Chapter 3

Seven Years of Love

During the De Luca family’s annual audit, an accountant found an old transfer.

Seven years earlier, Dante had been badly wounded in an ambush. A traitor inside his own organization had blocked his access to the family’s money. No hospital in Chicago would take him.

An anonymous payment sent him to a private clinic in Switzerland.

The money came from the sale of a small Moretti vineyard.

The vineyard had belonged to Elena’s mother.

Dante placed the report in front of her.

“Was this you?”

“Yes.”

“You sold the last property your mother left you?”

“You needed the money.”

“You did not even know me then.”

Elena met his eyes.

“I knew you.”

Dante went still.

She had met him seven years earlier and fallen in love with him. She had paid for his treatment, hidden his travel route, and convinced her father not to abandon peace talks while the De Luca family was weak.

Dante had never known.

He stared at her for a long time.

That night, he thought about their wedding for the first time in years.

Bianca had disappeared. Both families had expected the ceremony to collapse.

Elena had walked into the chapel in a dress made for someone else.

She had never hesitated.

He had never asked why.

A joint family council met that evening.

Several Moretti elders argued that Bianca had given up family protection when she ran from the wedding. They wanted her removed from Chicago.

Under the old rules, Dante could use one personal sponsorship to protect someone without family standing.

Salvatore asked the formal question.

“Will you grant Bianca Moretti permanent protection under the De Luca name?”

Dante did not answer.

Only hours earlier, he had learned what Elena had sacrificed to save his life.

Before the meeting, he had promised himself he would not disappoint her again.

Across the room, Bianca sat pale and silent.

She did not beg.

“I understand,” she said.

She stood to leave.

Dante tightened his grip on the pen.

“I will sponsor her.”

He heard the words after he said them.

He did not look at Elena.

He knew she was sitting beside him. He knew he had made the same choice again.

He told himself this was not love.

He was protecting a woman with nowhere else to go.

After the meeting, he caught Elena in the hall.

“Elena.”

She kept walking.

Dante caught her wrist.

“I cannot let them send her away.”

“I did not blame you.”

“I will not forget what you did for me.”

Elena looked at him.

“I will.”

The answer tightened something in his chest.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

She pulled away.

Dante watched her leave.

For the first time, he felt that she might be moving beyond his reach.

A few minutes later, Bianca’s attorney approached him about housing.

Dante buried the feeling and returned to work.

That night, Elena tried to remember the first time she saw him.

She remembered the Moretti stables, the cold morning, and the black horse under him.

His face had started to fade.

Twenty-eight days until Elena forgot Dante completely.