“Should I Bury the Person Who Did This, or Are You Going to Stop Me?”: How Manhattan’s Most Feared Mafia Boss Stepped Up After a Bride’s Dress Was Slashed at the Altar.

For the first ten blocks, neither of us spoke. I sat huddled inside Dante’s oversized cashmere coat, my fingers tightly gripping the lapels as the adrenaline slowly drained from my body, leaving a hollow, trembling ache in my chest. Dante watched me quietly from the corner of the spacious leather seat, never crowding me, giving me the space to breathe. Finally, he reached into the compartment between us and pulled out a crystal tumbler filled with amber whiskey and a fresh bottle of sparkling water, placing them gently on the console. "Drink some water, Victoria. You're in shock," he said, his voice stripped of the terrifying edge he had used in the church. I took the glass of water with shaking hands, taking a small, hesitant sip that instantly cooled my burning throat. "Why did you do it, Mr. Moretti?" I whispered, my voice sounding small and fragile in the quiet cabin. "Why step in? You didn't owe me anything. In fact... most people in your world would have just watched for the entertainment."

Dante let out a low, humorless chuckle, resting his elbow on the armrest and studying my face with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Most people in my world are animals, Victoria. But I am not most people," he replied softly. "And as for why... let’s just say I’ve been watching you for the past six months." I blinked in utter astonishment, turning my head to look at him directly. "Watching me? Where?" A faint, ghost of a smile touched the corners of Dante’s lips. "At the art gallery where you curate. At the charity auctions where your former fiancé paraded you around like a decorative trophy while ignoring your existence. I watched a brilliant, fiercely talented woman spend two years pouring her heart into building a life with a parasite who didn't deserve a single second of your time." Dante leaned slightly closer, his dark eyes locking onto mine with hypnotic power. "I hate cruelty, Victoria. And I especially hate cowards who prey on women who have no one to protect them. But as it turns out... you weren't entirely alone anymore."

Before I could process the staggering implication of his words, the Maybach swept through a pair of wrought-iron security gates and entered a private subterranean parking garage beneath one of the most exclusive skyscrapers in lower Manhattan. The car glided to a halt, and before I could even reach for the handle, Dante’s bodyguard opened my door. Dante stepped out first, offering his hand to help me out of the low-slung vehicle. As I stood up, I looked around the private underground garage, realizing with a start where we were: the Moretti Tower, the impenetrable crown jewel of Manhattan’s financial and real estate empire. Dante kept his hand lightly resting on my arm as we walked toward a private elevator bank. "Let's get you out of that torn dress and into something warm," Dante said gently, pressing the private biometric scanner that would take us straight to the penthouse above the clouds.