Chapter 7 - The Final Audit
The heavy steel-reinforced glass doors slid open with a smooth, pneumatic hiss.
The cool night air rushed into the grand foyer, carrying the sound of crashing ocean waves and Derek’s ragged breathing. For a second, Derek stumbled forward, expecting to grab Arya by the collar.
Instead, he hit empty air as two of Dante’s massive guards grabbed him by his shoulders, lifting him completely off his feet and dragging him across the pristine marble floor inside the foyer.
“Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am?” Derek shrieked, kicking his legs uselessly as he was slammed down onto his knees directly in front of Arya.
Arya looked down at him. The man who had terrorized her family for over a year looked small, pathetic, and utterly hollow. His clothes were cheap, his debts were mounting, and his life had already been systematically dismantled piece by piece over the last seventy-two hours by Dante’s financial and legal assassins.
“You’re nobody, Derek,” Arya said, her voice completely steady, cold, and clear. “You were never a father. You were just a parasite.”
Derek sneered, blood dripping from his lip where he had struck the door earlier. “You think you’re safe here with this criminal? He’s going to use you up and throw you away just like everyone else!”
“That is enough,” Dante commanded softly.
He stepped forward, placing one hand gently on Arya’s shoulder—a gesture of ownership, protection, and absolute solidarity. Dante looked down at Derek as if he were inspecting an insect on the bottom of his shoe.
“Derek Wells. Born June 14, 1988,” Dante recited with terrifying precision. “Current liabilities: four hundred thousand dollars in illegal gambling debts owed to the Falcone syndicate. Active arrest warrants for corporate embezzlement in three states. And a restraining order signed by a federal judge this afternoon that prohibits you from coming within five hundred miles of Miss Bennett or her nephew.”
Derek’s face drained of all color. “How... how do you know that?”
“In my city, I know everything before it happens,” Dante said smoothly. He motioned to the guards. “Take him to the shipping docks. Put him on the midnight cargo freighter bound for South America. Make sure his debts follow him across the equator. If he ever sets foot in this country again, feed him to the sharks.”
“No! Please! Arya, help me! Please!” Derek screamed, thrashing wildly as the guards hauled him backward toward the open doors, his desperate cries fading into the roar of the ocean wind.
The heavy glass doors slid shut, sealing the foyer in absolute, unbroken silence.
Arya stood frozen for a moment, her chest heaving as the last ghost of her past was quite literally dragged out of her life. She closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath that felt like shedding a heavy winter coat she had worn for years.
When she opened her eyes, Dante was watching her with an intense, quiet admiration.
“Are you satisfied, Arya?” he asked softly, using her first name with a familiar warmth that sent a strange, electric spark through her veins.
Arya turned to face him, her chin tilted up, meeting his slate-gray gaze without an ounce of fear.
“I am,” she whispered. “Thank you, Dante.”
May you like
Dante reached out, his warm fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. “You don't need to thank me for protecting what is mine.”
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