Chapter 3 - TOMMASO’S RECKONING
The air in the private clinic room grew thick with menace as Dante summoned the man responsible for blocking my access to him. Within twenty minutes, Tommaso—a massive enforcer with a brutal scar across his cheek—was brought into the suite by two armed guards. Tommaso entered with a practiced swagger, but the moment he saw the cold, murderous fury burning in Dante’s dark eyes, his confidence faltered. "Boss, you wanted to see me?" Tommaso asked, glancing nervously toward the bed where I lay watching. Dante remained seated beside my mattress, his posture deceptively relaxed, though every muscle in his scarred forearms was pulled taut. "Mrs. Caruso came to my offices. She called my private line repeatedly," Dante began, his voice dropping into a register so dangerously quiet that even the medical monitors seemed to hum louder. "And yet, my security protocols ensured she was turned away, threatened with a restraining order, and left to starve in a downtown studio. Explain why my direct orders were countermanded."
Tommaso swallowed hard, shifting his weight. "Boss, you said cut all ties. Clean break. No liabilities. I figured the broad was just trying to dig her claws back into your bank accounts—" Before Tommaso could finish his sentence, Dante moved with blinding, explosive speed. He stood up, crossed the room in a single bound, and slammed Tommaso against the cream-colored wall with a force that rattled the artwork. The enforcer gasped for breath as Dante’s forearm pinned him against the drywall. "She is not a liability. She is my wife, and she was carrying my child," Dante snarled, his face inches from Tommaso’s terrified expression. "You didn't protect my interests, Tommaso. You overstepped your authority, and worse, you made me a monster in her eyes." With a final, contemptuous shove, Dante hurled Tommaso to the floor, instructing Marco to lock him in the estate’s basement holding cells until a full financial audit could expose who had paid off my security detail to isolate me.
