Dante stared at the records the following morning.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
His family attorney, Marcus Bell, shifted uncomfortably.
“Your father handled it privately.”
“Why?”
“He was ashamed.”
Dante looked up.
“Of what?”
Marcus hesitated.
Then answered.
“Because Sofia did more than save your lives.”
The room went quiet.
“She discovered what caused the fire.”
Dante frowned.
“Electrical fault.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
Dante stared.
“The fire was set intentionally.”
Lena felt her stomach tighten.
“By who?”
Marcus looked at Dante.
“Your uncle, Salvatore.”
Dante’s father had a younger brother.
Salvatore Moretti had died ten years earlier.
He had always been described as unstable.
Jealous.
Dangerous.
Dante knew the stories.
But not this one.
Marcus continued.
“Salvatore was trying to kill Antonio.”
“Why?”
“Control of the family companies.”
Lena stared at him.
“Sofia knew?”
“Yes.”
“She saw him leaving the basement minutes before the fire.”
Dante leaned back.
“What happened?”
“Antonio convinced her not to testify.”
Lena’s eyes hardened.
Dante looked at Marcus.
“He paid her?”
“No.”
Marcus swallowed.
“He threatened her.”
The silence was immediate.
Lena stood.
“What?”
Marcus looked ashamed.
“Antonio believed public exposure would destroy the family.”
“He told Sofia that if she went to the police, he would make sure nobody hired her again.”
Lena stared.
“He threatened a woman who had just saved his son?”
Marcus did not answer.
Dante looked physically sick.
Lena’s eyes filled.
Suddenly, pieces of her childhood made sense.
Why Sofia moved constantly.
Why wealthy households would hire her, then mysteriously let her go.
Why she eventually stopped applying for private domestic work.
Why she worked laundries.
Restaurants.
Hotels.
Antonio Moretti had kept his promise.
Just not the honorable one.
Dante stood.
“My father blacklisted her.”
Marcus nodded.
“For several years.”
Lena laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“And then he created a five-million-dollar fund?”
“Yes.”
“After destroying her livelihood?”
Marcus looked down.
“He regretted it.”
Lena’s voice broke.
“How convenient.”
Dante looked at her.
“Lena—”
“No.”
She stepped backward.
“My mother worked two jobs.”
“She worried about grocery bills.”
“She died afraid I wouldn’t be able to cover the rent.”
“And your father had five million dollars sitting somewhere as an apology?”
Dante said nothing.
Lena pointed toward the ring.
“That thing wasn’t protection.”
“It was guilt.”
She walked out.
Dante did not stop her.
Because she was right.
Lena packed that afternoon.
Mrs. Alvarez, the senior housekeeper, found her folding uniforms.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Lena forced a smile.
“Family history.”
Mrs. Alvarez nodded slowly.
“In this house, that usually means something terrible.”
Lena almost laughed.
Then someone knocked.
Dante stood outside.
Lena returned to packing.
“I’m not staying.”
