Chapter 1 - The Broken Oath
Dr. Evans wiped his hands with a antiseptic wipe, his voice dropping into a solemn register. "While she was unconscious under the local anesthetic, she kept repeating two words over and over."
Dante stood motionless in the hallway of his penthouse. "What words, Samuel?"
"She kept saying, 'Brother promised. Brother promised.'" Evans picked up his medical satchel. "Dante, Sophie didn't steal that money. A woman who was drugged and held captive for six months couldn't plan an internal heist of that scale. Whoever gave you that ledger six months ago didn't just frame her—they handed you a corpse that happened to still be breathing."
Dante’s blood ran cold.
Brother.
In the Cavallaro organization, there were fifty men who called Dante "boss." But there was only one man who had the right to call him brother—Julian Cavallaro, his half-brother and the chief financial officer of the Cavallaro Syndicate.
Six months ago, it had been Julian who walked into Dante’s private office with a pale face, holding the open safe door and a forged bank transfer showing Sophie’s signature beside a missing ledger. It was Julian who had said, “I’m sorry, Dante. I know you cared for her, but she sold us out to Silas Vane.”
Dante pushed past Dr. Evans and walked into the master bedroom.
The room smelled of antiseptic and ozone. Sophie lay beneath four heavy down comforters, a clear IV line running into her bruised forearm, an oxygen cannula resting beneath her pale nose. Her honey-blond hair was damp from the warm sponge bath the nurse had administered, resting like a halo against the white silk pillowcase.
Dante pulled an armchair to the side of the bed and sat down. He reached out with trembling, gloved fingers, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Her skin was burning with fever now—a stark, dangerous contrast to the ice she had been covered in three hours ago.
"Sophie," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry."
Her eyelids fluttered open. For a second, the fever made her brown eyes cloudy, unfocused. Then her gaze locked onto Dante’s face.
She didn't scream this time. She didn't have the strength. But her entire body went rigid with a terror so deep it broke Dante’s heart into a thousand pieces.
"Dante..." she breathed, her lips cracked and bleeding. "Is... is Julian outside?"
Dante felt as though a cold blade had been shoved between his ribs. "Julian?"
Tears welled in Sophie’s eyes, slipping down her bruised temples into her hair. "He told me... he told me if I ever said his name... he would tell you I killed your mother. He said... he said you were waiting for me with a gun..."
Dante grabbed her tiny, ice-cold hand, holding it between both of his palms, pressing it against his cheek.
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"Sophie," Dante swore, his dark eyes burning with an ancient, apocalyptic rage. "Listen to my voice. Julian is never going to touch you again. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again. I am going to tear Chicago apart brick by brick until every single person who touched you is dead."
Sophie looked at him, her chest heaving beneath the blankets. "He took the ledger, Dante... he didn't sell it to Silas Vane. He is Silas Vane’s partner."
