Chapter 7 - The Unseen Enemy
Two weeks passed inside the Cavallaro penthouse.
UnderDr. Evans's watchful eye and a specialized diet, Sophie slowly began to regain her strength. The deep bruises on her face faded to a pale yellow, and the infection in her arm cleared up. Yet, despite the luxury surrounding her, she remains hyper-vigilant, flinching whenever a door slammed or a guard raised his voice in the hallway.
Dante spent hours in the penthouse instead of his downtown office. He canceled meetings, ignored council summons, and sat with her in the evenings while she stared silently out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Chicago skyline.
One evening, as a snowstorm lashed against the glass, Dante placed a steaming cup of tea on the small table beside her chair.
“You haven't touched your dinner,” he noted quietly.
Sophie looked down at the plate of grilled salmon and vegetables. “I'm not very hungry.”
“You need to regain your weight, Sophie.”
“Dante... why am I still here?” she asked, looking up at him with earnest, sorrowful eyes. “I was just your maid. Now Marco is dead, your name is cleared, and the safe is balanced. I don't belong in this world.”
Dante pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Before you came to work for me, who were you?” he asked suddenly.
Sophie blinked, surprised by the question. “I... I told you my resume. Graduate in history from Northwestern. Struggling to pay off student loans.”
“That was the cover story Marco vetted,” Dante corrected gently. “I had my men dig deeper over the last week. Your father was Arthur Miller. Former chief accountant for the Vane syndicate before he tried to testify against Silas Vane twenty years ago and was found dead in his car.”
Sophie's breath hitched. The color drained from her face.
“How... how do you know that?”
“Silas Vane didn't just target you at random six months ago,” Dante said, his voice dark and measured. “He knew who you were. Marco knew who you were. When Marco framed you, he wasn't just covering up his own theft—he was delivering you straight to Vane as a bonus.”
Sophie gripped the armrests of her chair so hard her knuckles turned white. “Vane killed my father. And now... he wants me.”
“He won't get you,” Dante said, his voice dropping into a lethal promise. “Vane thinks he won because he broke into my house and took you. But he made one critical mistake.”
"What's that?"
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“He left you alive long enough for me to find you.”
Before Sophie could answer, the penthouse security alarm began to wail—a shrill, ear-piercing shriek that rattled the glass panes.
