Victor.
No confrontation in front of the boy.
No shouting.
No violence.
Marco looked at Eli.
“So this is the child.”
Eli frowned.
“What child?”
“The one filling Dante's head with impossible ideas.”
Eli looked genuinely offended.
“They're not impossible.”
Marco laughed.
“He'll never walk.”
Dante's hands tightened.
Eli looked at Marco.
Then at Dante.
Then he walked across the ballroom.
He placed the red ball on the floor.
“Show him.”
Dante froze.
“Eli.”
“Show him.”
Dante stared at the ball.
Marco shook his head.
“This is ridiculous.”
Eli ignored him.
Dante placed both hands on the arms of his wheelchair.
Serena had forbidden him from attempting to stand without assistance.
But something inside him had changed.
Perhaps anger.
Perhaps pride.
Perhaps the refusal to let another man define the boundaries of his body.
He pushed.
His legs trembled violently.
Victor stepped forward.
Dante raised one hand.
“No.”
Slowly—
painfully—
Dante lifted himself from the chair.
Marco stopped breathing.
Dante's knees shook.
His entire body trembled.
But for three seconds—
Dante Valenti stood.
Then Victor caught him.
Nobody spoke.
Dante looked directly at Marco.
“You should leave.”
May you like
Marco did.
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