Chapter 10
Six months later, the Whitmore estate had fully healed from the scars of the winter war. Spring had arrived in full force, transforming the sprawling grounds into a vibrant paradise of blooming roses and lush green lawns.
Megan stood on the sweeping stone balcony of the master suite, breathing in the fresh morning air. She wore a beautifully tailored emerald green sundress that perfectly complimented her fair, rosy skin. On her left hand, free of any bandages, a massive, flawless diamond ring sparkled in the sunlight. She was adjusting perfectly to her new life as the lady of the Whitmore syndicate, transforming the cold, intimidating mansion into a warm, loving home.
Down in the gardens below, Dante was playing with Felix. The ruthless mafia boss was currently on his hands and knees in the grass, pretending to be a horse while Felix rode on his back, giggling uncontrollably. Dante’s laughter echoed up to the balcony, a sound Megan cherished more than anything in the world.
She turned away from the idyllic scene as the heavy wooden doors of the master suite opened.
Dante’s top lieutenant, Silas, walked into the room. He was a hardened man who rarely showed emotion, but today, his face was pale, and his jaw was set with extreme tension. He didn't look toward the balcony.
"Silas?" Megan asked, stepping back into the room. "Is something wrong? Dante is in the garden."
"I know, Mrs. Whitmore," Silas said, stopping in the center of the room. He held a small, black encrypted tablet in his hands. "But this just came through the secure server. It was routed through a dozen offshore proxies. It bypassed all our firewalls."
"What is it?" Megan asked, a cold knot of dread forming in her stomach. The absolute peace of the last six months suddenly felt incredibly fragile.
"It's a video file, ma'am. And a message," Silas said grimly.
Megan walked over and looked at the screen. The video was paused on a grainy, dark image. It looked like a holding cell. In the center of the frame, tied to a metal chair, was a man who looked exactly like Dante—but older, battered, and bleeding.
Megan gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Who is that?"
"That is Julian Whitmore," Silas whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "Dante's older brother. The one who supposedly died in a car crash ten years ago."
Megan’s mind raced. Dante had mourned his brother for a decade. The grief had shaped him into the ruthless man he became.
"What is the message, Silas?" Megan demanded, her clear eyes hardening with the defensive instincts of a mafia queen.
Silas swallowed hard before reading the text below the video.
May you like
"It says... 'Sabrina was just a pawn. The real game begins now. Hand over the boy, or the brother burns.'"
Down in the garden, Dante’s laughter suddenly stopped. He looked up at the balcony, his sharp instincts sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The war with the Rowes had just been a distraction. A much darker ghost had just arrived at their door.
