DeLuca's Sin

One Phone Call

The tension of the boardroom vanished the moment Dante's private office door closed. The room was richly paneled and dark.

Dante walked straight to his high-backed leather chair, tossed his jacket across the armrest, and crossed his legs up on the desk immediately he sat down. The razor-sharp composure he had for the meeting was gone, replaced by a familiar, friendly slouch.

He tossed a small silver cigarette lighter between his hands, a nervous habit he'd had since he was twelve.

"The golden boy speaks," Dante murmured, a genuine grin touching his lips. "Four brilliant, instant solutions. We pay analysts fortunes to figure out things you nail with a single sentence. I will never forget that math exam in high school. I spent all night studying, but still failed anyway, and you just scribbled the answers on your way out the door."

I let out a laugh. "You were always better with a crowbar than a calculator, Dante."

"And you were always better at charming the old man," he countered, the amusement in his eyes deepening. "Everyone always loved you more, Luciano. The brains, the calm, the untouchable genius. You were Father's masterpiece. I was just the reliable grunt who kept the wheels from falling off."

"You keep the wheels from stripping," I corrected, my voice softer. "And you clean up the mess I leave behind."

He nodded, the lightness fading just a fraction. He picked up the lighter, his eyes settling on me.

"Speaking of mess, the old man—he's still pressing. Hard. He hasn't seen you in like six years. He recently asked me to conduct a thorough investigation to see if you were dead already.

"And you've told him what?" I asked without hesitation.

"Same answer as always, 'I'm doing my best, Don, the results always come up the same'," Dante said with a hint of pride. "But that only lasts as long as I can keep the information flow controlled. For now, he trusts me enough not to open an investigation himself."

He was risking a great deal, lying to the Don, even on my behalf. The weight of his loyalty felt like a physical pressure in the room. I knew he always had my back.

"Even if he did, I doubt he will find anything. His influence is dying." I said. After a moment of hesitation, I asked, "And Mother?" The name felt like glass in my throat. She was the only bond I truly regretted cutting.

Dante exhaled slowly. "She is... she's managing. She pretends you're on a long trip, but she knows. Mothers always know."

Taking his legs off the table, he leaned forward, the casual brotherhood replaced by a genuine, heartfelt frustration. "Lu, six years. Not a word. Not an untraceable phone call. You built a fortress, you're the most careful man alive. Surely you can spare one minute for the one person in this world who still only sees her little boy."

I looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

"I can't risk it. If I reach out, I will be exposing Alyssa to that tenuous connection. It's better this way." Even the thought of it brought a cold wash of panic.

Dante sank back into his chair, the leather squeaking in protest. He looked genuinely disappointed.

"I'm the one who introduced you to Alyssa. I thought she was a good reason to take a break, a safe exit for some time." He sighed, tapping the lighter against the desk. "But I never thought she was worth cutting off the only woman who... "

My phone suddenly rang, interrupting him. I was expecting a call from one person; she must be missing me just as much as I miss her. Without hesitation or even looking at the caller's ID, I answered the call,

"Amore, are you..." There was a trace of excitement in my voice as I spoke, but the voice I heard didn't belong to Alyssa. And what the man on the other end said made my blood run cold.

"My wife was what!!?" I shouted, standing abruptly, cold sweat already running down my spine.