Chapter 2 - Sins of the Father
The heavily armored black SUV tore through the midnight rain, its tinted glass windows isolating Evelyn from the glowing lights of Manhattan.
Dante sat across from her in the spacious leather interior, a crystal glass of amber bourbon held loosely in his large hand. He hadn't spoken a word since dragging her off the stage by her silk bindings.
Evelyn rubbed her red, chafed wrists where he had finally cut the ropes with a silver pocket knife. Her heart pounded against her ribs, but anger began to burn away the edges of her fear.
“My father died in a car accident when I was twelve,” Evelyn said, her voice steady despite the trembling in her hands. “He was a middle-school history teacher in Queens. He didn't own a gun, he didn't gamble, and he certainly didn't know a billionaire mobster like you.”
Dante took a slow sip of his drink, his dark eyes fixed on her face like a hawk watching prey. “Your father was a master of disguise, Evelyn. He wasn't a teacher. His real name was Julian Vance.”
The name meant nothing to her, but the sheer gravity with which Dante spoke it made the air in the vehicle feel heavy.
“Julian Vance was the chief intelligence officer for the Vance Crime Family,” Dante continued softly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Fifteen years ago, he leaked the security codes to my family’s estate in Long Island. He let an armed strike team inside. They slaughtered my mother, my younger sister, and my father right in front of my eyes. I was twelve years old, hiding behind a false wall in the library.”
Evelyn’s breath hitched. She saw a flicker of raw, agonizing pain flash behind the cold barrier of Dante’s eyes before it was replaced by pure steel.
“My father didn't kill anyone—”
“Your father set the fire!” Dante snapped, slamming his glass into the leather armrest with enough force to crack the thick crystal. The liquid splashed over his knuckles, but he didn't flinch. “He faked his identity, hid in Queens under the name Arthur Hart, and raised you on the blood money he received for butchering my family.”
“That’s a lie!” Evelyn yelled back, leaning forward despite the terror threatening to drown her. “We were broke! My mother worked sixteen-hour shifts at a dry cleaner just to keep the heat on in our apartment! If my father had blood money, where was it?! Why did my mother die of untreated pneumonia because we couldn't afford prescription medicine?!”
Dante’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Julian Vance was captured three weeks ago by my men in Europe. Before I could make him talk, he took a cyanide capsule. But he left behind a registry of his surviving bloodline. You.”
The SUV slowed down, turning into a massive iron gate that opened automatically to reveal a monolithic concrete and glass mansion perched high on the cliffs overlooking the dark waters of the Long Island Sound.
“I spent fifteen years hunting the ghost who murdered my family,” Dante said quietly as the vehicle came to a complete halt in the underground garage. “I paid fifty million dollars to buy you from that auction house tonight, Evelyn. Not to kill you quickly. But to ensure that every single day for the rest of your life, you remember that your existence is property of the Bellamy Syndicate.”
The rear door was pulled open from the outside by a broad-shouldered guard in a black suit.
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Dante stepped out into the chilly air, holding his hand out toward her. “Welcome to your cage, Miss Hart.”
Evelyn looked at his hand, then looked directly into his cold, dark eyes. “You can chain me to these walls, Dante Bellamy. But you will never make me beg.”
