Chapter 4 - The Departure at Dawn
The servant's quarters were small, clean, and utilitarian—a stark contrast to the opulence of the main mansion.
Ivy stood in the center of her small bedroom, closing the brass latches on her battered leather suitcase. Beside it sat a small wooden box containing her grandmother’s old silver hairbrush—a painful reminder of what she had lost.
She was wearing a simple, tailored navy dress, her short, jagged dark hair styled as neatly as possible, curving softly around her jawline.
She looked small, but impossibly strong.
The door was kicked open with enough force to rattle the hinges.
Dante stood in the doorway, chest heaving, his dark hair disheveled.
"You knew," Dante accused her, his voice hoarse.
Ivy picked up her suitcase. "Knew what, Don Morelli?"
"You knew Vanessa’s new secretary was a federal asset," Dante stepped into the room, closing the distance between them until his chest was almost touching hers. "You knew weeks ago."
Ivy looked up into his silver eyes without fear.
"I flagged Mr. Harrison’s financial records three weeks ago, sir," Ivy said calmly. "I left the report on the study desk. But Miss Sterling informed me that my interference in her personal hiring choices was an insult to her authority. She shredded the report in front of me."
Dante closed his eyes, let out a ragged breath, cursing under his breath.
"I didn't stop her," Ivy added quietly. "Because I am just a maid. And a maid knows her place."
Dante opened his eyes, staring down at her with a mixture of agony, awe, and desperate desire.
He realized it now. The terrifying, brilliant perfection of Ivy Bennett. She hadn't used guns, bombs, or poison to destroy her enemies. She had simply stepped back and allowed their own arrogance to burn them to the ground.
She was smarter than his lieutenants. She was more loyal than his allies.
And he was losing her.
"Ivy," Dante whispered, his voice cracking, stripping away every ounce of his criminal authority. "Please."
It was a word Don Dante Morelli had never spoken to another living human being in his thirty-four years of life.
Please.
Ivy’s heart slammed against her ribs. She felt a tear finally prick at the corner of her eye, but she forced herself to stand tall.
"My taxi is waiting at the gate, Dante," she murmured.
Dante reached out, his broad hands gently taking hold of her suitcase handle, refusing to let her lift it.
"I’ll fix this," Dante promised, his voice raw with fierce intensity. "I’ll break the engagement. I’ll send Vanessa back to her father today. I’ll give you total control of the estate. I’ll pay you whatever you want—"
"I don't want your money, Dante!" Ivy cried out, her composure finally shattering into angry tears. "I never wanted your money!"
Dante froze. "Then what do you want?"
Ivy looked at him, her dark hazel eyes shining with years of unspoken heartbreak.
"I wanted you to see me," Ivy sobbed quietly. "Not as a house manager. Not as a convenient security buffer. I wanted you to look at me the way a man looks at a woman he cannot live without. But you were ready to marry a snake in emerald silk just to expand your ports."
She pulled her suitcase from his hand.
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"Enjoy your empire, Don Morelli," Ivy whispered, stepping past him into the hallway. "It’s very quiet at the top."
Dante stood alone in the small servant's room, watching the woman he loved walk out of his life, leaving behind only the faint, sweet scent of pine and lavender in the autumn air.
