“You said I could leave.
You said I could make my own decisions.”
His expression hardened.
“Making your own decision doesn’t require walking toward a man who’s been surveilling your family.”
“I’m not asking to meet him alone.”
“You’re not meeting him at all.”
I almost smiled.
“There.
That’s the boss again.”
He stared at me.
Then I watched him make the harder choice.
He stepped back.
“What are you proposing?”
“You said he wants information.
If he came here, he expects a conversation with someone.
Maybe he thinks I’m ready to be frightened into helping him.”
“And?”
“Let him say it.”
Dante understood immediately.
“On record.”
“On record.”
He studied me for several seconds.
“You really were paying attention for three years.”
“Someone had to.”
The meeting never happened face to face.
Dante refused that much, and this time I agreed.
Instead, security kept the man downstairs while a call was routed to a private office line.
I sat beside Dante’s desk, the surveillance file closed in front of me.
When the call connected, neither of us spoke first.
A man’s voice came through the speaker.
Calm.
Confident.
“Ms.
Bennett.”
Every hair on my arms lifted.
He knew my name.
I looked at Dante.
His expression became stone.
“You wanted to speak with me,” I said.
“I thought you might want to make sure your sister keeps having ordinary afternoons.”
There it was.
No direct threat.
Nothing explicit.
Something worse because he believed implication was enough.
I tightened my fingers around the edge of the desk.
“What do you want?”
“A file.
Your employer knows which one.
You can access it.”
Dante’s eyes never left mine.
“And if I don’t?”
The man gave a soft laugh.
“Then life becomes inconvenient.
For everyone.”
That was his mistake.
He thought fear would make me obedient.
