CHAPTER 2 – The Apartment That Should Not Exist
CHAPTER 2 – The Apartment That Should Not Exist
The building was not on any map Dante trusted.
Old brick.
Falling paint.
A stairwell that smelled like rust and damp memory.
The girls led him up three flights, their small feet barely making sound.
Nico stayed close behind Dante, hand near his weapon.
“Boss,” Nico whispered, “this place is wrong.”
Dante already knew.
Everything about this was wrong.
Because Elena Ward was dead.
And yet—
The door at the end of the hallway opened before they knocked.
A woman stood there.
And Dante stopped breathing again.
She was thinner than memory.
Palder.
Tired in a way that looked permanent.
Her hair was tied back loosely, falling in dark-blond waves around her face.
But the eyes—
Green.
Exactly the same.
“Girls,” she said softly, voice shaking slightly. “Who did you bring?”
The children moved behind her like shields.
The bold one pointed at Dante.
“He bought your painting.”
The woman’s gaze lifted.
And the world broke again.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Because recognition is not always immediate.
Sometimes it is a wound opening slowly.
“I don’t know you,” the woman said carefully.
But her fingers tightened on the doorframe.
Dante stepped forward.
“Your name is Elena Ward.”
A pause.
Then—
“No,” she said too quickly.
Too sharp.
Too afraid.
“My name is Claire Morgan.”
The lie should have ended it.
But Dante had buried Elena Ward once.
He knew what death looked like.
And this was not it.
“You were in a car accident seven years ago,” Dante said quietly.
Her breath caught.
The smallest girl tugged her sleeve. “Mama… you’re shaking.”
Claire Morgan knelt instantly, forcing a smile.
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
But her eyes never left Dante.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
Dante hesitated.
For the first time in years, he chose honesty.
“My name is Dante Russo.”
Silence.
The name meant something—even here.
Claire’s face drained of color.
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Dante said. “And I need you to tell me why you’re alive.”
The room tilted.
One of the girls suddenly coughed.
Hard.
Claire rushed to her immediately, panic breaking through her control.
“Lily, breathe slowly—”
Dante saw it then.
The medicine bottles.
Half-empty.
Expensive labels scraped off.
The poverty hiding behind careful walls.
“She’s sick,” Dante said.
“I know,” Claire snapped. “We’re handling it.”
“With what money?”
That silence was answer enough.
Dante turned slightly.
“Nico,” he said.
Nico stepped forward reluctantly.
“Arrange a doctor. Now.”
Claire stepped in front of him instantly.
“No medical staff. No hospitals. No one touches them.”
Her voice was shaking—but firm.
That was when Dante understood.
She wasn’t just hiding from poverty.
She was hiding from something else.
Something that made a dead woman change her name.
Something that made three children live like fugitives.
And something—someone—had made Elena Ward afraid.
Dante took one step closer.
“Who are you running from?”
Claire’s lips parted—
But before she could answer—
A loud bang echoed from downstairs.
Footsteps.
Fast.
Heavy.
Too many.
Nico swore under his breath.
Claire went pale instantly.
“They found us,” she whispered.
Dante’s eyes sharpened.
“Who found you?”
But Claire was already pulling the girls behind her.
And for the first time since he built his empire—
Dante Russo realized something terrifying.
May you like
This wasn’t a reunion.
It was a war returning to finish what it started.
