Chapter 2 - The Secret Beneath the Grass**
The garden had gone dead silent. The two hundred guests—business partners, capos, politicians, and socialites—froze in mid-conversation, their wine glasses suspended in the air as they stared in horrified disbelief at the patriarch pinning one of his most trusted commanders to the dirt.
Dante didn't care about the audience. His gaze remained locked on Javier’s pale, trembling face, noticing how the other man’s eyes flicked frantically toward the base of the stone retaining wall.
Following Javier’s line of sight, Dante slowly released his grip on Javier’s collar, standing up to his full, imposing height. He took two steps backward, keeping his dark eyes fixed on Javier, and bent down to pick up the item that had slipped from Leo’s trembling hands during the scuffle.
It was an old, thick parchment document, folded neatly into quarters and sealed with a heavy, crimson wax stamp bearing the crest of the original Romano-Vance shipping trust—a seal that hadn’t been used in over twenty years.
Leo scrambled up from the grass, tears streaming down his flushed face, and ran straight into Dante’s side. Dante instinctively wrapped a protective arm around his son, pulling him close, his hand resting on the boy’s shoulder to steady him.
“Are you hurt, son?” Dante asked softly, his voice instantly softening as he looked down at Leo.
“I’m okay, Dad,” Leo sniffled, wiping his cheek with his sleeve. “I just... I found this metal box hidden behind the bricks in the old greenhouse when I was looking for my sketchbook. I wanted to give it to you because it had your name on it.”
Dante looked down at the parchment in his hand. The edges were slightly yellowed with age, but the ink was undeniably clear.
Javier scrambled to his feet, dusting off his grass-stained trousers, his face twisted in a desperate, frantic mask of false composure. He forced an uneasy, nervous laugh, trying to wave off the tension before the entire syndicate realized what was happening.
“Dante, please,” Javier stammered, stepping forward with his hands raised defensively. “It was just a misunderstanding! The boy was wandering into restricted zones, and I was merely... teaching him some discipline. Kids these days are too soft, you know that. There’s no need to ruin a business partnership over a little roughhousing.”
Dante didn't answer him immediately. He carefully unfolded the heavy parchment, his dark eyes scanning the handwritten lines of legal and financial ledger data written by his late father decades ago.
As his eyes hit the bottom paragraph—detailing a massive, multi-million-dollar asset diversion scheme and naming the specific offshore account numbers and corporate entities involved—Dante’s blood ran cold.
It wasn't just an old family document. It was the original, un-redacted proof of a systematic betrayal that had destroyed the Romano shipping empire’s founding partners twenty-five years ago.
And the name signed at the bottom as the primary beneficiary of the stolen funds wasn't an enemy family.
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It was Javier’s uncle.
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