The Mafia Boss Abandoned a Million-Dollar War When His Secretary Whispered, “Come Get Me” — But the Real Betrayal Was Waiting Beside Him.

PART 8

By noon, the penthouse was operating as a command center.

Priya used a laptop to protect Castellan Holdings from the legitimate consequences of an illegal war. She paused shipments, moved employees to safe offices, and instructed managers to close several businesses under the excuse of electrical inspections.

At eleven twenty-seven, Marcus received a call. His face hardened. He placed the phone on the island.

Dante read the message. Then he turned it facedown.

“Everyone out.”

No one moved.

“Boss,” Silas began.

“Now.”

The men collected their coats and weapons. Silas remained near the elevator. “We need to respond.”

“I will call you.”

Silas looked at Priya, then at Dante. The elevator closed.

Priya set the laptop aside. “What happened?”

Dante approached her carefully. He took both her hands. The gentleness frightened her.

“They went to your apartment.”

Her fingers turned cold. “When?”

“Twenty minutes ago.”

“My neighbors?”

“The building was mostly evacuated.”

“Mostly?”

“One firefighter was injured. No tenants were killed.”

She searched his face. “What did they do?”

“They kicked in your door. When they didn’t find you, they set a fire.”

The room lost sound.

Priya pictured the bookshelves she had assembled herself. Her grandmother’s quilt folded across the end of her bed. A box of childhood photographs. A chipped blue mug her father had used every morning before he died.

All of it lived inside that apartment. All of it burned.

Her knees weakened. Dante caught her.

“I’ll replace everything,” he said. “The furniture, the clothes, the building if you want it.”

“I don’t care about the furniture.”

Her voice broke.

“I know.”

“My mother’s letters were there.”

Dante held her tighter. “The firefighters may recover something.”

“She wrote them before she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

Priya pressed her face into his chest. “If I had gone home…”

“You didn’t.”

“I would have been asleep.”

“You called me.”

The truth struck her with delayed force. Dante had not merely removed her from the club. He had saved her from a second attack she did not know was coming.

She pulled back. “This wasn’t improvised.”

“No.”

“They knew my date, my address, and the office.”

“Yes.”

“Everett said Marchetti wanted your schedules, but the fire was arranged too quickly. They planned to take me from the club. If that failed, they expected me to go home.”

Dante’s jaw tightened. “You are done thinking about this today.”

“No.”

“Priya.”

“No.” She moved away from him. “They had an entire plan built around my habits. That information came from someone who knew when I left the office, where I lived, and how I spent Friday nights.”

“You do not spend Friday nights anywhere.”

“I did last night.”

“Which made the timing valuable.”

Priya looked toward the elevator. “Who knew about the date?”

“Your friend.”

“She only knew Everett’s name and the restaurant.”

“Anyone in the office?”

“I mentioned it to the receptionist. Everett Voss heard me cancel your eight o’clock Saturday meeting because I said I might be out late. Marcus sent a car for you, but I told him I was driving myself.”

“And Silas?”

She hesitated. “Silas saw the restaurant reservation on your calendar.”

A nearly invisible shift crossed Dante’s face.

“He has access to my calendar when he coordinates security.”

“Dante, I’m not accusing him.”

“I know.”

But he had heard the same thought she had. Silas possessed access to everything Everett had known.