Chapter 6 - The Spider’s Web
Three miles away from Dante’s fortified estate, inside a sprawling penthouse overlooking the glittering skyline of downtown Chicago, an entirely different conversation was taking place.
The room was bathed in the dim, moody amber glow of recessed designer lighting. A fire crackled softly in a modern marble fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the expensive Italian leather sofas and minimalist art pieces.
Julian Vance poured two glasses of vintage champagne, handing one to Vanessa Moretti, who sat draped across an armchair in a silk designer robe, her obsidian hair cascading over her shoulders.
“It’s past two in the morning,” Vanessa murmured, taking a slow sip of the champagne, her eyes fixed on the flickering flames. “The police highway report should have come in by now. Why haven’t we heard anything on the news?”
Julian frowned, swirling the golden liquid in his crystal flute. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, looking out over the rain-slicked avenue below.
“According to the police scanners in the upper ridge sector, there was an accident on Old Mill Road,” Julian said carefully. “A vehicle went through the guardrail at Dead Man’s Curve and plunged into the river.”
Vanessa’s lips curved into a triumphant, breathtakingly cold smile. She set her glass down on the marble coffee table with a soft clink.
“Finally,” she breathed, closing her eyes in sheer satisfaction. “The arrogant bastard is gone. No body, no evidence, no messy divorce proceedings. Just a tragic accident on a rainy mountain night.”
“Not quite,” Julian muttered, his voice tightening.
Vanessa’s eyes snapped open. “What do you mean?”
“The search and rescue teams pulled the wreckage out of the river an hour ago,” Julian said, turning around to face her, his brow furrowed with sudden, deep unease. “The car was completely empty. No body in the driver’s seat. No traces of blood matching Dante’s DNA in the cabin.”
The silence that fell over the penthouse penthouse was absolute, heavy, and suffocating.
Vanessa stood up so fast her champagne glass tipped over, spilling golden liquid across the white marble table.
“Empty?” she whispered, the color draining instantly from her face. “How is that possible? The brakes were completely severed! He took that curve at seventy miles per hour!”
“I don’t know,” Julian said, running a hand through his thinning hair, panic beginning to flicker in his eyes. “Either he jumped out before the curve—which is statistically impossible given his reaction time—or someone warned him. Someone intercepted him before he hit the ridge.”
Vanessa’s hands began to shake. She gripped the back of the leather armchair for support, her nails digging into the fabric. If Dante was alive—if he had survived his own assassination attempt—he wouldn't just kill her. He would dismantle her piece by piece, strip away every cent of his empire, and turn everyone she had ever loved into ash.
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“Find out who was on the road tonight,” Vanessa hissed, her voice trembling with rising terror. “Check every traffic camera, every toll booth, every dashcam between Bellini’s and Old Mill Road. I want to know who interfered.”
“I’m already on it,” Julian replied darkly, reaching for his encrypted burner phone on the desk. “If someone helped him, they’re a loose end. And we tie up our loose ends permanently.”
