Serafina
The door to Dante’s office closed behind me with a soft click that felt like a lock. He didn’t stand. He didn’t pretend this was polite. He just watched me from behind his desk, a slim folder open and waiting like a verdict.
“Sit,” he said.
I crossed the room on heels that suddenly felt too loud and lowered myself into the chair across from him.
“What is this?” I asked, keeping my voice even.
“Your brother’s debts,” he said. “Every signature. Every missed payment. Albani cartel. They don’t forgive. They collect.”
I pulled the folder closer. Numbers. Names. Interest climbing like a bad dream. My throat went tight. “How deep?”
“Too deep,” he said. No drama. Just fact. “The kind you don’t climb out of.”
I looked up sharply. “How did you even get this?”
His jaw flexe
