The phone in Sadi’s hand was dead, but the quiet, icy voice on the other end still echoed in her ears. “If anyone tries to come in, hide her. I am ten minutes away.”

Dante Vance didn't look at Trent bleeding on the floor. He didn't look at the splinters of wood or the heavy broom handle Sadi was still holding like a weapon.

His eyes locked directly onto his sister.

"Chloe," he said softly.

The terrifying, cold presence in the room seemed to shift instantly. Dante dropped to one knee beside the old armchair, taking his sister’s small, shaking hands into his own.

"Dante..." Chloe sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck. "Dante, the baby..."

Dante looked down at the dark stain on her pants. His face didn't betray emotion, but a muscle in his jaw flexed hard enough to snap wood. He pulled a crisp silk handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against her forehead, wiping away her sweat.

"Marco," Dante commanded without looking back.

A man at the door stepped forward instantly. "Boss?"

"Get the doctor to the private clinic. Clear the floor. Have the surgical team ready."

"Right away, sir." Marco gently scooped Chloe into his arms, wrapping her in a thick wool coat, and carried her out toward the waiting SUVs.

As Chloe was carried away, she looked over Marco's shoulder, her pale face desperate. "Dante... the girl. She saved me. Trent was going to kick me again... she stopped him."

Dante stayed kneeling for a moment. Then he slowly stood up.

He turned around. His height was imposing, his presence filling the tiny break room until the air felt too thin to breathe. He looked at Sadi, taking in her grease-stained apron, her cheap slip-resistant shoes, her chest heaving with adrenaline, and the heavy broom handle held tightly in her bruised hands.

Then his gaze drifted down to Trent, who was still pinned under his guard's boot, wheezing on the floor.

"You broke his knee," Dante noted. It wasn't a question.

"With a flashlight," Sadi said, her voice raspy. She refused to lower the broom handle. She refused to back down, even though every nerve in her body screamed that this man was far more dangerous than Trent could ever dream of being. "He was going to kill her."

Trent groaned from the floor, spitting blood onto the tile. "Dante... listen to me! She’s lying! Your sister is crazy! She fell... she fell down the steps!"

Dante didn't even look down at his brother-in-law. He simply stepped onto Trent’s shattered kneecap and pressed down slightly.

Trent let out a blood-curdling shriek that shook the walls of the diner, thrashing wildly until he fainted from the sheer agony.

"Get him out of my sight," Dante ordered quietly. "Take him to the warehouse. Do not let him die until I get there."

The guards dragged Trent out by his arms like a sack of trash, leaving a long red streak across the floor.

Now, only Sadi and Dante were left in the room.

Dante reached into his inner suit pocket. Sadi tightened her grip on the broom handle, ready to swing if necessary.

Instead of a gun, Dante pulled out a sleek leather wallet. He extracted a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills and placed them calmly on the small table beside her.

"For the damage to your diner," Dante said. "And for your silence."

Sadi looked at the money. There had to be at least ten thousand dollars sitting there—enough to pay her rent for a year, fix her car, and buy a new life.

She looked back up at Dante Vance, her jaw set, her eyes burning with quiet fire.

"I don't want your money," Sadi said clearly. "I didn't do it for a payoff. I did it because he was kicking a pregnant woman on the ground."

Dante raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine intrigue passing through his cold eyes. "You know who I am, don't you?"

"I know," Sadi replied. "And I know that taking your money means I owe you. I don't owe anyone anything."

Dante stared at her for three long seconds. The silence hung heavy, electric with unspoken tension.

"You broke the knee of a man who has half the city's corrupt police force on his payroll," Dante said softly. "By tomorrow morning, Trent's associates will realize he's gone. They will track down where he was last seen. They will come to this diner, and they will kill anyone who saw what happened."

Sadi felt a cold wave of realization crash over her. Her home address was on her employment file in the back office. Her license plate was registered to her apartment complex.

She hadn't just saved a life tonight. She had signed her own death warrant.

"Get your things," Dante said, turning toward the door.